fic: grey's anatomy

[paperskies]

Title: Weakness In Me
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Rating: M
Pairings: M/D
Spoilers: Set sometime after the end of season two. Season three and four never happened.
Summary: Stolen moments full of guilt. Temptation. The push and pull or right and wrong. To be with someone but to long for someone else is a madness that consumes you.

[I'm not the sort of person who falls in and quickly out of love
But to you, I give my affection, right from the start]

He stops her in a corridor. Just to say hello. With blue eyes that sparkle and torment and tug at something in her chest. She forgets about the pain and the present and fall into the past as he smiles.

To the past when he used to smile and she’d smile back.

It hurts, these moments and they cause guilt to spread even though it is completely innocent. It hurts but its something. And exchange of words. A look. A smile. It’s something.

[I have a lover who loves me - how could I break such a heart?
Yet still you get my attention]

She arrives home, seeking a refuge. But it’s cold and harsh, despite the man waiting inside for her. He greets her with arms open wide and she falls into them.

She hides her face in the collar of his shirt so he won’t see the love that’s not for him. She is a terrible liar and she knows her eyes speak the truth more than anything else.

“Mer?”

She fights down the feeling and pulls back. His green eyes are searching and she tries to make sure that there is nothing to find. Secrets and confessions bubble up her throat and press at her lips but she swallows them down.

“I’m just tired.”

It’s simple and not a complete lie. He accepts without question and just smiles softly.

Her breath leaves her and she hurries upstairs to her room, wishing he didn’t trust her so.

[Why do you come here, when you know I've got troubles enough?
Why do you call me, when you know I can't answer the phone?]

In the morning the house is empty and quiet. She reaches over, brushing a hand over the sheets. They’re cold and she knows he left early for work.

She lies still for a minute. Two. Three. The rain beats rhythmically against the glass planes and she can smell it, and him on her pillow.

The door bell rings and she rises, sluggish as she pulls on jeans and a sweater. They were on the floor and she suspects she wore them three days ago. They don’t smell like the man on her pillow. They smell like the man waiting outside her door.

She grants him entrance cautiously, images of being cradled in his arms in a darkened on call room rolling like a film behind her eyes. She remembers fiddling with the hem of this same sweater as tears coursed down her cheeks and the soft pads of his thumbs brushed them away.

She looks up and see the memory reflected in his eyes. Impossibly blue, she thinks.

“What are you doing, Derek?”

His dark curls are wet and tousled, dripping water down the contours of his neck. She can’t help but follow their path until they disappear into the cotton of his shirt.

“Do you want a lift to work?”

It’s not a personal question but she feels herself withdrawing all the same. He sees and takes a step forward as she take a step back, reaching out. His fingers brush her collarbone and fire races across her skin. They are soft and tempting but forbidden.

“Please,” His voice dips low in a plead and something inside her crumbles, “We’ll get coffee on the way. It will be fun. Meredith.” Please. He doesn’t have to add it to the end for her to know it’s there.

With a nod she goes upstairs to get ready. She comes back and he takes her hand gently to lead her and she lets him.

And despite everything, he makes her laugh on the way.

[And make me lie when I don't want to,
And make someone else some kind of an unknowing fool?]

She returns to the house in the early hours of the morning with George and Izzie, groggy and irritable. They proceed straight to bed but she tip toes into the living room. He’s asleep on the couch. She knows he tried to wait up for her.

Ice rips through her insides and she struggles to keep control. It’s these small acts that he does that tear her apart, the acts that that show her how much he cares. She wishes she could give him her whole heart but it hasn’t been hers to give for a long time.

She reaches forward and ever so gently runs her fingers through his chestnut hair. It’s soft and light and smells like lavender. He had used her shampoo, in the absence of his own. He’d probably run out and hadn’t picked up any more from the store. He was always forgetful like that.

It makes her giggle softly, a welcome release from the iron clad gloom that had encompassed her being the last few months.

At the happy sound, which he’d told her was like music to his ears after one day that had been particularly awful for him, his eyelids flicker, his lips twitch upwards and warm fingers came up to encircle her hand which is still in his hair. They squeeze and she grins, sadness lingering at the corners.

“Morning,” he slurs, his voice thick and husky with sleep. She shivers. His voice was usually like velvet, smooth and rich, and was what had made her turn her head that night in the bar. But now, half-asleep and hoarse, it made her ache with longing to feel his skin against her own.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“S’all right,” He sits up and blinks with bleary eyes that are still a bit hazy. Rubbing the back of his free hand over them roughly, he tugs with the other and she obliges, coming to rest in his lap.

“I came home early from work and saw your car here. Thought I’d get a whole evening with you. But it’s alright, Friends reruns kept me company.”

“I went in with Izzie this morning. I’m sorry.” Liar. Her mind screams at her but she pushes it aside, into that dark deep place that she keeps all her destructive thoughts.

“It’s fine, there’s nothing to apologize for.”

But there was.

His arms wrap tighter around her waist, pulling her closer, and he presses a tender kiss to the tense column of her neck. She relaxes, but only slightly.

She stays silent for awhile, curled up with her head resting on his warm shoulder. But the self loathing is rising through her like bile and she wants to tell him here and now. Wants him to go out and find someone he deserves. Someone whose baggage isn’t quite so damaged. Before long she knows she’ll ruin him as well.

“Jon…?”

“Mmhmm,” he mumbles into her hair, already on the brink of sleep.

“Nothing.”

[You make me stay when I should not?
Are you so strong or is all the weakness in me?]

“Meredith?”

She shuts her eyes, willing his voice to just fade away. She doesn’t want to, can’t, deal with him at the moment.

But she feels a warmth wash over her as he sits down on the bench, tentatively touching her shoulder. It’s a feather light brush, barely there, but she feels the familiar salty wetness at the corner of her eyes anyway. Blinking it away, she turns towards him, as if it were never there.

“Hey.”

“Hey…what are you doing,” He’s looking at her worriedly and she wishes he wouldn’t. He shouldn’t worry about her, shouldn’t care at all. He didn’t realize how much worse he made it just by looking at her.

For every look he cast her he may as well have pushed her against a wall and claimed her as his, as far as the level of guilt it caused to pour through her. She was cheating. The physical aspect wasn’t needed to prove it. When he looked at her like that and she looked back, it was as good as cheating.

“Sitting,” She trains her eyes forward as the cars slowly trickle out of the hospital car park. She watches Cristina charge off on her bike and she’s glad her friend didn’t see her.

“Where’s Jon?”

“Visiting his parents for a few days. It’s his mom’s birthday.”

“Oh…where do they live?” The polite conversation was a façade. She could feel the overwhelming emotion spilling from him like a dam had burst at the news that Jon was out of town. She hated that she recuperated the emotion. Relief.

“Port Townsend.”

“You…you didn’t want to go with him?

“No,” She swallows with difficulty and the tears prick at her eyes again. She should have wanted to go with him. His parents sounded wonderful. She could have probably even gotten over her fear of families. It was just his parents and little sister. But she hadn’t gone, said she couldn’t get the time off work. Another lie. They seemed to come more easily these days.

“It’s cold. Come get something to eat with me?” He’d gotten to his feet and was holding hand out for her. When it came to him, she had no strength to disagree or argue. Her weakness disgusted her but she hadn’t made any moves to resolve it.

She nods as she stands but doesn’t take his hand. A small victory.

[Why do you come here, and pretend to be just passing by?
I need to see you - I need to hold you - tightly]

He takes her to a diner and she’s glad. It fits, it’s casual, a place where friends would go. Not past lovers who couldn’t sever the tie that tugged at their lonely hearts.

Sitting at the table across from him, waiting for the food to arrive, feels almost normal. She even manages to smile and the cloudy mask in her eyes vanishes. It makes him brighten, she can visibly see it. He talks animatedly with wild hand gestures and a warm tone.

She forgets that she’s destructive and damaged, forgets about the pain swirling inside of her. And she forgets the guilt. For a few carefree minutes she’s just Meredith Grey, who laughs and loves as much as the next person.

But it all comes crashing down as he reaches for the her hand and asks if she is happy. Words die in her throat and she looks at him with tormented eyes that hold his answer.

But he can’t say anything else before she flees.

The air cool air outside hits her like a slap in the face, exactly like the revelation that she always knew but forever denied. Tears start to stream and she clutches at the freezing metal of the light post, gasping for air that struggles to reach her lungs.

Strong arms catch her as she starts to slip, one around her waist and the other over her shoulder. She presses her face against his chest and she breathes in the smell of leather, soap and sandalwood. Her tears soak the wool of his sweater and her hands grasp at the lapels of his jacket in a desperate attempt for comfort.

And he just holds her, his lips lightly brushing softly against her temple as he murmurs words of nonsense to soothe her.

[Feeling guilty,
Worried, waking from a tormented sleep
This old love, you know it has me bound,
But the new love cuts so deep]

The darkness puts her at ease. The emotions playing across her face couldn’t been seen in the inky blackness. It kept her secrets safe and hidden and private.

The arm across her hip feels heavy as does the guilt that settles in the bottom of her stomach. She turns and studies his face. Long dark lashes that were hiding brilliant green eyes that usually shone with laughter. Soft hair the colour of copper, that curled around his ears when it grew longer. Straight nose, strong jaw, and full lips that twisted upwards even in sleep. She reaches out and gently touches the spot between his eyes that was currently smooth, but where she knew little creases formed when he was worried or concerned.

She didn’t want to be the one that caused them to return but it seemed that was how things were playing out. She wanted there to be another way, but control was spinning out of her hands before she could grasp it.

Letting out a shaky sigh she tries to slip out as quietly as possible so as not to disturb him. A conversation was needed but she was in no state to have it in the middle of the night.

Sneaking downstairs, wincing at the creak that came from the one third from the bottom, she slumps down at the scrubbed wood table, not bothering to turn on the light. Darkness was her friend.

her mind wanders, on its own accord, back to the night a week ago.

When she cried a river but he didn’t mind.

It had hit her like a freight train, finally coming to terms that her efforts to be happy, bright and shiny, had failed miserably.

Jon would make someone else bright and shiny. He was good like that. In another life he probably could have done that for her. In a life that was removed of a man with startling cerulean eyes and thick curls.

She remembers how it felt when those deep pools of blue would fill with lust, when her fingers would tangled in the silky strands and whispers of love and longing were breathed in her ear.

Jon tried to protect her from her demons but he didn’t know them all.

He did, the man with the dazzling smile and five o’clock shadow, and he had come face to face with each one. He didn’t just protect her from them, he fought them for her, with soft touches and earnest promises that reverberated down to her core and chased away the shadows.

She sits there in the chill of her kitchen, with a heavy heart and regretful thoughts and a easy choice that should have been impossible.

[If I choose now, I'll lose out;
One of you has to fall...
I need you, and you]

She’s been moved to the couch in the living room. She must have fallen asleep at the kitchen table, mind finally at peace with the decision it had made. She can smell bacon cooking and the quiet chatter of Izzie and Jon.

She wants to stay on the couch forever, like it was an island and she wasn’t ready to take the plunge into the open water. Because once she stepped off, a heart would be broken and a part of her life disconnected. An island sounded more appealing, especially one with cushions as soft as this.

A knock at the door and she freezes.

Cold dread seeps through as Jon swings it open and she hears the voice on the other side. Not him, not now.

She scrambles across the rug and out into the hall, coming up short at the two men standing with squared shoulders and dangerous looks in their eyes.

They had met a sparse amount of times, an effort on her part to keep these two aspects of her life separate. But when they were forced into the same space the tension flowed like an open wound and didn’t cease despite the persistent attempts to stem it.

“Derek,” she whispers and her voice cracks. His eyes capture hers in a gaze brimming with so many withheld emotions she fights back a gasp.

“Dr Shepherd, it’s early, I think-“ Jon’s hands ball into fists and her gut wrenches.

“I came to talk to Meredith,” He doesn’t bother to look at Jon, though his tone is curt and harsh.

“Derek,” Her voice is a little stronger but it is an effort to do so, “I think you should leave.”

The hurt that flashes across his face makes her want to snatch the words back. But they’re said and she has to deal with any damage they have caused.

[Why do you come here, when you know I've got troubles enough?
Why do you call me, when you know I can't answer the phone?]

An hour later she sits in the middle of her bed, cross legged. Her eyes are blood-shot but there are no tell tale tracks now her cheeks.

Her cell rings for the fifth time and she doesn’t have to look at the screen to know who it is. Whose name will be flashing up at her accusingly. His wounded look haunts her and she presses the heels of her palms against her hot eyes.

The soft knock at the door startles her and she quickly silences the phone and drop it back into her bag. It feels suspiciously like hiding evidence even though no crime has been committed.

“You can come in.”

He walks in, tall and graceful, his light hair a mess from his worried fingers. She resists the urge to move forward and tame it. It’s not her place anymore.

“Meredith what was that?” He doesn’t sit down next to her, just paces at the end of the bed and the distance stings.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit it was nothing! Why is Derek Shepherd turning up at your house at seven in the morning. I find it hard to believe he wants to just talk. And even if he does there is always the hospital, you two probably run into each other all the time, huh?,” His voice had risen and she tries to hide her surprise and fear. Jon never yelled. He was soft spoken and calm. Gentle in everything he did. “Or he could just pick up the God damn phone, that wouldn’t be to hard.”

Her eyes shift to her bag involuntarily. She realizes it’s a mistake as soon as it happens.

Jon’s voice is quite now, but she catches the dark undertone.

“Have you slept with him, Meredith?”

“No,” She makes sure to meet his eyes as she says it, so he can see the truth reflected back at him. He nods, believing her, but he still paces.

“Jon..”

“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

“No Jon…I can’t do this any more. It’s to difficult to lie..”

His eyes shoot to look at her, overly bright and slightly wild, “You just said..”

“That was the truth…what I mean is,” He stops and just stares, his look lost and she bites her lip to keep it from trembling, “it sounds awful but…this relationship is a lie, I’m sorry, I-”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean? I lie…”

“I didn’t sleep with Derek, while you and I were dating, I did something much worse…I didn’t try and stop myself from loving him,” She closes her eyes so that she can’t see the emotions playing across his face, “ By keeping myself involved with him, even if it was only emotionally, I doomed this from the start. This, us, could...never be ‘forever’ and I’m so sorry for ever letting you believe that there was a chance it could be”

“Fuck Meredith, I love you. How could you possibly think Derek could give you something better than me when he makes you so miserable. I see it, most days when you come home from the hospital. Your eyes don’t lie. I know when you’ve been near him because your eyes look like someone just ripped your heart out. If he’s capable of that how could he make you happy?”

She doesn’t know how to explain it. How to tell him that the pain Derek made her feel was the most exquisite torture. Because it reminded her of what love is, how deep love goes, and the things that she would go through for just one more moment…

“It’s just how it is,” she whispers, with nothing more to say.

“Right,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. And then he’s gone. Probably forever.

She sits for awhile, twisting the bed covers in her fists.

Clench.

Release.

Clench.

Release.

[And make me lie when I don't want to,
And make someone else some kind of an unknowing fool?]

He packs up his things the next day. She doesn’t watch, just hides in the kitchen with her back to the door. He’s finished in half an hour and she hears his feet stop at the threshold.

“Did you love me at all, Meredith?” He needs to know this, needs the closure and the truth.

The truth. It was her last chance and she has to give it to him, even if it was going to twist the hurt a little more, a little deeper, a little harder.

“I tried to,” she says quietly and she hears a sharp intake of breath behind her, “You’re a wonderful person Jon, and I care about you. I’m s-”

“Don’t apologize again. Please.”

The front door closes and she knows it’s the last time he’ll walk out her door.

[And make me stay when I should not?
Are you so strong or is all the weakness in me?]

She doesn’t know what to do now that she’s here.

She had tried to call but it had been a lost cause. After three rings her fear would take hold, smothering and lethal, and she hurriedly put the receiver back down.

Instead she waited for her phone to ring, to flash his name across the screen. But he didn’t call again after her talk with Jon and she’d tried to not be disappointed.

She stares down at her linked fingers and debates what to do. Charge in to the trailer and say what exactly? I wasted an amazing man’s time and now I’m here to waste yours. Or maybe… I’m a mess but I still need you. Both would go down well wouldn’t they.

It starts to rain again, heavy droplets that pound against the car in reverberating sound that slows her pulse and steadies her breathing. But there is a tapping on the window and her efforts are wasted as her heart begins to hammer against her ribcage, courtesy of the man standing outside.

Quickly stepping out of the car, the rain fuses with her hair and tangles in her eyelashes. It soaks into his shirt and pools at their feet and drowns out the sound of her ragged breaths.

“Meredith?”

[Why do you come here, and pretend to be just passing by?]

“Meredith, what are you doing here?” His voice is not kind or welcoming. It is polite and clipped and she feels nauseas.

“I don’t know,” she barely whispers, at a loss for words and purpose.

“Well perhaps you should come back when you do,” He does not know what to think. He is still smarting from the dismissal the previous day, content to sit in his trailer confused and nursing his wounded pride(and a beer). But he is shocked at her appearance at his home, bedraggled and soaking in the rain. She has never come before, always refuses and her presence now has caused previously smothered hope to surface. A hope that this time she has come to stay, that this time she will not be walking away. “You should go home Meredith.”

She notices him start to turn, emotions flashing across his features, and finds the words slipping off her tongue in a hurried rush, desperate to keep him from leaving (her).

“I ended it with Jon.”

It stops him dead and he turns, his face this time expressionless and cold.

“Why would you do that?” He accuses her and she takes a step back, feeling the freezing metal of the car door press against her back.

“Why would you do that Meredith?” His voice has risen over the rain and he follows her forward until his body is a mere inch from hers but he is still miles away.

She knows what he wants. What he is trying to make her admit. And she wants to tell him, to just say it so the widening distance between them could be breached. She wants to tell him that she left Jon because of him, because she couldn’t stand the thought of going another day without his soft touch and warm smile. But instead she goes immediately into defence, an automatic reaction.

And her defence is to avoid.

“Why couldn’t you just leave me alone!” She shoots back, sending him reeling backwards.

“You were always there! You made no effort-”

“Meredith…”

His hushed tone silences her immediately and a tightness spreads in her chest. He’d spoken her name with a tenderness that had been absent since the day they parted ways, separated by misconceptions, hidden spouses and broken trust.

“I couldn’t stand…” He falters and leans forwards, careful of the barriers still between them. His hand reaches forward and his fingers brush across her forehead. “You always had creases here, like you were worried.” The tips gently trace beneath her eyes. “Dark shadows under your eyes, like you never slept.” The lightest touch at the corner of her mouth, barely there. “You were always frowning, like you had the world’s troubles on your shoulders.” Finally his fingers drift down and encircle her wrists in a warm grasp, a startling contrast to the icy rain marking trails down her skin. “And you were always worrying your watch, twisting and fiddling, as if there’s an ever going torment hiding somewhere deep inside you.”

He swallows and she can see it is a struggle, when it feels like your throat has closed up and there’s barely room to breath.

“I couldn’t stand it…I wanted to make it better, I wanted to be near you.”

“You made it worse,” she whispers, feeling raw and exposed, as if each touch had ripped away every defence she had until all that was left was a young woman at her most honest and vulnerable.

“I know.”

Silence stretched and the world melts away, fading into the rain, smothered by the downpour or water and emotions, a smokescreen built of memories both painful and wonderful.

“I left Jon because of you,” she breathes, barely a whisper, barely a murmur. She is relenting, giving him what he wants because she’s sick of not being able to give him anything at all.

She is pressed against the car again, this time by a body that is wet and warm and as familiar as it is foreign. Hungry lips seek hers and at the contact something explodes in her brain, sending euphoria racing through her veins in a way never experienced before. She feels like she’s floating and falling at the same time, her stomach twisting and head spinning in the most delicious of ways.

Her fingers tunnel through his hair, silky and soaking and a perfect beautiful mess. Her skin is hot and prickling, longing for a touch that has been sorely missed but remembered so dearly. His hands are on her cheeks, neck, shoulders, waist, tugging and desperate, pulling her closer than has ever been allowed in the months of separation. Her fingers grasp the collar of his jacket and with a swift pull he is flush against her, leaving him moaning into her mouth. The sound slips down her throat and dances along her spine and she wants it to dance forever.

[I need to see you - I need to hold you - tightly]