Lightning Strikes Twice - Part 31B

[ariaadagio]

Title: Lightning Strikes Twice
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Pairing: Duh. (Mer/Der)
Rating: M
Timeline: Post Time After Time.

~~~~~

When she left, she tore around the corner and managed to find herself in the midst of the surgical wing before she stopped and thumped back against the wall by the steps.  The breath knocked in her chest.  The OR board stared back at her.  It was full, but the text blurred.  She couldn't focus.  She couldn't focus at all.  She heaved one sigh, two sighs, three.  Happy.  Bouncy.  Elated.  She was.  How was she going to make it through this?  She wanted to scream!  Hell, maybe she should get on the hospital PA system and say it.  Just say it.  Get it out there.  Derek and I are naked engaged!  Clothed engagement is pending!  So, then people would know why she was acting like an insane, sugar-highed freak, and, maybe, just maybe, people would stop asking her about it.  The smile.  The smile from hell that would not go away.

Because she was freaking happy.

Nobody sane was this happy.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened?" Cristina said, interrupting Meredith's kaleidoscope of thoughts.  Meredith blinked out of her brain spiral and found Cristina leaning against the wall next to her, arms over her chest, staring at the OR board, but not really looking at it.  Cristina blew a slow breath over a jutting lower lip as she leaned her head back and copied Meredith's I'm-trying-not-to-burst posture straight down to the subtle clenching of her fingers against her elbows and the almost crossing but not quite of her ankles.  Nurses and orderlies scurried past left and right.  Residents.  Surgeons.  People.  Everywhere.  Nobody looked at them.  They were just two surgical interns.  Standing in the bustle.  Not doing their jobs.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Dr. Sloane?" Meredith said.

"Says Dr. Weller's brand new beck and call girl?"

"Touché."

"So, what happened?"

Meredith turned to Cristina and sighed.  I'm engaged.  I'm getting married on some yet-to-be-determined date.  And I'm freaking happy for once in my freaking life because the man I love loves me.  Freaking.  Loves me.  Except she couldn't bring herself to say it.  Not when Cristina looked so...

So miserable.

"Why on Earth does everyone assume something happened?" Meredith said, and then the babble started.  "I went on a vacation.  I met Derek's family.  I saw the Big Apple, which, really?  Is not much like an apple or a fruit of any kind, by the way.  There was a car accident, Derek momentarily forgot my existence, and Nancy treated me like an adulterous whore for a few days, but it's fixed, we're good, it's all fine.  I'm fine.  Derek is fine, well, mostly fine.  Okay, Derek is sick.  But he's sick in a fine way.  Okay?  That's it."

Cristina rolled her eyes and shifted into a lean, one shoulder jammed against the wall, the other pointing out toward the hallway.  The crossed arms stayed crossed, the ankles stayed almost crossed.  But it was closer.  More intimate.  She leaned in, her eyes darting left and right.  They had relative privacy.  There were no easy places to hide nearby, and if they kept their voices low, who would hear them in the whirl of back-and-forth activity?  Cristina said, her voice low and whispery and fast, "Meredith, you hung up on me after I told you about the Chief thing, and now you're so happy you're acting like you're on drugs.  I'm thinking there's just the slightest disconnect."

"Oh, that," Meredith said.  "And two smiles does not equate to being high."

"Yes, that," Cristina replied.  "And, with you, I beg to differ.  Lately, anyway.  Plus?  More like fifty smiles.  And a hop.  You hopped, Meredith.  You don't hop."

"Fine," Meredith said, rolling her eyes.  "Fine, I guess I've been a little mopey lately."

"A little."

"Okay, a lot.  But I'm fine, now.  Really fine.  More than fine.  And I talked to Derek about the Chief thing.  He's definitely getting shut out because he's with me."

"Why isn't Burke getting shafted because of me then?"

"Because you're not the Chief's adulterous fake-child."

"I don't get it."

"Chief is apparently playing fake-daddy and forcing Derek be a good fi-boyfriend."

Meredith made herself breathe.  That had been close.  She was doing Derek's thing.  Derek was the one who couldn't say the word girlfriend anymore without stumbling first.  Damn it.

Forget the week being torture.  This day was torture.

Torture.

"He's shutting down Chief because he wants McDreamy to be McDreamier?" Cristina said.  She snorted and shook her head.  "That's ridiculous."

"That's essentially what I said."

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"You should file a complaint," Cristina said.

"That's what I told Derek."

"Well, is he going to file a complaint?"

"No," Meredith replied  "He said it didn't matter anyway."

"Oh, Meredith," Cristina said, her tone dropping into something woeful.

"What?"

Cristina caught her eyes in an apologetic stare.  "McDreamy's so McWhipped for you."

"Well," Meredith said, inhaling.  "Yeah."

And then that blasted smile came back, and she was stuck doing laps around her mind's eye picture of her ring.  Engaged.  Her.  Derek.  Hers.  Always.  And why would something like that make Cristina seem apologetic?

"Yeah?" Cristina said, her eyes widening as she practically choked on her tongue in an uncharacteristic bout of flailing... expressions.  "You're agreeing with me?"

"Yes."

"As in, you're definitively positive he loves you?"

"Yes."

Cristina shook her head.  "This is beyond bizarre."

"What is?"

"You're really not kidding, are you?"

"About what?" Meredith asked.

"There's something..." Cristina began, her voice trailing away.  Her eyes ticked back and forth as she searched Meredith's face for...  Her gaze narrowed, and her tone dropped into something suspicious as she continued, "Something happened."

"Why does everyone think something happened!" Meredith said.  She blew out a frustrated puff of air that sent some of her loose bangs flying.  Everyone thought something had happened because she was telegraphing the fact that she was happy beyond words.  Fine was the understatement of the year.  The century.

Engaged.  I am.  Engaged.  She couldn't hold it in.  She just had to tell... Somebody.  She sucked in a breath.  Her person.  Cristina.  It seemed dangerous to tell her.  Dangerous because... Cristina was already engaged.  And Cristina wasn't happy at all about it.  And... would Cristina really do the whole "Yay!" thing that Meredith found herself coveting?  Especially when it was Derek who'd done the proposing.  Cristina had never really... gotten onboard with the whole Meredith and Derek 2.0 revival.  Derek was tolerated for Meredith's sake.  That was the impression Meredith had always gotten since...  Since Addison had come traipsing out of the woodwork in her high heels and ridiculously expensive skirts.  Cristina would definitely figure out the sex part, too.  She was the kind of person who would press for the details until they came out into the open in all their naked glory.

It seemed wrong not to tell Cristina.  And, yet, it seemed wrong to tell Cristina.  But...

She inhaled, almost ready to give in.  The syllables gathered in her chest, ready to pop out of her if she'd just give them the slightest push.  Engaged.  I am.  Engaged.  Cristina.  Her person--

"So, Burke and I are thinking about the day after the intern exams," Cristina said, abruptly jumping subjects, and Meredith felt herself deflating.

"For your wedding?" Meredith asked, the words hitchhiking out of her mouth on the last remnants of the sigh that would have said, Engaged!  Me!

"Yeah."

Meredith narrowed her eyes.  "Is this Burke's idea or yours?"

"Burke's..."

"Cristina," Meredith began hesitantly.  "Are you...  Are you sure?  He's...  He's sort of forcing you into a lot.  And that's...  Cristina, it's not supposed to be like that."

"We're fine," Cristina snapped.

"Right."

"It's fine, Meredith."

"Okay," Meredith said.  She didn't want to fight about this.  She didn't.  It's just...  Everything she felt.  Everything she felt seemed right.  And now?  Now, everything Cristina seemed to be feeling seemed wrong.  And that just...  Something was wrong.  And Cristina just...

Would Cristina even know?  Would she even know things were wrong?

Or maybe they weren't wrong.  Just different.

But...

"Meredith?" Cristina said, her voice low and hesitant.

"Yeah?"

Meredith turned in time to see Cristina shuffle forward on her feet, shuffle and twitch, her hands inching away from her torso, almost like...  Like she was moving in for a hug.  But then Cristina halted, went still, and decided instead to say, "I'm glad you're fine," as she settled back against the wall like nothing had happened.  Like she hadn't spent the last few seconds debating about initiating a gesture that Cristina Yang...  Just.  Didn't.  Do.

"Me, too," Meredith said with a smile.  "What cake did you pick?"

"Red velvet."

Meredith nodded.  "Good flavor."

"Yeah," Cristina said.  "Well, I'd better..."

Cristina shifted on her feet for a second, as if she were debating saying hell with it and staying to shoot the breeze, like she needed to...  Needed to stay.  Needed it.  It was so...  Odd.  Meredith nodded, and then Cristina disappeared down the hall in a rush of moving limbs, almost like she was fleeing, leaving Meredith alone in the hallway again.  And that was... Odd.  Odd as well.

Why did everything seem so damned strange after just one week?

She sighed.

So.  Dr. Weller.  He would be...  Where would he be?  Probably...  Hmmm.  She didn't even have a clue where to start.  She didn't know Dr. Weller all that well.  She turned to head toward the gallery and check it since it was the closest major traffic area for surgeons that she could think of, only to practically smack her nose into Mark's chest.

"Dr. Grey," he said as he reached out to steady her.  He snatched his hands back in an almost flinching gesture when she brushed him away.  That was weird...  She shook her head.  Was there no one on the staff who wouldn't bump into her before the day was out?  This was like the twelve labors of Hercules or something.  Which person would she blab to?  Which person would she not be able to withstand telling in the ultimate battle of happy naked engagement versus sanity?

"Dr. Sloane," Meredith said.  Abrupt.  That had been too abrupt.  She'd overcompensated.  "Cristina, er, Dr. Yang looked like she was headed for your office if you're looking for her."

Mark closed his eyes and took a breath, shaking his head minutely.  "Is Derek in today?" he asked without precursor.  "I haven't seen him around, and he's not answering pages."

Meredith frowned.  "No," she said.  Okay, not telling Mark?  Not telling Mark was proving to be really easy.  She had no desire to go there.  None.

"Oh," Mark said, his eyes widening in surprise, almost a sort of relief.  As if he had suspected that Derek had just been actively avoiding him.  "Okay," he added in a thick, weighted tone.  He sighed and turned.  "My office, you said?"

"Dr. Sloane, are you all right?" she found herself asking.  Wait.  Stop.  Why ask that?

Damn it.

He sighed again and turned back.  There was an uncharacteristic...  Heaviness to his features.  His shoulders slumped, which looked odd against his tall, muscular frame.  People like Mark weren't supposed to slouch like that.  "How was the reunion?" he said, his voice calm and flat, but she didn't miss the bitterness creeping there against the lower registers.

Well, you said Mark was practically family.  Why isn't he here?

Mom didn't invite him this year.

Because of Derek?

Mom didn't think he'd come if he thought Mark would be here.

She swallowed thickly.  Oh.  Oh.  That was... Not good.  She hadn't thought about...  A lump formed in the back of her throat.

Derek hated Mark.  Well, Derek was twisted up inside about Mark.  He loved Mark.  He missed Mark.  But... Mark and Addison...  He loved Mark, missed Mark, but the whole stabbing betrayal thing was a bit too loud for anything else to punch through the internal tangle and still make sense.  She wouldn't necessarily call the result hate, though that was the closest word she could come up with.  Derek hated Mark, and his family, coincidentally Mark's family, if what Sarah had said, if what Derek had indicated, were even remotely true...  His family had had to choose.

And Mark was the... Not chosen.  Whatever.

"It was..." she managed as a sinking feeling started pulling her under.  "Different."

Mark nodded. "Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"The first time you have a family after having no one, it can be a bit of a shock," he said stiffly.  Meredith blinked.  How did he...

I just saw my father for the first time in twenty years.

How'd that go?

Could have gone better.

"I-" she stuttered.  She couldn't have this conversation.  Not with Mark.  Derek needed to have this conversation with Mark.  Not her.

Mark grunted.  "Will Derek be in later, or?"

Meredith frowned when she realized Mark didn't seem to know.  "Derek's out sick, Mark.  We were in a car accident."

Mark turned to her, his eyes widened, his breath caught, and he managed a hoarse, "What?"  He raised his hands and swept his fingers down his cheeks to the tip of his chin in an agitated, flicking gesture that scraped hollowly against his beard.  The skin around his eyes twitched.

"He's fine," Meredith assured him, trying to ignore the worry as it slathered across Mark's face like an oil slick of badness.  It was hard.  It was very hard, suddenly.  To keep herself out of this.  To keep herself Mark-neutral.  She'd managed neutral before.  Not hate.  He was too much... Like her.  For her to hate him.  Self-destructive.  Liked to fix things with sex, even when it was the worst thing possible to try and fix things with.

She couldn't do the hate thing.  Not even for Derek.  She wasn't that person.  She didn't toss that sort of dislike around lightly.  And Mark had never done anything to her.  Not really.  Except, well, except be an arrogant letch.  But that was...  That fell into the liked to fix things with sex, even when it was the worst thing possible to try and fix things with category.  And, besides, that hadn't gone anywhere.

She tried to ignore the worry on his face.  She did.  She tried to be neutral.  She tried to be good at the supportive fiancé thing right then, even though Derek wasn't around to watch her or know about it.  But the look on Mark's face?  Freaking hard to ignore.

And, oddly, the whole mess with Mark felt like her business now.  She'd gone with Derek to Connecticut, she'd watched him fall apart all over again over Mark, she'd watched him in New York as he'd... lived through all the good and bad Mark stuff that'd already happened.  Again.  She'd sat with his family while they'd openly admitted shoving Mark out on his figurative ass if only to get Derek to come home.

"He got a bad concussion," she added finally when the worry continued to sit on Mark's face like an obnoxious restaurant patron, wouldn't go away, and refused to be ignored.  "And he's still a little sick from it."

"Oh," Mark said.  "But he's okay?"

"Yes, Mark," she said.  "He's fine."

"How is..."  Mark paused to swallow.  His eyes watered.  Extra liquid swirled in a shiny film over his eyes, but, as far as expressions went, he really didn't have one.  Mask.  Masking Mark.  "Everyone else?"

"Everyone else?"

"The Shepherd clan.  Did Stewart finally get his capture the flag win this year?"

"Oh," Meredith said.  "Yeah.  Blue kicked ass."  She caught herself before she babbled about being a jail guard.  Mark didn't need to hear about that part.  Mark probably wouldn't want to.  Awkward.  Awkward.  Awkward.

She was the new quarterback, talking to the new benchwarmer.

And that was... Weird.

"Good.  That's..."  Mark paused to clear his throat.  "That's good.  Will you tell Derek I want to talk with him when he gets the chance?"

"Sure."

"Thanks," he said.  "He needs to stop cracking his head on things.  The last time was bad enough."

"The motorcycle thing?" Meredith found herself asking.

"Yeah," Mark replied.  A strange, uncomfortable look crossed his face.  "He actually told you about that?  He doesn't...  He doesn't talk about that."

"Yeah.  It was this whole thing.  With medical histories."

"Right," Mark said, as if what she'd said make perfect sense.  Which, really, it totally didn't.  "Well, talk to you later, Dr. Grey."

"Later, Dr. Sloane," she said.

She didn't realize she was shaking until he'd left.  Actually shaking.  What the hell?  What the hell was wrong with her?  Well, at least she wasn't smiling her freaking face off anymore.  She stood there and forced herself to breathe.  That was...  That had been...

Bad.

Really.

"Meredith."

She froze.  Okay.  Day?  Plummeting.  Plummeting fast.

"Chief," she said flatly.

Chief Webber stood in front of her, dressed in leftover surgical gear.  His surgical mask hung loosely by the lower neck ties down against his chest.  He looked... pleased.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice low and rich and... kind.  Like he hadn't just ruined Derek's career for her.  Like he cared.  "Better?"

"Fine," she snapped, unable to suppress a glare.  Definitely not hard to skip the whole engagement blabbing there...

"Ready for your exam?" he said.

"I hope so.  Look, I have rounds," she said, resisting the urge to snap and growl.  She hated Chief Webber right then.  She hated him.  The hate she'd refused for Mark?  She had it in spades right that moment.  But she wasn't going to bring the Chief thing up. She wasn't.  Not then.  Not in front of the whole hospital.  Derek didn't need his dirty laundry strung up for everyone to see.  Derek.  Derek wouldn't want that.  She wasn't even entirely sure Derek wanted Chief at all anymore.  And so she held her tongue.  Barely.

"Of course," he said.  "Susan is fine, by the way," he said as she turned, intent on leaving him in the dust, getting away from him, moving to somewhere where she could snarl for a moment unhindered by propriety.

She halted mid-step and wheeled back around to face him.  "What?"

"Susan.  We just corrected a complication from her endoscopic gastroplication.  She's fine, now."

"She had surgery?"

"Yes.  Well, the first one was yesterday."

"Susan Grey had surgery?" Meredith asked.  Her eyes darted to the OR board.  The OR board that she hadn't read before.  Couldn't read before when she'd looked at it.  There, still listed in OR 6.  Susan Grey.  Listed surgeon, Richard Webber.  She swallowed.  How had she missed that?

Susan Grey had had a surgical complication, and Meredith Grey hadn't even known she'd had surgery to have a complication about.  And that...  That...

She felt like her stomach was dropping into her shoes.  Susan had been having surgery yesterday while Meredith had been having happily oblivious plane sex.  Susan had been having surgery that...

Meredith glanced at the board, checked the corrective procedure.

Having surgery that had almost killed her.

"Yes, Meredith.  I'm sorry.  I thought you knew.  Wasn't that why you were waiting out here?"

"No, I didn't know," she snapped, and then she found herself running, well, more like darting, walking fast, whatever.  Politeness be damned.  Dr. Weller.  She had to find Dr. Weller.  To do stuff.  Stuff that didn't involve telling everyone about Derek's naked proposal, that didn't involve everyone thinking she was high, that didn't involve awkward talks with Mark, that didn't involve Chief Webber trying to be her freaking father when he wasn't, that didn't involve her fake mother having endoscopic gastroplication that had failed dismally.

She looked everywhere.  She tried Dr. Weller's office.  She tried all the operating rooms, well, except number six.  She checked the nurses' station.  It was all a blur, but she was determined.  Determined to do stuff.  She practically ran laps around the hospital.  Looking for him.  If it were Derek, she would have found him by then.  Derek was everywhere, all the time.  But Dr. Weller?  Not Derek.

She sighed, frustrated, when she realized she was walking through one of the post op recovery areas.  She was...  Susan.  She blinked.  Susan lay swathed in blankets as a nurse checked her over.

"Susan," Meredith said as her feet walked her over to Susan's bed while her brain seized up and froze.

Susan was awake.  Pale.  Disheveled.  But awake.  A monitor ticked off her slow heartbeats for anyone who bothered to look.  Meredith looked.  Meredith looked again.

"Meredith.  I thought you were on vacation," Susan said.  Her voice was quiet and tired and a little groggy.  But she was awake.  Awake and... Fine.  "Who would have thought hiccups could get so complicated?"  The brief beginnings of a chuckle fell from Susan's lips, only to curtail into silence when she winced and apparently decided better of it.

"I'm," Meredith said, but the word broke somewhere in her throat, and all she got was a cracking sound.  She pulled up a little wheeled stool next to the bed and sank down onto it.  The foamy top squeaked as it surrendered to her slight weight.  "I'm back.  I went to Connecticut with Derek."

"Really?  I have some family in Connecticut.  What part?"

"Sharon."

"My sister lives in Hartford," Susan replied.  Her eyes dipped shut for a moment, and she sighed.

Meredith stared down at the bed.  Susan looked really...  Tired.  Pale.  She was fine.  Heart monitor said fine.  Just fine.  Meredith snaked her arms over the railing, picked up Susan's nearest hand, and squeezed it.

"I'm all right, Meredith," Susan said as if she'd peered into Meredith's mind and just... known.  Known what the worry was about.  "So, tell me about this vacation?  Distract me from the nausea."

"You're nauseated?" Meredith said.  She bit her lip.  "We can give you something for that, you know.  It's a common side effect of anesthesia."

But Susan just shook her head and waved the hand Meredith wasn't holding at her.  "I'll be fine in a minute.  I just need to...  To wake up.  So.  Connecticut?"

Meredith sighed, staring at Susan, just staring.  She'd had surgery, and Meredith hadn't even known?  Hadn't even been told?  Two weeks ago...  She probably wouldn't have cared.  And now?  Now... She cared.  She did.  Really.  She wondered if Thatcher was in the waiting room, waiting for news.  Dr. Webber would tell him Susan was fine.

Susan.  Fine.

She swallowed, and suddenly, it was all coming out in a tumble.  "Connecticut.  I.  We.  Well.  New York.  And capture the flag.  Derek..." she said, the words twisting as her thoughts ran away with her.  "I stirred cookie batter."

Susan looked at her, her lips curling in confused amusement.  "I hope you sampled some," she said, latching onto the only coherent thing that had jumped out of Meredith's mouth.  "Cookie baking is only as good as however many spoonfuls you steal."

Meredith laughed.  Susan chuckled breathily.  "I'm sorry," Meredith said.  "You could have called me about..."

Susan shook her head.  "It was sort of a last minute thing.  And you were on vacation."

"Call me next time," Meredith said.

Susan regarded her quietly for a minute.  "All right," she said.

They sat in peaceful silence as the floor nurse came to check Susan's vitals.  "Looking great, Mrs. Grey," the nurse said cheerfully as she bounced from monitor to monitor, making sure everything was fine.  Fine.  Fine.  All fine.  But a complication?  That indicated it nearly hadn't been.  "We should be able to move you down to your room soon."

The nurse left.  The silence that followed built.  Built and built and built.  Susan rested with her eyes shut, a small grin pursing her lips, enough to show that she was awake.  Just...  Relaxing.  Which was good.  She needed to rest.  She'd be groggy for a while.  And she probably just wanted to sleep right then, but... But...

"Derek and I are engaged," Meredith blurted.

Susan's eyes creaked open.  She stared at Meredith for a moment, but slowly, as the seconds traipsed past, a wide, gorgeous smile spread across her pale features.  Her fingers squeezed around Meredith's, warm and firm and solid.  Fine.  "Congratulations!" she exclaimed, still a little hoarse, but...

The smile from before, the smile that'd slowly dissipated as the morning had progressed, came back sort of like a truck running into a wall at full-bore.  Slam!  The truck crunched into a flat pile of squealing, screaming metal.  Bricks collapsed in a dusty pile as they plinked down onto the pavement.  Bits and pieces of broken things fluttered everywhere.  Her cheeks started to ache as they gripped her lips and held them back from her teeth, refusing to let go.  It felt.

So, so good.

"Don't tell anyone," Meredith said, breathless as her heart started to throb.  "Okay?  It's not...  Official yet.  I'm sorry.  You're healing.  But I just had to... I had to tell someone, and I..."

A fuzzy warmth spread through her body as Susan squeezed her hand again, silencing her.  It wasn't the hug she'd wanted, but...

No, it was better.

The nurse returned.  "Mrs. Grey?  It's time to move you back to your room now."

"Okay," Susan said.  "Come visit me later, Meredith?"

Meredith smiled.  "Sure."

She watched as the nurse pushed Susan's bed away, leaving Meredith alone in the post op area.  Relatively.  Give or take a few nurses and an orderly passing through.  She rocked onto her feet.  The stool squeaked and wandered away from the backs of her knees across the floor in response.  She stood there, almost swaying, almost... Drunk.

"Dr. Grey?" a deep, baritone voice said.  She turned to see a tall, brown-haired man with angular features approaching her.  He was thin.  Neither muscular nor toned, just thin. In his mid to late thirties.  He was handsome, but not...  Not a knockout or anything.

"Dr. Weller," Meredith said breathlessly.  "I'm so sorry.  I've been looking for you everywhere."

He smiled.  "Not a problem," he said.  No, he definitely didn't have the arrogant surgeon vibe common to so many of them.  "I was down in the cafeteria trying to get some decent coffee.  I'll be doing a VNS implantation later today if you'd like to join me.  Dr. Shepherd mentioned you were particularly interested in neurosurgery."

Her mouth fell open.  "Um.  Yes.  Yes, definitely," she said.  "You picked me because I'd be interested?"  And he was giving her the opportunity to say no thanks?  What?  That...  That was just weird.  Attendings picked interns to do the scut work and maybe learn something.  They didn't pick interns because they might be interested...

Dr. Weller shrugged.  "An interested intern is always a more helpful one," he said.  "I'd appreciate it if you would do the prep work.  Room 243.  Mr. Brent Dixon."

"Sure," Meredith replied.  "Thank you, Dr. Weller."

Dr. Weller winked, departed, and then she was alone again.

She smiled.  Fake-mommy was fine.  She was fine.  Meredith was doing a VNS implantation.  That was pretty cool.  She was engaged.  That was even cooler.  And...  The screaming voice that had begged her to tell someone all morning about said engagement had finally shut the hell up.

Engaged.  Her!  The excitement stayed happily in her head, tumbling, bouncing...  But not on the tip of her tongue, waiting for a weak moment to bounce off her taste buds like a diver off a diving board.  She licked her lips.  Smiling.  Smiling.  Smiling.

But that was okay.  Smiling was okay.

Maybe this day wouldn't be so torturous after all.