Work In Progress

Let the Truth Sting

(tw: self harm)

Derek drove for hour upon hours with no end in sight. He eventually slept at a rest stop figuring it was better to get sleep then drive while tired. In the morning he arrived at Sadies house to ask her about the events that happened the night before. He was very nervous but also a bit relieved to know she was okay and alive.

When he arrived at Sadie's it was around eight in the morning. He got out of the car in a hurry.  She opened the door for Derek.

"So what exactly happened?" he blurted out not even thinking.

"She came here around three in the morning with red eyes. Probably from crying.  She spoke about how she regretted leaving but we didn't get very far into the conversation without fighting. She left about three hours later then she came. If i'm guessing she spent the night at one of those shitty motels. Probably an hour from here."

"Oh my God thank you." He said before embracing her in a hug.

He ran to his car faster then he went to Sadie's. Derek grabbed the wheel and turned out of the parking lot.  While driving he realized that the gas was low and had to turn into a gas station.

"Damn." He spoke under his breath.

Is this what it'd feel like if Meredith got alzheimers? In a world where she'd forget everyone she cared about including her kids. Her own DNA. Her own blood. Everything about he that made her who she was. Would it all be gone? Those are the thoughts that raced through his head as he drove for those long hours.

He arrived at Western Meadows Motel and ran through the doors.

"Hello sir. Do you need a room?" A calm voice said.

"Actually I was wondering if a woman named Meredith Grey came through here?"

"I am not allowed to give you that information, sorry."

"She's my wife."

"You're lucky I don't care about my job." The small girl spoke as she grabbed the keyboard to look up if anyone had been registered.

"No Meredith Grey sorry. She might've went to Dual Willow about fifteen miles down."

"Okay, thank you so much." He spoke before bolting through the corridors to get to his car.

He sped a lot but this time it was with a full purpose. When he got to the next motel it was about nine at night. The day had felt like it had gone by so fast. He had only reached two destinations. He decided to take a rest stop to call Zola and Bailey but by the time he called they fell asleep. Alex obviously had questions but Derek didn't have time.

He walked into the hotel and headed straight towards the desk, this time prepared. He even had a copy of their marriage license.

"My wife is Meredith Grey. Has she checked in? I have a copy of our marriage license if you need it. I just need to know if she's okay." he rambled.

"Not needed. I can search her name if you need it." The woman with the name tag with the name Penny written on it.

"She's here in room 2435."

"I know it is a lot to ask of you but can I have a key? Like can you sneak me one?" he whispered.

"What do I get out of this?" She remarked.

"I am a world class neurosurgeon and if you are ever injured I don't know, maybe save your life."

"Deal."

"Thank you so much."

Derek fled to the elevators as fast as he could. Smashing the button on the elevator. He ended up on the second floor and searched for her room. He found her room and went to knock on the door.
"Meredith it's me. It's Derek. Can you please open the door?" He assumed she was being stubborn.

No Response

He grabbed the key and unlocked the door to a disturbing scene. Broken Tequila Bottles on the floor and a loud television playing in the background. A specific drawer hung open. The knife drawer.

"Meredith?" Derek yelled in search for her.

When he found her Meredith laid unconscious on the floor, blood dripping down her wrists. It was fresh, recent.

"Holy shit, Mer." he mumbled to the lifeless corpse.

He stumbled to grab the hotel phone and dialed 9-1-1. He searched for a pulse. Once he had found one he tried shaking her awake. She smelled strongly of Tequila. He ran into the kitchen to find something to stop the bleeding.

Napkins. Napkins. Napkins.

Paper towel? Fuck it. He grabbed the towel and applied pressure to her multiple wounds. They were deep. He held her in his arms just like he did about a year ago. Except they were hours away from the hospital. She was barely breathing but anything could make her bleed more. He felt entirely helpless.