All Along The Watchtower - Part 28.4
Title: All Along The Watchtower
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Pairing: Mer/Der
Rating: M
Summary: S6 continuation. Immediately post Sanctuary / Death and All His Friends.
Hi, all! It's nice to be back :) I did want to put in a standard disclaimer that this chapter isn't meant to be a political statement for or against gun control. My views are not necessarily what I believe the views of the characters would be.
I know I said that chapter 28 would be five sections. The jury is still out on whether I will write the fifth part, or proceed directly to chapter 29. Either way, I promise you won't miss anything in the world of MerDer. Anything that would have gone into 28.5 will likely show up as a flashback somewhere else, just without the boring extra stuff that makes a full-fledged chapter, like scene connections :) I may take a small break after posting 28.4 to work on my 2013 DC fundraiser fic, and/or another slightly porny short story that's been percolating in my head. Stay tuned for those, if my muse is playing nice, anyway! She is a fickle beast, so I never know how long she'll support me until she sticks out her tongue at me instead.
That being said, I really hope you enjoy this section!
All Along The Watchtower - Part 28.4
After
Abby sat in the kitchen at the breakfast nook in the dark, crouched over a small piece of pumpkin pie. She dipped the tines of her fork into the soft pie and pulled a bite away, but she didn't eat it. She sniffled, and the fork sat there, balanced loosely on her index finger. Her dirty blond hair hung in disheveled strings.
“Hey,” Derek said as he pulled a chair out and sat beside her.
Abby peered at him through her bangs. She didn't say hello. The wounded look in her eyes made his heart squeeze.
“Can we talk?” he said.
Abby shrugged.
He took a deep breath. “I know you feel like I betrayed you, Abby,” he said in what he hoped was a low, soothing murmur, “but there are times in life when you get so sick or scared or sad that the only thing on your mind is how to get those feelings to go away. You don't think about the people you'll be hurting by destroying yourself. You just... want it to stop hurting. I made the wrong choice by doing what I did, but I didn't make that choice with malice. I never intended to hurt anybody.”
She put her fork down and sighed. “But you did. Just like when you left.”
He froze. He hadn't realized she'd been upset about that, too. She'd never said anything. “I did,” he said, “and I'm very sorry.”
That got him eye contact. Ice blue stared back at him. He grinned at her, hoping to elicit some mirth.
Peekaboo!
The thought flitted through his head, unbidden. The echo of her giggle followed it, a crackle of energy on the edge of his mind. When she'd been very little, she'd loved that game, and he'd never tired of playing it. Kathy had made fun of him.
You'll break out in zits if you keep your hands on your face much longer, she'd said.
He'd shrugged. Practice makes perfect.
Practice for what? Is peekaboo a competitive sport?
He'd laughed and shook his head. For when I have my own kid.
“I'm sorry I yelled,” Abby said, loosing him from the memory.
“It's okay,” he said. “You're allowed to be mad at me.”
She shook her head. “I'm not mad.”
He looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Oh, you're not?”
“Okay, I'm mad,” she said, reneging. Her fingers clenched. “I'm mad. I just...”
He swallowed. He wanted more than anything for her to be okay with all of this. On the flip side, though, he knew it might take some time. As much as he wanted things to be okay before he left for Seattle, he knew it wasn't realistic for him to expect them to be.
“It's okay,” he said. “Take your time with it.”
She nodded.
“I want you to call me if you want to talk about this,” Derek said. “Anytime. Day or night.”
“Okay,” she said in a small voice. And then she looked at him. Took a deep, clipped breath. “I'm sorry things got that bad for you.”
“I know,” he said. “And I'm sorry I handled it wrong.”
She peered at him. “You're mostly better, now?” she said. “Like Aunt Amy?”
“Yes,” he said. “And I see a therapist.”
“Okay,” she said.
He pulled her into his arms. Her body hitched, and she melted against him. He let her cry, despite how much he hated to hear her so upset. Knowing he was the cause of her weeping made his heart squeeze. The sound reminded him of stubbed toes when she'd been little, and boys who'd dumped her when she'd been a bit older, and when she hadn't gotten into her first choice for college, just before he'd abandoned New York.
He closed his eyes. “I'll try to come back more often. Seems like I've been a very Not Awesome Uncle in more ways than one.” Now that he knew Meredith was okay with it, and now that his life wasn't disintegrating around him like a lit match, getting back to the East Coast would be a little easier. Well, when Baby got a little bigger, anyway.
“I've really missed you,” Abby said. “And this.”
He smiled. “I've been told I'm an excellent hugger by reputable sources.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured.
And he let the moment stretch.
Before
He didn't know where he was, but it smelled like his mother's favorite perfume, which kept him from tripping into abject panic upon waking. He wasn't sure what had pulled him up from dreaming. A shadow coalesced in the strip of light below the door, thickening the darkness in the room, and faint knock on the door breached the quiet.
“Sweetheart, it's Mom,” the shadow said in a muffled, familiar voice before he could get upset. “Are you awake?”
He tried to say something like, “Yeah; I'm up,” but with his face mashed into the pillow, he didn't think the words made it to his mother in any more than a garbled jumble of sound, because there was a long pause after that.
His mouth tasted gummy and parched, and his bladder was getting full, as though instead of a short nap like he'd intended, he'd been asleep for hours. His head didn't feel quite so much like melting taffy anymore. The rumble of voices and laughter rising softly through the floorboards didn't rub wrong against over-sensitized nerves. He felt more generically tired and less if-I-don't-take-a-break-soon-something-very-bad-will-happen.
“May I come in?” Mom said more softly, doubt pinching her tone.
“Mmm-hmm,” he said. Stupid. She wouldn't hear that. He rolled onto his back. He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he called more loudly.
The door creaked open slowly. A triangular patch of light spilled into the room. His mother, a dark shadow against the brightness, stepped into the room and paused, giving him a long time to get used to the idea that she was there.
“Lights,” she warned him.
“Okay,” he said. He put his palms against his face and closed his eyes as a shield.
She flipped the switch, and he let himself adjust as she approached. The mattress sank by his hip. He lowered his hands and squinted at her. She carried a plate of pie with a shiny fork, which didn't seem right.
Dessert was supposed to be at seven-thirty. He'd set his iPhone to wake him in forty-five minutes, and it was still sitting on the nightstand beside him. He'd tipped his mother's alarm clock face down before he'd crashed because the bright red glare of the giant numbers on its face had bugged him. His mother liked the other side of the bed, what he was used to calling Meredith's side, and he couldn't reach the clock to right it without rolling, which, with his mother sitting on the quilt, would be difficult anyway.
“What time is it?” he said.
“It's almost nine,” she said.
“Nine!” he said, sitting up. He'd been asleep for three hours. More than. Without thinking, he tried to stand, but his muscles were still in slumber, and his mother had him inadvertently pinned. His body got caught in the blankets, and all he really did was flop like a land-stranded fish.
“You don't have to get up if you're still tired,” his mother said.
He shook his head. He grabbed his phone. He'd set it for seven in the morning, not seven at night. Damn it all. “I left Meredith for three--”
“She's fine,” Mom said. “The baby is still kicking. Meredith has been giggling and happy all night. It's darling.”
He swallowed, blinking. “Oh,” he said. He looked at her, now that his eyes had fully adjusted.
“You missed dessert,” his mom said, offering the plate she carried. “I thought I'd bring you some, so you can enjoy it where it's quieter.”
“That's really...” He stared at the pie. It was pecan, which was his favorite. And somebody had put a whipped cream smiley face on the plate. Once he'd explicitly laid the ground rules for them, his family had been so welcoming and supportive. He hadn't expected anything like it. A lump formed in his throat. “That's... thanks. Thank you.”
“Are you feeling better, now?”
He nodded as he took the plate, still staring at the pie. “Rachel?” he said as he poked at the whipped cream smiley with the fork. Derek... Meredith had said. My breakfast is smiling at me. Little had she known it was a Shepherd thing more than a Derek thing.
Mom grinned. “Yes.”
“No snacks in the bedroom, I thought,” he said. “Gets crumbs in the sheets.”
“I think we can make an exception today,” she said.
He glanced at her. If it was nine, that meant things would be winding down. The kids would be getting cranky from staying up so late. He and Meredith still had to get back to the hotel. He felt like he could sleep another year or two, and still not be recharged. Also, he was running out of time to tell them about... everything. He'd waffled on it all afternoon. He needed to go back downstairs. Yet, he didn't quite feel ready to deal with so many people at once.
He took a bite of the pie and closed his eyes. Perfect. Sweet and crunchy. Kathy had learned how to make them from his grandmother, and had continued the tradition since his grandmother had died.
“You were muttering earlier,” his mother said.
“Was I?” Derek said. “I'm not sure what woke me up.”
Mom nodded. “I heard it from the hallway. You sounded upset. Is there anything you want to talk about?”
“Sometimes, I don't sleep very well,” he said. “I have nightmares.”
“About what happened to you?” Mom said.
He took another bite of pie and chewed pensively. “Yes,” he said around his mouthful.
Though, truth be told, it didn't feel right to call whatever this had been a nightmare about Gary Clark. Derek remembered those vividly, and Meredith told him he yelled a lot when he was stuck in them. Yelling wasn't muttering. Yelling would have brought more than just his mother to the door.
“I used to have them every night,” he said. “It's part of why I...” He looked at his lap. “I needed help to sleep.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she said.
He shook his head and sighed. “Not really. I don't have them very often anymore, and I don't think...” Maybe, this had been something slightly more mundane. He had one every once in a while where he failed a class in college because he'd forgotten he'd been enrolled in it, and by the time he'd remembered, it had been too late. “I don't remember having one today.”
“That's good,” she said.
He took another bite of pie. He heard Meredith's distinct, bubbly laughter in the distance, and a smile tugged at his lips. She said something he couldn't quite hear. Something about “kicked again!” like she was amazed that their baby could be so active, and a little thrill ran through him at the words.
Their baby. Alive. Well.
Meredith was happy.
A lot had gone right during this trip despite his initial nerves.
Derek put the plate with the pie on the nightstand, his father's old nightstand. There was a 5x7 picture of young Michael Shepherd sitting in a frame by the lamp that Derek hadn't paid much attention to when he'd been in the process of collapsing earlier. His father sat behind the wheel of a classic red Mustang, the same car Meredith had found him posing with when she'd gone through the pictures Derek kept in his office back at her mother's house.
You should ask your mom, Meredith had said when he hadn't been able to provide an explanation for the car. I bet she'd know.
He picked up the picture, careful to keep his fingers off the smudge-free glass. His dad donned a worn leather coat and beamed for the camera. The car sat on a packed-dirt road. There were trees in the background behind the car, oak and maple and ash. An azure streak of sky overhead and an endless roll of green below gelled the picture together. Maybe, it was a park, somewhere. Or an out-of-the-way drag strip.
“When was this?” Derek said. “Meredith wanted to know, and I couldn't tell her.”
His mother peered over his shoulder at the photo. “That photo was taken about a year before we had you.”
“Why don't I remember the car, then?” Derek said.
“Your dad had to sell it before you were born.”
“Why?” Derek said.
His mother shrugged. “We needed money. You remember how tight things were.”
Derek stared at the picture. It didn't take a genius to do the math. “He sold it because you got pregnant with me, you mean.”
His mother shrugged again. “Well, yes.” She grinned at him. “But I think he thought it was a pretty good trade.”
“He looks so happy,” Derek said.
Mom smiled. “He loved that car to pieces. He was very much a country joyrider when he was younger.” Her body shifted. She paused with her hands resting in his peripheral vision for a long moment. And then she wrapped her arms around him. The warmth of her body seeped through his shirt. She kissed his cheek. The photograph fell to his lap as he relaxed. “He loved you to pieces, too.”
“I've been missing him a lot, lately,” Derek said. He closed his eyes and soaked in her embrace.
“That's understandable,” she said.
He sighed. “I don't know how I'm ever going to live up to him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he was... He was just... Dad. And he always knew how to handle everything.”
His mother chuckled. “Oh, Derek, if you only knew how lost your father was most of the time...” Her gaze tilted upward as she thought for a moment. “He dislocated your shoulder, once.”
“What?” Derek said. “I don't remember that at all.”
“It was an accident, of course. You were almost five. You insisted your closet was the way to Narnia and wouldn't come out. He lost his cool and tried to drag you out by your arm.”
Derek frowned. “I really don't remember that.”
“Oh, yes,” Mom said with a smile. “Your dad was completely beside himself. I had to drive us to the ER because he was so upset that he'd hurt you, he couldn't see straight.”
“Seriously?” Derek said, trying to picture his father as anything other than all-knowing and perfect.
His mother nodded. “Seriously. And that's just one of the things I can think of off the top of my head.”
“He always seemed so perfect on my end.”
Mom laughed. “Derek, that's what parenting is.”
“What do you mean?” Derek said.
“You'll always worry that you could do better, no matter what. In the end, though, you do the best you can do, and nine times out of ten, that's enough.”
“What about the one time out of ten where it's not?”
“What did your father used to say when you made a mistake?”
Derek rolled his eyes. “It builds character.”
Mom shrugged. “Well, there you have it.”
Derek sighed. “But how am I supposed to be a good parent? How am I supposed to care for somebody else, when I can barely deal with my own problems, right now?”
“You've been taking good care of Meredith,” Mom said.
“Meredith's different,” he muttered.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Meredith is an adult, and she knows when I need a break. A baby isn't going to know when Dad needs quiet or space.”
“I think that's true of any baby and any parent. Look what happened with your father.”
“But--”
“And you seemed to be doing a fine job at dinner, putting things that were bothering you aside,” his mother said, steamrolling any objection he could muster. Her embrace tightened. “I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit.”
“You really think I'll do okay?” Derek said.
“I know you will,” Mom said. “I've always thought you'd make an excellent parent.”
Her certainty made her almost impossible not to believe, and he let that certainty sweep over him. Meredith kept telling him over and over that he could do this. Maybe, he really could. Maybe, he was being a worrywart.
“When I visited you in the hospital,” Mom continued, “you were acting like your life was a jigsaw puzzle that somebody had shuffled up and scattered across the room. But, now, it's like you have most of the picture back together. You just need a little help with some of the leftover pieces you haven't found the correct places for.”
And speaking of pieces he hadn't found places for...
He leaned against her shoulder with a sigh. “I think I'm going to tell them.”
“Tell what to whom?” Mom said.
“Tell my sisters about my drug problem. I've been waffling all day about it. Worrying about how they'll react is probably just as bad as them knowing is going to be. I just want to get it over with, so I can move on, and so I can keep getting better for the baby.”
“I think that's a good plan,” she said.
“How bad do you think this will be?” Derek said.
“I don't think it will be that bad,” Mom said.
“But what happened with Amy--”
“Was a one time out of ten sort of thing,” Mom said. “And I think they've all learned from it. At least, I hope so. You did, after all.”
“I did,” he said slowly, “but--”
“You did,” his mother said, cutting him off. “No buts.”
Derek sighed. He set the picture of his dad back on the nightstand and stood reluctantly. His body ached. His head throbbed. But he needed to do this. His mother picked up the plate with the leftover pie and walked behind him down the narrow hallway. He stopped in the bathroom, and his mother went on ahead.
The stairs creaked as he descended, but the sounds were lost in the comparative din of the living room. The room glowed in a bath of soft lamplight and holiday-scented candles. Everybody was sitting in the big circle of chairs, talking in hushed voices that, due to the number of people involved, collectively didn't seem that hushed.
The adults were having some sort of conversation about tomorrow's plans, except for Amelia, who sat conspicuously silent and stiff in the corner by the old grandfather clock. Meredith mentioned The Phantom of the Opera, and Rachel was talking about Black Friday sales. The noise slid up Derek's spine in an unpleasant tingle of discordance, but it was more than tolerable.
Sabrina and Chloe had sprawled on the floor to play Uno. Patrick and David were lying like pretzels by Sabrina's feet, toy trucks still clutched in their hands despite their slumber. Mia sat in John's lap, her face pressed into her father's shoulder. Cody and Morgan, the youngest kids, had conked out in Steve's and... Meredith's laps, respectively. Morgan had her head tipped back against Meredith's shoulder, and her mouth had fallen open, displaying a pearly line of little baby teeth. Her frilly dress covered most of Meredith's swollen belly, and her tiny patent-leather mary-janes dangled beyond Meredith's knees. One small hand rested over Meredith's navel. Derek's heart squeezed at the scene.
“The Museum of Sex is my first stop,” Mark announced.
Rachel giggled.
“There's actually a museum for that?” Meredith said.
Mark nodded. “Yes. And my curiosity is burning. I got a Groupon deal if anyone wants to join me.”
“You got a Groupon deal,” Meredith said flatly.
“Yes,” Mark said.
“For a sex museum,” she said.
“Yep,” Mark said.
“I have to see it,” Meredith said.
“The Groupon or the museum?” he said.
Meredith giggled. “The museum. We don't have plans tomorrow morning, anyway.”
“I don't know,” Mark said. “Is Derek coming?”
Rachel rolled her eyes and threw a balled up napkin at him, which he deftly dodged. “You're as bad as Derek with the innuendo, sometimes,” she said.
“I might be sleeping,” Derek said from the stairwell. “But I'll come if I'm awake.”
Meredith spit out her drink in a curtailed, choking laugh, which miraculously didn't disturb her dozing charge. Blush crept across her cheeks, but she recovered quickly. Her eyes sparkled in the light as she beamed at him. His mother slipped back into the room and sat down next to Abby as he smiled tiredly at his wife.
Hi, she mouthed, and he winked back at her.
Kathy grinned at him. “Hey, sleepyhead,” his oldest sister said. “How are you feeling?”
Derek pulled his fingers through his hair. “Much better, thanks.”
“You were out forever. Are you going to be able to sleep tonight?” Rachel said with a frown.
“Yeah,” he said. “I'm sorry I wasn't here, much.” Stress, desire, and exertion had amalgamated, creating lightning rods for pain in all of his joints and a lot of his muscles. Stress over subjecting himself to fear. Desire to reduce the stress with Percocet. Exertion to keep the desire from snowballing. “I didn't intend to sleep that long. I'm really worn out.”
Kathy shrugged. “You're here. That's what matters.”
“Yeah,” Rachel added, “we're just thrilled you could make it.”
“Why does post-traumatic stress make you tired?” Chloe asked, looking up from her hand of cards. Sabrina craned her neck to look at him, too.
“Well,” Derek said. He blinked. They actually looked interested, particularly Chloe. He knew his sisters must have explained things briefly to the kids who were old enough to understand, but he wasn't sure how much deeper than don't-yell-near-your-uncle they'd gone. “It's not really that... but certain things like loud noises make me very anxious. It's just like being stressed out for a test at school or something. It makes me tired faster.”
“Oh,” Chloe said. “That makes sense.”
Sabrina frowned. “But why don't you like loud noises anymore?”
“I was shot,” Derek said. He knew his sisters had told them that, at least. “Guns are really loud.”
Sabrina shook her head. “Right. Duh. Sorry.”
Derek shrugged. “No reason to be sorry.”
“That really sucks,” Sabrina said. “People shouldn't have guns.”
“No, they shouldn't,” Derek said. He moved out of the stairwell and stepped over the minefield of bodies on the rug.
Mark, who seemed to have been fulfilling his role has a backup human shield in Derek's absence, and sat dutifully next to Meredith, said, “Hey, man.” He stood to give Derek the chair closest to his wife, and moved across the room to the empty piano bench. Derek took the seat gingerly, trying to avoid too much pain. He leaned across to kiss Meredith's ear, careful not to disturb his sleeping niece.
“Hey,” he said. “How are you doing?”
“I have a loaner baby,” Meredith said, tone proud, and he chuckled.
“I can see that,” he said.
“She wanted to feel the baby kick,” Meredith said. “I think she got bored when she couldn't.”
“She's up way past her bed time,” Kathy said. “That's all.”
“Yeah,” John said. He glanced at his watch. “We should really think about calling it a night. The kids are dropping like flies.”
“Wait,” Derek said before John could stand up.
John cocked his head to the side. “Hmm?”
Derek glanced at his mother, who nodded. Then he looked at Meredith, met her unblinking eyes. She knew what he meant without explanation.
You're sure? she said with her gaze.
I need to, he thought back at her.
She nodded as well. A thousand percent. I'm here.
She stretched out her fingers and touched his. She clasped his hand, strongly enough that his joints mashed together and the lines of his palm became the rise and fall of waves. The warmth of her skin warmed him. For a moment, he got lost in her gaze.
His commitment-phobic one-night stand, one he'd initiated simply to prove to himself that he wasn't as broken as his marriage to Addison had become, had turned into a pursuit to prove he could still pursue, had turned into a date to prove he could still date, had turned into another date because he liked her, had turned into countless mornings waking up in her bed because he really liked her, had turned into what he had finally realized was love. Somewhere between if-you-know-me-you'll-love-me in his sexy red shirt, and the moment Addison had stuck out her hand and haughtily introduced herself to Meredith, he'd fallen for her. Meredith Grey. The love of his life. His light in the dark. His very best friend. His soul mate.
He could recite the entire thing like a baseball play in slow motion, but he still couldn't explain the why or the how of it. He could only say that life, sometimes, had magic in it. Magic, and miracles, and the metaphysical.
His lips curled into a wide, goofy smile, unbidden, despite his nerves, despite everything.
“What?” she said. Morgan shifted sleepily in her arms.
“I just realized something,” he said. “That's all.”
Meredith's eyes narrowed. “What?” she said again.
He shrugged. “I feel... lucky.”
A simple statement, really, but her eyes widened like he'd told her he'd be back in the operating room tomorrow, removing somebody's malignant glioblastoma, or performing the resection of a spinal tumor, and it was his turn to cock his head and say, “What?”
“Mr. Optimism. He keeps popping up at the most unexpected moments, lately,” she replied, and a brilliant smile stretched across her face. “I like it a lot.”
He blinked, surprised by her assessment. He hadn't even noticed the onset. And, now that he thought about it, he realized Mr. Clark had been silent all afternoon. Ever since Derek had been able to lay some firm ground rules, rules they'd heard straight form his own lips, rather than rules they'd heard through the familial grapevine. Ever since he'd stood his ground despite every fiber in his body screaming at him to run away instead.
Fight for it, said his mental Meredith. Fight for what you need.
Real Meredith nodded, too, as though she'd heard her counterpart speak.
“There's something I want to talk to you guys about,” Derek said, turning back to his family.
“What is it?” Steve said.
“Is something wrong?” Rachel said.
“Let's put the kids in the library,” Mom said before he could say anything, and she stood. “Chloe, would you help me, dear?”
“Oh, lord,” Kathy said, glancing at their mother and then back to him. “What is it?”
Derek frowned, watching his mother move across the floor to collect Morgan from Meredith. Meredith shook her arms like they'd fallen asleep. Steve stood with Cody draped in his arms, and Chloe began to shepherd Patrick, David, and Mia, who were all varying degrees of asleep on their feet, out of the room, amidst a chorus of grumbles and whining.
“Sorry,” Derek said. “I didn't...” Think. At all.
Stress tightened in his chest as Steve and his mother reappeared. Chloe came back into the room and sat down in a heap next to Sabrina, who'd never left. He'd prepared himself, sort of, to talk with his sisters. With his brothers-in-law. Mr. Optimism or not, it was another thing entirely to see three of his nieces still sitting there. And, actually, he wasn't sure if Kathy would even want them there. His family had been circumspect with the children regarding Amelia's issues. Abby had found out by accident when she'd been a senior in high school, and that had been a bit of a mess because she hadn't been prepared for it whatsoever.
His gaze flicked to Amelia, who'd hunkered in her chair a bit like a turtle preparing for harassment by hiding in its shell. She shook her head at him vehemently. No, said her gaze. Don't even try it if you want this to go remotely well.
He tensed at that revelation. He turned back to the rest of the room. “I don't...” He cleared his throat and caught Kathy's stare directly. “I don't know if you want Sab and Chloe here for this. You might want to listen first and decide whether to tell them later.”
Sabrina pouted. “But I'm fifteen. I'm an adult!”
“It's probably just boring grownup stuff, anyway,” Chloe said, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah,” Derek said. He couldn't bring himself to laugh about it. “It's very boring.”
Kathy looked at her daughters sternly. “Why don't you two stay in the library for a bit?” she said. Not exactly as a request. Sabrina and Chloe threw their Uno cards on the ground and struggled to their feet. Chloe began to move away, but Sabrina folded her arms over her chest and stood her ground defiantly.
“Why can't we stay, Uncle Derek?” Sabrina said, peering at him with dark, angry eyes. Chloe, on the other hand, slunk away with an expression that said, Hey, don't drag me into this rebellion.
He shivered at the surge of nervousness that flooded him. Even though this was his niece. Even though she was smaller than Meredith. Despite all that, this was a confrontation, and a noisy one at that.
“Because I'm not sure it's age appropriate for you, and I'm not your mom or dad, so I don't decide whether you stay or not,” Derek said.
“But I'm mature!” she protested, stomping her foot.
Kathy let loose a sardonic laugh as she stood and pointed to the hallway. “Sabrina, out.”
“If you want us to think you're mature, this is not the way to do it,” John said, joining his wife.
Derek stood and forced himself to straighten his shoulders. “You heard your parents.” He pointed in the same direction Kathy had, setting his lips in a grim line. “Out.”
Sabrina gave him and Kathy and John a glare and stomped off, which made the chandelier in the dining room shake, and sort of made him feel like a jerk. He wasn't used to any of his nieces being pissed at him. He was supposed to be the Awesome Uncle, though he supposed he preferred Uncle Jerkface over Uncle Addict.
Kathy looked back at Derek. “Sorry, Der,” she said. “She's discovered she has hormones since you last saw her. It's not you.” And then her eyebrows rose in askance. “Abby?”
Derek swallowed. He glanced at Abby. The amazing young lady who idolized him. Abby looked back at him, confusion written all over her face. He wanted to say no, that she was too young, but she was in college. She could vote. She was an adult and could make her own choices, and she knew about Amelia already, so, there was little point in keeping her away from this revelation. “It's um... It's fine,” he said. Not. Not fine. He swallowed.
Meredith stroked his fingers with her thumb, remind him she was there. You'll always have me, no matter what your crazy family does, she seemed to be saying, though she didn't speak. He gave her a wavering smile despite his nerves.
Rachel laughed nervously. “Okay, what is it?”
His lungs didn't seem to want to fill. He shifted nervously from foot to foot. “I'm sorry,” he said breathily. “I need...”
“Take your time,” Kathy said, her voice low and soothing.
Say it, he thought. Just say it. Get it done. This was what he'd wanted, right? To move on? Fight for what you need. He took a deep breath. He had Meredith with him. Mark and Amelia and his Mom. There was almost an equal number of sympathetic people in this room as there were unknowns, now. Abby, Rachel, Kathy, Steve, and John. Four on five. Five on five if he counted himself. When he thought of the situation in those terms, like it was a checker board with red pieces and black pieces, a fair fight, things didn't seem as intimidating.
“I'm an addict,” Derek said quietly.
“To what?” Rachel said, laughing. “Lobbing bad innuendo at unsuspecting victims?”
“No, I mean I'm really an addict,” Derek said, barely able to find his voice. “After I was shot, I got addicted to my painkillers.”
“What do you mean?” Rachel said.
Derek took a deep breath, urging himself not to snap at her. This was kind of big. Of course, she wouldn't quite get it at first. “I mean that I've been sick. And Percocet made me feel better. And not a day goes by that I don't regret the choice I made to keep taking it, knowing that, but I made it. I'm an addict.”
Silence stretched. Kathy didn't look that shocked, but everybody else sure did. Steve's mouth had fallen open, and John was blinking like an idiot. Abby looked like she was trying not to cry. He hated to see her cry. He hated seeing any woman cry, but his niece, often still a child in his mind, wielded special heart-piercing swords with her tears. And then there was Rachel. Blush crept across her face, but Derek didn't think it was from embarrassment. Anger, maybe. Or... He didn't know. He tried to remind himself this was necessary. That it would be bad before it could be good. Like a wound that needed to be opened and cleaned before it could heal properly. But that didn't make it feel any less bad in the moment.
“But...” Abby said, the first to break the mind-wracking silence. She took a deep breath. Her voice was low and her syllables were stretched. His chest tightened. “You're okay, though, right?” she said.
“I'm better than I have been in a long time,” he replied.
“You're not going to jail?”
The question surprised him enough that a nervous, humorless laugh popped loose from his body. “No. No, I'm not going to jail.”
“Okay,” Abby said, nodding. She bit her lip like she didn't know what to say. “That's good. I knew someone at school who...” She swallowed, not finishing her sentence, but he could fill in the blanks.
And then her eyes darkened. She wiped her face. “How could you?” she said with belligerence that made him flinch, in part because it scared him a little, and in part because he didn't think he'd ever heard her speak in that tone of voice. The only thing he had shelved in old memories that compared was when he'd heard her fight with Kathy and John about getting a learner's permit. In that case, though, her tone had been more of a two-dimensional, pout-y, “Why are you being so unfair to me!” rather than a three-dimensional wail of betrayal, “Et tu, Brute?”
“I'm sor--” he said.
“Don't bother,” Abby replied icily.
Derek looked at the floor as his eldest niece stalked out of the room and disappeared into the kitchen. A chilly puff of air displaced by her passing hit him in the face in the midst of Kathy's repeated, “Abby? Abby!” that did no good for the situation whatsoever. Kathy didn't seem to have any idea whether to chase her daughter or to stay.
“She shouldn't have done that,” Kathy said.
“It's okay,” he added lamely, almost unable to find his voice. “It's... what I expected.”
“She's just being a stupid kid,” Mark said, a small, soothing voice of reason. “Don't take it personal, man.”
Even with the help, Derek didn't know what else to say.
For a long moment, it seemed like nobody knew what else there was to say, and he didn't miss the fact that, other than Abby, none of the “hostile” checker pieces had responded specifically to what he'd said. His eyes prickled, and his lower-lip quivered, and a big, thick lump expanded in his throat, but he didn't let any of that own him. Not right now. Not when, if he lost it, everything would get even worse. He wiped his eyes and didn't speak. He looked at Meredith for... he didn't know what. Help. Reassurance. Something. Anything.
Her eyes were filmy with unshed tears. I love you, she mouthed, and his knuckles smooshed together as she tightened her grip again.
He didn't know what else to say. What else could he say?
“So, Mom knew, and...” Rachel began slowly, her eyes and nose had scrunched in her I'm-doing-math-and-I-hate-it face. Her voice was thick and lost as she struggled through her thoughts. “Why didn't you say anything to us, Derek?”
Because he'd screwed up was his instinctive response, but his throat wouldn't work.
Meredith's hip pressed against him, reassuring him, and her fingers clenched around him, almost to the point of real pain, like she was trying to reassure herself. A wild thought flew into his head. Him telling her to push. Her reminding him she was allowed to break his hand because he'd said she could for this. And then she'd squeeze his hand a bit like that.
“He just did tell you,” Meredith said, pulling him back into the room from his musing, her tone borderline I'm-good-with-a-scalpel-don't-mess-with-me, her posture bristling. “Right now. Didn't you hear him?”
Rachel looked at Meredith. Goggled for a moment. “I mean... I meant before!”
Kathy nodded. “We could have helped you.”
“Are you guys serious?” Amelia said as she, too, rose to her feet. She rolled her eyes, and in an unexpected hailstorm of support, said, “He didn't tell you two because you're a pair of judgmental, hypocritical bitches. And if Nancy had been here, too, I doubt he'd have opened his mouth at all.”
His mother shook her head. “Amelia, language!”
“Hold on, now--” John began.
“She knew, too?” Rachel said.
“What?” Amelia said huffily, “It's true. At least, they're half civil without their bitch ringleader.”
“Language!” Mom repeated more sharply.
“Ladies,” Steve said, “Let's all calm--”
“I will not be calm!” Rachel snapped. “Amelia, what are you even talking about?”
Derek wasn't sure if Amelia supporting him had helped or hurt things.
Amelia rolled her eyes again. “Only the fact that you ostracized me for years.”
“That was a long time ago,” Kathy said.
“It wasn't a long time ago,” Amelia said. “I still don't feel comfortable at family bonanzas like this. And the only one of you who ever even apologized to me, though it took him more than a decade to get around to it, and also a painful trip to the land of 'me, too', was Derek.”
Kathy and Rachel sat in stunned silence, and the moment stretched, and stretched.
“Amy,” Kathy began slowly, “that was a long time ago.”
Rachel nodded. “I thought it was done.”
“It's not done,” Amelia said. “It's never done. I'm an addict. Derek's an addict. Addiction is a problem for life. We can be almost okay, but we can never be totally better, and this family needs to take its head out of its ass about it. He didn't tell you because he was terrified of you, and I honestly can't blame him, whether he's sick or not.”
“Thanks, Amy,” Derek snapped, finding his voice. “Thanks for your help.” He put the word help in air quotes. “This is really going well.”
At least Amelia had the decency to look like she felt a little guilty about throwing her Molotov cocktail into the lit cigarette party at the gas station. Silenced stretched to the point of being unbearable. Nobody spoke. Everybody stared. Derek wanted to crawl back to his mother's queen-sized bed, pull the covers over his head, and curl up in a ball.
“How about we all sit down,” Meredith said calmly. “And then, maybe, we can talk about this like adults.”
“Yes,” Mom said, “That's a good idea. Let's all take a timeout.”
“No,” Kathy said. “Wait.” When Kathy stood, Derek squeezed his eyes shut, prepared for the worst. “Amelia's right.” Derek's eyes snapped open in time to see Kathy walk over to Amy and hold out her hand. Amy snorted and didn't take it. “I'm sorry,” Kathy pressed. “We're both sorry,” she added, gesturing at Rachel, “and we should have said something instead of assuming things were okay. We created a pretty hostile environment.” Kathy sighed as if she were disappointed. “And then we unintentionally tried to let time sweep it under the rug to avoid a difficult conversation.” She turned to Derek. “I never wanted you to feel like you couldn't tell us something. I'm sorry.”
Rachel nodded. “Amy, I had no idea you felt that way. I see too many ODs wind up on my table. I would never be as stupid, now, as I was when we were younger, now that I've seen so much. I thought it was... Well, I thought it was obvious.”
“Obvious,” Amelia scoffed. “Obvious? Obvious is I am so sorry, Amelia, for treating you like dirt.”
Rachel flinched.
Kathy straightened, as though forcing herself not to engage in a petty fight. “I want to help,” she said coolly.
“We both do!” Rachel said with a thick voice. “Both of you.”
“Both of you,” Kathy agreed. “How can we help?”
Derek kneaded his jeans with nervous hands. “It took me three months to admit I even needed help.”
“So, you and Meredith did this all by yourselves?” Kathy said incredulously.
Meredith bit her lip. “We had Mark,” she said roughly. “Mark was there.”
The tips of Mark's ears turned pink. He shrugged. “I didn't do much.”
“Don't say that,” Meredith said. “You did a lot.”
“You did,” Derek said, tension making his throat hurt. “You did so much, Mark. Thank you.”
The pink on Mark's ears spread to his cheeks. “It really wasn't a big deal.”
“When did you tell Mom?” Kathy said.
“When I visited in October,” Mom said.
“And Amy?” Rachel said.
“I had a really bad day in September,” Derek said.
“And Mark?” Rachel said.
Derek glanced curiously at Mark. Mark had... always known.
“I told him in August,” Meredith said. “I didn't know what to do when I... figured it out.”
Derek squeezed her shoulder in support.
When nobody spoke, he felt a stupid, nerve-wracking need to fill the silence.
“I was selfish,” Derek said. “Selfish, and stupid, and I let this all get heaped on Meredith and Mark, particularly Meredith. And I'm sorry for that every day. I'm sorry for--”
“Shut up, you big, dumb idiot,” Rachel snapped. She blinked tears, and her voice cracked. “And I mean that in the nicest possible way.” She waved her hand at Amelia. “C'mere, squirt.”
Amelia rolled her eyes and stood. “What?”
“You, too, Derek,” Rachel said.
“What?” Derek said dumbly.
“Just come here,” Rachel said, pointing at the floor in front of her feet for emphasis.
The four of them converged at the center of the room. Rachel pushed closer. “Is this okay?” she said to him, raising her arms to show clear intent.
Derek swallowed. “What? Yes...”
And all at once, he and Amelia were at the center of a bear hug so tight it was hard to breathe, not that it mattered, because his breath froze in his chest.
“I thought you would hate me, now,” Derek said thickly, still not ready to believe what had just happened.
“We could never hate you,” Kathy said against his ear. “And we never hated Amy. You never hated Amy. We were all just...”
“Really, really stupid,” Rachel said. “All of us.”
His muscles relaxed. Finally. His jaw unclenched. Tension bled out of him as though his body were a sieve, and then he was just tired. Tired. Relieved. Derek's throat tightened. The room blurred. “I'm really sorr--”
“Didn't I say shut up?” Rachel said playfully.
“Let's just let it go,” Kathy said. “We're all here, now.”
Amelia snorted. “That's easy for you to say,” she said, muffled by the sibling dog pile.
Kathy sighed. “Look, we clearly all have unresolved issues. But we don't need to fix them all right now. One at a time, okay?”
“Fine,” Amelia grumbled.
“What just happened?” Steve said.
“I think they all agreed on something,” John added.
“Is that not normal?” Meredith said.
“No,” Derek said in choked up unison with his sisters. Beyond Kathy's shoulder, he saw his mother smiling.
After
“Derek,” said a soft voice. Meredith. “Derek...”
He opened his eyes to a strange blindness. Nothing but brown. A moment later, he realized this was the breakfast nook table, and he'd slumped to the point of collapse against it. Abby wasn't in his arms anymore. That's right. She'd left, and he'd put his head down for a moment... He rubbed his eyes, righted himself, and stared fuzzily up at Meredith.
“What time is it?” he said. A murmur of voices flitted through the air from the living room. It couldn't be too much later.
“Ten,” Meredith said. “Our taxi is here.”
“Oh, okay,” he said, still not quite functional. He stumbled to his feet. “Should say g'night.”
Meredith flashed a soft smile at him. “The adults are in the living room. The kids are down.” She wrapped her arms around him and stopped him from moving forward. “Hey.”
He looked at her.
“You made it,” she said.
A sleepy smile stretched across his face. “I did.”
She stared at him through her eyelashes. She sighed with content. “I think I like your family, by the way. They don't seem that mean, or judge-y, or freaky anymore.”
“I guess they've grown out of it for the most part,” Derek said.
She nodded. “People grow.” You have. I have.
Her unspoken words resonated with him. “I'm glad you're here,” he said.
“Me, too,” she said. Her lip twitched. She shifted on her feet. Put her hand on her belly. “I swear, this kid is running laps.”
He put a hand against her navel. The warmth of her skin through her shirt soothed him. “I can't wait until I can feel it, too,” he said.
“You will soon,” she said. She leaned onto her tiptoes and kissed him. “Let's go say goodbye,” she murmured against his lips.
He breathed in the soft scent of her lotion. Her hair. “Okay,” he said. And then he let her lead him home.
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Pairing: Mer/Der
Rating: M
Summary: S6 continuation. Immediately post Sanctuary / Death and All His Friends.
Hi, all! It's nice to be back :) I did want to put in a standard disclaimer that this chapter isn't meant to be a political statement for or against gun control. My views are not necessarily what I believe the views of the characters would be.
I know I said that chapter 28 would be five sections. The jury is still out on whether I will write the fifth part, or proceed directly to chapter 29. Either way, I promise you won't miss anything in the world of MerDer. Anything that would have gone into 28.5 will likely show up as a flashback somewhere else, just without the boring extra stuff that makes a full-fledged chapter, like scene connections :) I may take a small break after posting 28.4 to work on my 2013 DC fundraiser fic, and/or another slightly porny short story that's been percolating in my head. Stay tuned for those, if my muse is playing nice, anyway! She is a fickle beast, so I never know how long she'll support me until she sticks out her tongue at me instead.
That being said, I really hope you enjoy this section!
All Along The Watchtower - Part 28.4
After
Abby sat in the kitchen at the breakfast nook in the dark, crouched over a small piece of pumpkin pie. She dipped the tines of her fork into the soft pie and pulled a bite away, but she didn't eat it. She sniffled, and the fork sat there, balanced loosely on her index finger. Her dirty blond hair hung in disheveled strings.
“Hey,” Derek said as he pulled a chair out and sat beside her.
Abby peered at him through her bangs. She didn't say hello. The wounded look in her eyes made his heart squeeze.
“Can we talk?” he said.
Abby shrugged.
He took a deep breath. “I know you feel like I betrayed you, Abby,” he said in what he hoped was a low, soothing murmur, “but there are times in life when you get so sick or scared or sad that the only thing on your mind is how to get those feelings to go away. You don't think about the people you'll be hurting by destroying yourself. You just... want it to stop hurting. I made the wrong choice by doing what I did, but I didn't make that choice with malice. I never intended to hurt anybody.”
She put her fork down and sighed. “But you did. Just like when you left.”
He froze. He hadn't realized she'd been upset about that, too. She'd never said anything. “I did,” he said, “and I'm very sorry.”
That got him eye contact. Ice blue stared back at him. He grinned at her, hoping to elicit some mirth.
Peekaboo!
The thought flitted through his head, unbidden. The echo of her giggle followed it, a crackle of energy on the edge of his mind. When she'd been very little, she'd loved that game, and he'd never tired of playing it. Kathy had made fun of him.
You'll break out in zits if you keep your hands on your face much longer, she'd said.
He'd shrugged. Practice makes perfect.
Practice for what? Is peekaboo a competitive sport?
He'd laughed and shook his head. For when I have my own kid.
“I'm sorry I yelled,” Abby said, loosing him from the memory.
“It's okay,” he said. “You're allowed to be mad at me.”
She shook her head. “I'm not mad.”
He looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Oh, you're not?”
“Okay, I'm mad,” she said, reneging. Her fingers clenched. “I'm mad. I just...”
He swallowed. He wanted more than anything for her to be okay with all of this. On the flip side, though, he knew it might take some time. As much as he wanted things to be okay before he left for Seattle, he knew it wasn't realistic for him to expect them to be.
“It's okay,” he said. “Take your time with it.”
She nodded.
“I want you to call me if you want to talk about this,” Derek said. “Anytime. Day or night.”
“Okay,” she said in a small voice. And then she looked at him. Took a deep, clipped breath. “I'm sorry things got that bad for you.”
“I know,” he said. “And I'm sorry I handled it wrong.”
She peered at him. “You're mostly better, now?” she said. “Like Aunt Amy?”
“Yes,” he said. “And I see a therapist.”
“Okay,” she said.
He pulled her into his arms. Her body hitched, and she melted against him. He let her cry, despite how much he hated to hear her so upset. Knowing he was the cause of her weeping made his heart squeeze. The sound reminded him of stubbed toes when she'd been little, and boys who'd dumped her when she'd been a bit older, and when she hadn't gotten into her first choice for college, just before he'd abandoned New York.
He closed his eyes. “I'll try to come back more often. Seems like I've been a very Not Awesome Uncle in more ways than one.” Now that he knew Meredith was okay with it, and now that his life wasn't disintegrating around him like a lit match, getting back to the East Coast would be a little easier. Well, when Baby got a little bigger, anyway.
“I've really missed you,” Abby said. “And this.”
He smiled. “I've been told I'm an excellent hugger by reputable sources.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured.
And he let the moment stretch.
Before
He didn't know where he was, but it smelled like his mother's favorite perfume, which kept him from tripping into abject panic upon waking. He wasn't sure what had pulled him up from dreaming. A shadow coalesced in the strip of light below the door, thickening the darkness in the room, and faint knock on the door breached the quiet.
“Sweetheart, it's Mom,” the shadow said in a muffled, familiar voice before he could get upset. “Are you awake?”
He tried to say something like, “Yeah; I'm up,” but with his face mashed into the pillow, he didn't think the words made it to his mother in any more than a garbled jumble of sound, because there was a long pause after that.
His mouth tasted gummy and parched, and his bladder was getting full, as though instead of a short nap like he'd intended, he'd been asleep for hours. His head didn't feel quite so much like melting taffy anymore. The rumble of voices and laughter rising softly through the floorboards didn't rub wrong against over-sensitized nerves. He felt more generically tired and less if-I-don't-take-a-break-soon-something-very-bad-will-happen.
“May I come in?” Mom said more softly, doubt pinching her tone.
“Mmm-hmm,” he said. Stupid. She wouldn't hear that. He rolled onto his back. He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he called more loudly.
The door creaked open slowly. A triangular patch of light spilled into the room. His mother, a dark shadow against the brightness, stepped into the room and paused, giving him a long time to get used to the idea that she was there.
“Lights,” she warned him.
“Okay,” he said. He put his palms against his face and closed his eyes as a shield.
She flipped the switch, and he let himself adjust as she approached. The mattress sank by his hip. He lowered his hands and squinted at her. She carried a plate of pie with a shiny fork, which didn't seem right.
Dessert was supposed to be at seven-thirty. He'd set his iPhone to wake him in forty-five minutes, and it was still sitting on the nightstand beside him. He'd tipped his mother's alarm clock face down before he'd crashed because the bright red glare of the giant numbers on its face had bugged him. His mother liked the other side of the bed, what he was used to calling Meredith's side, and he couldn't reach the clock to right it without rolling, which, with his mother sitting on the quilt, would be difficult anyway.
“What time is it?” he said.
“It's almost nine,” she said.
“Nine!” he said, sitting up. He'd been asleep for three hours. More than. Without thinking, he tried to stand, but his muscles were still in slumber, and his mother had him inadvertently pinned. His body got caught in the blankets, and all he really did was flop like a land-stranded fish.
“You don't have to get up if you're still tired,” his mother said.
He shook his head. He grabbed his phone. He'd set it for seven in the morning, not seven at night. Damn it all. “I left Meredith for three--”
“She's fine,” Mom said. “The baby is still kicking. Meredith has been giggling and happy all night. It's darling.”
He swallowed, blinking. “Oh,” he said. He looked at her, now that his eyes had fully adjusted.
“You missed dessert,” his mom said, offering the plate she carried. “I thought I'd bring you some, so you can enjoy it where it's quieter.”
“That's really...” He stared at the pie. It was pecan, which was his favorite. And somebody had put a whipped cream smiley face on the plate. Once he'd explicitly laid the ground rules for them, his family had been so welcoming and supportive. He hadn't expected anything like it. A lump formed in his throat. “That's... thanks. Thank you.”
“Are you feeling better, now?”
He nodded as he took the plate, still staring at the pie. “Rachel?” he said as he poked at the whipped cream smiley with the fork. Derek... Meredith had said. My breakfast is smiling at me. Little had she known it was a Shepherd thing more than a Derek thing.
Mom grinned. “Yes.”
“No snacks in the bedroom, I thought,” he said. “Gets crumbs in the sheets.”
“I think we can make an exception today,” she said.
He glanced at her. If it was nine, that meant things would be winding down. The kids would be getting cranky from staying up so late. He and Meredith still had to get back to the hotel. He felt like he could sleep another year or two, and still not be recharged. Also, he was running out of time to tell them about... everything. He'd waffled on it all afternoon. He needed to go back downstairs. Yet, he didn't quite feel ready to deal with so many people at once.
He took a bite of the pie and closed his eyes. Perfect. Sweet and crunchy. Kathy had learned how to make them from his grandmother, and had continued the tradition since his grandmother had died.
“You were muttering earlier,” his mother said.
“Was I?” Derek said. “I'm not sure what woke me up.”
Mom nodded. “I heard it from the hallway. You sounded upset. Is there anything you want to talk about?”
“Sometimes, I don't sleep very well,” he said. “I have nightmares.”
“About what happened to you?” Mom said.
He took another bite of pie and chewed pensively. “Yes,” he said around his mouthful.
Though, truth be told, it didn't feel right to call whatever this had been a nightmare about Gary Clark. Derek remembered those vividly, and Meredith told him he yelled a lot when he was stuck in them. Yelling wasn't muttering. Yelling would have brought more than just his mother to the door.
“I used to have them every night,” he said. “It's part of why I...” He looked at his lap. “I needed help to sleep.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she said.
He shook his head and sighed. “Not really. I don't have them very often anymore, and I don't think...” Maybe, this had been something slightly more mundane. He had one every once in a while where he failed a class in college because he'd forgotten he'd been enrolled in it, and by the time he'd remembered, it had been too late. “I don't remember having one today.”
“That's good,” she said.
He took another bite of pie. He heard Meredith's distinct, bubbly laughter in the distance, and a smile tugged at his lips. She said something he couldn't quite hear. Something about “kicked again!” like she was amazed that their baby could be so active, and a little thrill ran through him at the words.
Their baby. Alive. Well.
Meredith was happy.
A lot had gone right during this trip despite his initial nerves.
Derek put the plate with the pie on the nightstand, his father's old nightstand. There was a 5x7 picture of young Michael Shepherd sitting in a frame by the lamp that Derek hadn't paid much attention to when he'd been in the process of collapsing earlier. His father sat behind the wheel of a classic red Mustang, the same car Meredith had found him posing with when she'd gone through the pictures Derek kept in his office back at her mother's house.
You should ask your mom, Meredith had said when he hadn't been able to provide an explanation for the car. I bet she'd know.
He picked up the picture, careful to keep his fingers off the smudge-free glass. His dad donned a worn leather coat and beamed for the camera. The car sat on a packed-dirt road. There were trees in the background behind the car, oak and maple and ash. An azure streak of sky overhead and an endless roll of green below gelled the picture together. Maybe, it was a park, somewhere. Or an out-of-the-way drag strip.
“When was this?” Derek said. “Meredith wanted to know, and I couldn't tell her.”
His mother peered over his shoulder at the photo. “That photo was taken about a year before we had you.”
“Why don't I remember the car, then?” Derek said.
“Your dad had to sell it before you were born.”
“Why?” Derek said.
His mother shrugged. “We needed money. You remember how tight things were.”
Derek stared at the picture. It didn't take a genius to do the math. “He sold it because you got pregnant with me, you mean.”
His mother shrugged again. “Well, yes.” She grinned at him. “But I think he thought it was a pretty good trade.”
“He looks so happy,” Derek said.
Mom smiled. “He loved that car to pieces. He was very much a country joyrider when he was younger.” Her body shifted. She paused with her hands resting in his peripheral vision for a long moment. And then she wrapped her arms around him. The warmth of her body seeped through his shirt. She kissed his cheek. The photograph fell to his lap as he relaxed. “He loved you to pieces, too.”
“I've been missing him a lot, lately,” Derek said. He closed his eyes and soaked in her embrace.
“That's understandable,” she said.
He sighed. “I don't know how I'm ever going to live up to him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he was... He was just... Dad. And he always knew how to handle everything.”
His mother chuckled. “Oh, Derek, if you only knew how lost your father was most of the time...” Her gaze tilted upward as she thought for a moment. “He dislocated your shoulder, once.”
“What?” Derek said. “I don't remember that at all.”
“It was an accident, of course. You were almost five. You insisted your closet was the way to Narnia and wouldn't come out. He lost his cool and tried to drag you out by your arm.”
Derek frowned. “I really don't remember that.”
“Oh, yes,” Mom said with a smile. “Your dad was completely beside himself. I had to drive us to the ER because he was so upset that he'd hurt you, he couldn't see straight.”
“Seriously?” Derek said, trying to picture his father as anything other than all-knowing and perfect.
His mother nodded. “Seriously. And that's just one of the things I can think of off the top of my head.”
“He always seemed so perfect on my end.”
Mom laughed. “Derek, that's what parenting is.”
“What do you mean?” Derek said.
“You'll always worry that you could do better, no matter what. In the end, though, you do the best you can do, and nine times out of ten, that's enough.”
“What about the one time out of ten where it's not?”
“What did your father used to say when you made a mistake?”
Derek rolled his eyes. “It builds character.”
Mom shrugged. “Well, there you have it.”
Derek sighed. “But how am I supposed to be a good parent? How am I supposed to care for somebody else, when I can barely deal with my own problems, right now?”
“You've been taking good care of Meredith,” Mom said.
“Meredith's different,” he muttered.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Meredith is an adult, and she knows when I need a break. A baby isn't going to know when Dad needs quiet or space.”
“I think that's true of any baby and any parent. Look what happened with your father.”
“But--”
“And you seemed to be doing a fine job at dinner, putting things that were bothering you aside,” his mother said, steamrolling any objection he could muster. Her embrace tightened. “I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit.”
“You really think I'll do okay?” Derek said.
“I know you will,” Mom said. “I've always thought you'd make an excellent parent.”
Her certainty made her almost impossible not to believe, and he let that certainty sweep over him. Meredith kept telling him over and over that he could do this. Maybe, he really could. Maybe, he was being a worrywart.
“When I visited you in the hospital,” Mom continued, “you were acting like your life was a jigsaw puzzle that somebody had shuffled up and scattered across the room. But, now, it's like you have most of the picture back together. You just need a little help with some of the leftover pieces you haven't found the correct places for.”
And speaking of pieces he hadn't found places for...
He leaned against her shoulder with a sigh. “I think I'm going to tell them.”
“Tell what to whom?” Mom said.
“Tell my sisters about my drug problem. I've been waffling all day about it. Worrying about how they'll react is probably just as bad as them knowing is going to be. I just want to get it over with, so I can move on, and so I can keep getting better for the baby.”
“I think that's a good plan,” she said.
“How bad do you think this will be?” Derek said.
“I don't think it will be that bad,” Mom said.
“But what happened with Amy--”
“Was a one time out of ten sort of thing,” Mom said. “And I think they've all learned from it. At least, I hope so. You did, after all.”
“I did,” he said slowly, “but--”
“You did,” his mother said, cutting him off. “No buts.”
Derek sighed. He set the picture of his dad back on the nightstand and stood reluctantly. His body ached. His head throbbed. But he needed to do this. His mother picked up the plate with the leftover pie and walked behind him down the narrow hallway. He stopped in the bathroom, and his mother went on ahead.
The stairs creaked as he descended, but the sounds were lost in the comparative din of the living room. The room glowed in a bath of soft lamplight and holiday-scented candles. Everybody was sitting in the big circle of chairs, talking in hushed voices that, due to the number of people involved, collectively didn't seem that hushed.
The adults were having some sort of conversation about tomorrow's plans, except for Amelia, who sat conspicuously silent and stiff in the corner by the old grandfather clock. Meredith mentioned The Phantom of the Opera, and Rachel was talking about Black Friday sales. The noise slid up Derek's spine in an unpleasant tingle of discordance, but it was more than tolerable.
Sabrina and Chloe had sprawled on the floor to play Uno. Patrick and David were lying like pretzels by Sabrina's feet, toy trucks still clutched in their hands despite their slumber. Mia sat in John's lap, her face pressed into her father's shoulder. Cody and Morgan, the youngest kids, had conked out in Steve's and... Meredith's laps, respectively. Morgan had her head tipped back against Meredith's shoulder, and her mouth had fallen open, displaying a pearly line of little baby teeth. Her frilly dress covered most of Meredith's swollen belly, and her tiny patent-leather mary-janes dangled beyond Meredith's knees. One small hand rested over Meredith's navel. Derek's heart squeezed at the scene.
“The Museum of Sex is my first stop,” Mark announced.
Rachel giggled.
“There's actually a museum for that?” Meredith said.
Mark nodded. “Yes. And my curiosity is burning. I got a Groupon deal if anyone wants to join me.”
“You got a Groupon deal,” Meredith said flatly.
“Yes,” Mark said.
“For a sex museum,” she said.
“Yep,” Mark said.
“I have to see it,” Meredith said.
“The Groupon or the museum?” he said.
Meredith giggled. “The museum. We don't have plans tomorrow morning, anyway.”
“I don't know,” Mark said. “Is Derek coming?”
Rachel rolled her eyes and threw a balled up napkin at him, which he deftly dodged. “You're as bad as Derek with the innuendo, sometimes,” she said.
“I might be sleeping,” Derek said from the stairwell. “But I'll come if I'm awake.”
Meredith spit out her drink in a curtailed, choking laugh, which miraculously didn't disturb her dozing charge. Blush crept across her cheeks, but she recovered quickly. Her eyes sparkled in the light as she beamed at him. His mother slipped back into the room and sat down next to Abby as he smiled tiredly at his wife.
Hi, she mouthed, and he winked back at her.
Kathy grinned at him. “Hey, sleepyhead,” his oldest sister said. “How are you feeling?”
Derek pulled his fingers through his hair. “Much better, thanks.”
“You were out forever. Are you going to be able to sleep tonight?” Rachel said with a frown.
“Yeah,” he said. “I'm sorry I wasn't here, much.” Stress, desire, and exertion had amalgamated, creating lightning rods for pain in all of his joints and a lot of his muscles. Stress over subjecting himself to fear. Desire to reduce the stress with Percocet. Exertion to keep the desire from snowballing. “I didn't intend to sleep that long. I'm really worn out.”
Kathy shrugged. “You're here. That's what matters.”
“Yeah,” Rachel added, “we're just thrilled you could make it.”
“Why does post-traumatic stress make you tired?” Chloe asked, looking up from her hand of cards. Sabrina craned her neck to look at him, too.
“Well,” Derek said. He blinked. They actually looked interested, particularly Chloe. He knew his sisters must have explained things briefly to the kids who were old enough to understand, but he wasn't sure how much deeper than don't-yell-near-your-uncle they'd gone. “It's not really that... but certain things like loud noises make me very anxious. It's just like being stressed out for a test at school or something. It makes me tired faster.”
“Oh,” Chloe said. “That makes sense.”
Sabrina frowned. “But why don't you like loud noises anymore?”
“I was shot,” Derek said. He knew his sisters had told them that, at least. “Guns are really loud.”
Sabrina shook her head. “Right. Duh. Sorry.”
Derek shrugged. “No reason to be sorry.”
“That really sucks,” Sabrina said. “People shouldn't have guns.”
“No, they shouldn't,” Derek said. He moved out of the stairwell and stepped over the minefield of bodies on the rug.
Mark, who seemed to have been fulfilling his role has a backup human shield in Derek's absence, and sat dutifully next to Meredith, said, “Hey, man.” He stood to give Derek the chair closest to his wife, and moved across the room to the empty piano bench. Derek took the seat gingerly, trying to avoid too much pain. He leaned across to kiss Meredith's ear, careful not to disturb his sleeping niece.
“Hey,” he said. “How are you doing?”
“I have a loaner baby,” Meredith said, tone proud, and he chuckled.
“I can see that,” he said.
“She wanted to feel the baby kick,” Meredith said. “I think she got bored when she couldn't.”
“She's up way past her bed time,” Kathy said. “That's all.”
“Yeah,” John said. He glanced at his watch. “We should really think about calling it a night. The kids are dropping like flies.”
“Wait,” Derek said before John could stand up.
John cocked his head to the side. “Hmm?”
Derek glanced at his mother, who nodded. Then he looked at Meredith, met her unblinking eyes. She knew what he meant without explanation.
You're sure? she said with her gaze.
I need to, he thought back at her.
She nodded as well. A thousand percent. I'm here.
She stretched out her fingers and touched his. She clasped his hand, strongly enough that his joints mashed together and the lines of his palm became the rise and fall of waves. The warmth of her skin warmed him. For a moment, he got lost in her gaze.
His commitment-phobic one-night stand, one he'd initiated simply to prove to himself that he wasn't as broken as his marriage to Addison had become, had turned into a pursuit to prove he could still pursue, had turned into a date to prove he could still date, had turned into another date because he liked her, had turned into countless mornings waking up in her bed because he really liked her, had turned into what he had finally realized was love. Somewhere between if-you-know-me-you'll-love-me in his sexy red shirt, and the moment Addison had stuck out her hand and haughtily introduced herself to Meredith, he'd fallen for her. Meredith Grey. The love of his life. His light in the dark. His very best friend. His soul mate.
He could recite the entire thing like a baseball play in slow motion, but he still couldn't explain the why or the how of it. He could only say that life, sometimes, had magic in it. Magic, and miracles, and the metaphysical.
His lips curled into a wide, goofy smile, unbidden, despite his nerves, despite everything.
“What?” she said. Morgan shifted sleepily in her arms.
“I just realized something,” he said. “That's all.”
Meredith's eyes narrowed. “What?” she said again.
He shrugged. “I feel... lucky.”
A simple statement, really, but her eyes widened like he'd told her he'd be back in the operating room tomorrow, removing somebody's malignant glioblastoma, or performing the resection of a spinal tumor, and it was his turn to cock his head and say, “What?”
“Mr. Optimism. He keeps popping up at the most unexpected moments, lately,” she replied, and a brilliant smile stretched across her face. “I like it a lot.”
He blinked, surprised by her assessment. He hadn't even noticed the onset. And, now that he thought about it, he realized Mr. Clark had been silent all afternoon. Ever since Derek had been able to lay some firm ground rules, rules they'd heard straight form his own lips, rather than rules they'd heard through the familial grapevine. Ever since he'd stood his ground despite every fiber in his body screaming at him to run away instead.
Fight for it, said his mental Meredith. Fight for what you need.
Real Meredith nodded, too, as though she'd heard her counterpart speak.
“There's something I want to talk to you guys about,” Derek said, turning back to his family.
“What is it?” Steve said.
“Is something wrong?” Rachel said.
“Let's put the kids in the library,” Mom said before he could say anything, and she stood. “Chloe, would you help me, dear?”
“Oh, lord,” Kathy said, glancing at their mother and then back to him. “What is it?”
Derek frowned, watching his mother move across the floor to collect Morgan from Meredith. Meredith shook her arms like they'd fallen asleep. Steve stood with Cody draped in his arms, and Chloe began to shepherd Patrick, David, and Mia, who were all varying degrees of asleep on their feet, out of the room, amidst a chorus of grumbles and whining.
“Sorry,” Derek said. “I didn't...” Think. At all.
Stress tightened in his chest as Steve and his mother reappeared. Chloe came back into the room and sat down in a heap next to Sabrina, who'd never left. He'd prepared himself, sort of, to talk with his sisters. With his brothers-in-law. Mr. Optimism or not, it was another thing entirely to see three of his nieces still sitting there. And, actually, he wasn't sure if Kathy would even want them there. His family had been circumspect with the children regarding Amelia's issues. Abby had found out by accident when she'd been a senior in high school, and that had been a bit of a mess because she hadn't been prepared for it whatsoever.
His gaze flicked to Amelia, who'd hunkered in her chair a bit like a turtle preparing for harassment by hiding in its shell. She shook her head at him vehemently. No, said her gaze. Don't even try it if you want this to go remotely well.
He tensed at that revelation. He turned back to the rest of the room. “I don't...” He cleared his throat and caught Kathy's stare directly. “I don't know if you want Sab and Chloe here for this. You might want to listen first and decide whether to tell them later.”
Sabrina pouted. “But I'm fifteen. I'm an adult!”
“It's probably just boring grownup stuff, anyway,” Chloe said, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah,” Derek said. He couldn't bring himself to laugh about it. “It's very boring.”
Kathy looked at her daughters sternly. “Why don't you two stay in the library for a bit?” she said. Not exactly as a request. Sabrina and Chloe threw their Uno cards on the ground and struggled to their feet. Chloe began to move away, but Sabrina folded her arms over her chest and stood her ground defiantly.
“Why can't we stay, Uncle Derek?” Sabrina said, peering at him with dark, angry eyes. Chloe, on the other hand, slunk away with an expression that said, Hey, don't drag me into this rebellion.
He shivered at the surge of nervousness that flooded him. Even though this was his niece. Even though she was smaller than Meredith. Despite all that, this was a confrontation, and a noisy one at that.
“Because I'm not sure it's age appropriate for you, and I'm not your mom or dad, so I don't decide whether you stay or not,” Derek said.
“But I'm mature!” she protested, stomping her foot.
Kathy let loose a sardonic laugh as she stood and pointed to the hallway. “Sabrina, out.”
“If you want us to think you're mature, this is not the way to do it,” John said, joining his wife.
Derek stood and forced himself to straighten his shoulders. “You heard your parents.” He pointed in the same direction Kathy had, setting his lips in a grim line. “Out.”
Sabrina gave him and Kathy and John a glare and stomped off, which made the chandelier in the dining room shake, and sort of made him feel like a jerk. He wasn't used to any of his nieces being pissed at him. He was supposed to be the Awesome Uncle, though he supposed he preferred Uncle Jerkface over Uncle Addict.
Kathy looked back at Derek. “Sorry, Der,” she said. “She's discovered she has hormones since you last saw her. It's not you.” And then her eyebrows rose in askance. “Abby?”
Derek swallowed. He glanced at Abby. The amazing young lady who idolized him. Abby looked back at him, confusion written all over her face. He wanted to say no, that she was too young, but she was in college. She could vote. She was an adult and could make her own choices, and she knew about Amelia already, so, there was little point in keeping her away from this revelation. “It's um... It's fine,” he said. Not. Not fine. He swallowed.
Meredith stroked his fingers with her thumb, remind him she was there. You'll always have me, no matter what your crazy family does, she seemed to be saying, though she didn't speak. He gave her a wavering smile despite his nerves.
Rachel laughed nervously. “Okay, what is it?”
His lungs didn't seem to want to fill. He shifted nervously from foot to foot. “I'm sorry,” he said breathily. “I need...”
“Take your time,” Kathy said, her voice low and soothing.
Say it, he thought. Just say it. Get it done. This was what he'd wanted, right? To move on? Fight for what you need. He took a deep breath. He had Meredith with him. Mark and Amelia and his Mom. There was almost an equal number of sympathetic people in this room as there were unknowns, now. Abby, Rachel, Kathy, Steve, and John. Four on five. Five on five if he counted himself. When he thought of the situation in those terms, like it was a checker board with red pieces and black pieces, a fair fight, things didn't seem as intimidating.
“I'm an addict,” Derek said quietly.
“To what?” Rachel said, laughing. “Lobbing bad innuendo at unsuspecting victims?”
“No, I mean I'm really an addict,” Derek said, barely able to find his voice. “After I was shot, I got addicted to my painkillers.”
“What do you mean?” Rachel said.
Derek took a deep breath, urging himself not to snap at her. This was kind of big. Of course, she wouldn't quite get it at first. “I mean that I've been sick. And Percocet made me feel better. And not a day goes by that I don't regret the choice I made to keep taking it, knowing that, but I made it. I'm an addict.”
Silence stretched. Kathy didn't look that shocked, but everybody else sure did. Steve's mouth had fallen open, and John was blinking like an idiot. Abby looked like she was trying not to cry. He hated to see her cry. He hated seeing any woman cry, but his niece, often still a child in his mind, wielded special heart-piercing swords with her tears. And then there was Rachel. Blush crept across her face, but Derek didn't think it was from embarrassment. Anger, maybe. Or... He didn't know. He tried to remind himself this was necessary. That it would be bad before it could be good. Like a wound that needed to be opened and cleaned before it could heal properly. But that didn't make it feel any less bad in the moment.
“But...” Abby said, the first to break the mind-wracking silence. She took a deep breath. Her voice was low and her syllables were stretched. His chest tightened. “You're okay, though, right?” she said.
“I'm better than I have been in a long time,” he replied.
“You're not going to jail?”
The question surprised him enough that a nervous, humorless laugh popped loose from his body. “No. No, I'm not going to jail.”
“Okay,” Abby said, nodding. She bit her lip like she didn't know what to say. “That's good. I knew someone at school who...” She swallowed, not finishing her sentence, but he could fill in the blanks.
And then her eyes darkened. She wiped her face. “How could you?” she said with belligerence that made him flinch, in part because it scared him a little, and in part because he didn't think he'd ever heard her speak in that tone of voice. The only thing he had shelved in old memories that compared was when he'd heard her fight with Kathy and John about getting a learner's permit. In that case, though, her tone had been more of a two-dimensional, pout-y, “Why are you being so unfair to me!” rather than a three-dimensional wail of betrayal, “Et tu, Brute?”
“I'm sor--” he said.
“Don't bother,” Abby replied icily.
Derek looked at the floor as his eldest niece stalked out of the room and disappeared into the kitchen. A chilly puff of air displaced by her passing hit him in the face in the midst of Kathy's repeated, “Abby? Abby!” that did no good for the situation whatsoever. Kathy didn't seem to have any idea whether to chase her daughter or to stay.
“She shouldn't have done that,” Kathy said.
“It's okay,” he added lamely, almost unable to find his voice. “It's... what I expected.”
“She's just being a stupid kid,” Mark said, a small, soothing voice of reason. “Don't take it personal, man.”
Even with the help, Derek didn't know what else to say.
For a long moment, it seemed like nobody knew what else there was to say, and he didn't miss the fact that, other than Abby, none of the “hostile” checker pieces had responded specifically to what he'd said. His eyes prickled, and his lower-lip quivered, and a big, thick lump expanded in his throat, but he didn't let any of that own him. Not right now. Not when, if he lost it, everything would get even worse. He wiped his eyes and didn't speak. He looked at Meredith for... he didn't know what. Help. Reassurance. Something. Anything.
Her eyes were filmy with unshed tears. I love you, she mouthed, and his knuckles smooshed together as she tightened her grip again.
He didn't know what else to say. What else could he say?
“So, Mom knew, and...” Rachel began slowly, her eyes and nose had scrunched in her I'm-doing-math-and-I-hate-it face. Her voice was thick and lost as she struggled through her thoughts. “Why didn't you say anything to us, Derek?”
Because he'd screwed up was his instinctive response, but his throat wouldn't work.
Meredith's hip pressed against him, reassuring him, and her fingers clenched around him, almost to the point of real pain, like she was trying to reassure herself. A wild thought flew into his head. Him telling her to push. Her reminding him she was allowed to break his hand because he'd said she could for this. And then she'd squeeze his hand a bit like that.
“He just did tell you,” Meredith said, pulling him back into the room from his musing, her tone borderline I'm-good-with-a-scalpel-don't-mess-with-me, her posture bristling. “Right now. Didn't you hear him?”
Rachel looked at Meredith. Goggled for a moment. “I mean... I meant before!”
Kathy nodded. “We could have helped you.”
“Are you guys serious?” Amelia said as she, too, rose to her feet. She rolled her eyes, and in an unexpected hailstorm of support, said, “He didn't tell you two because you're a pair of judgmental, hypocritical bitches. And if Nancy had been here, too, I doubt he'd have opened his mouth at all.”
His mother shook her head. “Amelia, language!”
“Hold on, now--” John began.
“She knew, too?” Rachel said.
“What?” Amelia said huffily, “It's true. At least, they're half civil without their bitch ringleader.”
“Language!” Mom repeated more sharply.
“Ladies,” Steve said, “Let's all calm--”
“I will not be calm!” Rachel snapped. “Amelia, what are you even talking about?”
Derek wasn't sure if Amelia supporting him had helped or hurt things.
Amelia rolled her eyes again. “Only the fact that you ostracized me for years.”
“That was a long time ago,” Kathy said.
“It wasn't a long time ago,” Amelia said. “I still don't feel comfortable at family bonanzas like this. And the only one of you who ever even apologized to me, though it took him more than a decade to get around to it, and also a painful trip to the land of 'me, too', was Derek.”
Kathy and Rachel sat in stunned silence, and the moment stretched, and stretched.
“Amy,” Kathy began slowly, “that was a long time ago.”
Rachel nodded. “I thought it was done.”
“It's not done,” Amelia said. “It's never done. I'm an addict. Derek's an addict. Addiction is a problem for life. We can be almost okay, but we can never be totally better, and this family needs to take its head out of its ass about it. He didn't tell you because he was terrified of you, and I honestly can't blame him, whether he's sick or not.”
“Thanks, Amy,” Derek snapped, finding his voice. “Thanks for your help.” He put the word help in air quotes. “This is really going well.”
At least Amelia had the decency to look like she felt a little guilty about throwing her Molotov cocktail into the lit cigarette party at the gas station. Silenced stretched to the point of being unbearable. Nobody spoke. Everybody stared. Derek wanted to crawl back to his mother's queen-sized bed, pull the covers over his head, and curl up in a ball.
“How about we all sit down,” Meredith said calmly. “And then, maybe, we can talk about this like adults.”
“Yes,” Mom said, “That's a good idea. Let's all take a timeout.”
“No,” Kathy said. “Wait.” When Kathy stood, Derek squeezed his eyes shut, prepared for the worst. “Amelia's right.” Derek's eyes snapped open in time to see Kathy walk over to Amy and hold out her hand. Amy snorted and didn't take it. “I'm sorry,” Kathy pressed. “We're both sorry,” she added, gesturing at Rachel, “and we should have said something instead of assuming things were okay. We created a pretty hostile environment.” Kathy sighed as if she were disappointed. “And then we unintentionally tried to let time sweep it under the rug to avoid a difficult conversation.” She turned to Derek. “I never wanted you to feel like you couldn't tell us something. I'm sorry.”
Rachel nodded. “Amy, I had no idea you felt that way. I see too many ODs wind up on my table. I would never be as stupid, now, as I was when we were younger, now that I've seen so much. I thought it was... Well, I thought it was obvious.”
“Obvious,” Amelia scoffed. “Obvious? Obvious is I am so sorry, Amelia, for treating you like dirt.”
Rachel flinched.
Kathy straightened, as though forcing herself not to engage in a petty fight. “I want to help,” she said coolly.
“We both do!” Rachel said with a thick voice. “Both of you.”
“Both of you,” Kathy agreed. “How can we help?”
Derek kneaded his jeans with nervous hands. “It took me three months to admit I even needed help.”
“So, you and Meredith did this all by yourselves?” Kathy said incredulously.
Meredith bit her lip. “We had Mark,” she said roughly. “Mark was there.”
The tips of Mark's ears turned pink. He shrugged. “I didn't do much.”
“Don't say that,” Meredith said. “You did a lot.”
“You did,” Derek said, tension making his throat hurt. “You did so much, Mark. Thank you.”
The pink on Mark's ears spread to his cheeks. “It really wasn't a big deal.”
“When did you tell Mom?” Kathy said.
“When I visited in October,” Mom said.
“And Amy?” Rachel said.
“I had a really bad day in September,” Derek said.
“And Mark?” Rachel said.
Derek glanced curiously at Mark. Mark had... always known.
“I told him in August,” Meredith said. “I didn't know what to do when I... figured it out.”
Derek squeezed her shoulder in support.
When nobody spoke, he felt a stupid, nerve-wracking need to fill the silence.
“I was selfish,” Derek said. “Selfish, and stupid, and I let this all get heaped on Meredith and Mark, particularly Meredith. And I'm sorry for that every day. I'm sorry for--”
“Shut up, you big, dumb idiot,” Rachel snapped. She blinked tears, and her voice cracked. “And I mean that in the nicest possible way.” She waved her hand at Amelia. “C'mere, squirt.”
Amelia rolled her eyes and stood. “What?”
“You, too, Derek,” Rachel said.
“What?” Derek said dumbly.
“Just come here,” Rachel said, pointing at the floor in front of her feet for emphasis.
The four of them converged at the center of the room. Rachel pushed closer. “Is this okay?” she said to him, raising her arms to show clear intent.
Derek swallowed. “What? Yes...”
And all at once, he and Amelia were at the center of a bear hug so tight it was hard to breathe, not that it mattered, because his breath froze in his chest.
“I thought you would hate me, now,” Derek said thickly, still not ready to believe what had just happened.
“We could never hate you,” Kathy said against his ear. “And we never hated Amy. You never hated Amy. We were all just...”
“Really, really stupid,” Rachel said. “All of us.”
His muscles relaxed. Finally. His jaw unclenched. Tension bled out of him as though his body were a sieve, and then he was just tired. Tired. Relieved. Derek's throat tightened. The room blurred. “I'm really sorr--”
“Didn't I say shut up?” Rachel said playfully.
“Let's just let it go,” Kathy said. “We're all here, now.”
Amelia snorted. “That's easy for you to say,” she said, muffled by the sibling dog pile.
Kathy sighed. “Look, we clearly all have unresolved issues. But we don't need to fix them all right now. One at a time, okay?”
“Fine,” Amelia grumbled.
“What just happened?” Steve said.
“I think they all agreed on something,” John added.
“Is that not normal?” Meredith said.
“No,” Derek said in choked up unison with his sisters. Beyond Kathy's shoulder, he saw his mother smiling.
After
“Derek,” said a soft voice. Meredith. “Derek...”
He opened his eyes to a strange blindness. Nothing but brown. A moment later, he realized this was the breakfast nook table, and he'd slumped to the point of collapse against it. Abby wasn't in his arms anymore. That's right. She'd left, and he'd put his head down for a moment... He rubbed his eyes, righted himself, and stared fuzzily up at Meredith.
“What time is it?” he said. A murmur of voices flitted through the air from the living room. It couldn't be too much later.
“Ten,” Meredith said. “Our taxi is here.”
“Oh, okay,” he said, still not quite functional. He stumbled to his feet. “Should say g'night.”
Meredith flashed a soft smile at him. “The adults are in the living room. The kids are down.” She wrapped her arms around him and stopped him from moving forward. “Hey.”
He looked at her.
“You made it,” she said.
A sleepy smile stretched across his face. “I did.”
She stared at him through her eyelashes. She sighed with content. “I think I like your family, by the way. They don't seem that mean, or judge-y, or freaky anymore.”
“I guess they've grown out of it for the most part,” Derek said.
She nodded. “People grow.” You have. I have.
Her unspoken words resonated with him. “I'm glad you're here,” he said.
“Me, too,” she said. Her lip twitched. She shifted on her feet. Put her hand on her belly. “I swear, this kid is running laps.”
He put a hand against her navel. The warmth of her skin through her shirt soothed him. “I can't wait until I can feel it, too,” he said.
“You will soon,” she said. She leaned onto her tiptoes and kissed him. “Let's go say goodbye,” she murmured against his lips.
He breathed in the soft scent of her lotion. Her hair. “Okay,” he said. And then he let her lead him home.