Let It Go

86.

Hours later, Meredith blinked her eyes open. She could tell it was late evening by the dim light streaming in through her window. She stretched, aware that Derek was beside her but his arms weren't around her. That was odd. He always slept with his strong body wrapped around her smaller one. She rolled over to face him and instantly knew that something was wrong. She sat up on her elbows to look at him.

"Morning," he said, reaching out to run his hand through her hair. "Don't you mean good evening?" Meredith asked, placing her hand over his. Derek smiled a little. "I've been up for a while," he confessed. Meredith frowned. "Did you sleep at all?" she asked. "Because you were in surgery for hours after being trapped for hours..." "I slept," Derek cut her off. "I woke up a couple hours ago." He leaned up and kissed her lips softly. She returned his kiss.

"Is everything okay?" she asked. "You look a little... Off." Derek slowly nodded. "I just...," he trailed off. He could lie. He could say everything was fine, he was just tired and working through everything he'd gone through the night before. She'd accept that and probably curl up beside him and urge him to go back to sleep. But he needed to tell her things, get things out in the open. It was the only way they were going to work.

"It was sunny that morning," he started. Meredith raised an eyebrow but didn't question whatever it was he was about to tell her. "I woke up, got dressed, went downstairs. My dad was visiting. He'd sent Mark a few weeks before to see how I was coping with the divorce. Mark came back to Virginia and told him I wasn't doing so well so Dad came up to Green Bay for a visit. When I came downstairs, Dad had already made coffee and had breakfast on the stove. I was bitching. I had a busy day that day - a surgery at 7:30, a meeting with the lawyers at 11, lunch with Mark at 1:30, another surgery at 3:00... I was complaining about the meeting with the lawyers. I had so much to do at the hospital that taking two hours out of my day to argue with her over who got the Jag seemed pointless."

Meredith laid her head down next to Derek's, content to let him talk. He looked nervous, even like he was in pain. But he also looked determined. She put a hand on his bare chest to reassure him, comfort him. He covered her hand with his and shot squeezed it gently. He continued to hold onto it as he continued his story.

"My cordotomy went really well. I left the hospital twenty minutes before eleven. The sun that had been out earlier had been replaced by clouds. It was chilly too. Not too chilly, but chilly enough to need a light jacket. I got in my car - I had a Land Rover at the time - and drove to the lawyers. I was listening to The Clash. I had the volume turned up loud while I drove, tyring to improve my mood.

"I got to the lawyer's, went inside. We were at Addison's lawyer's firm this time. I went up to the second floor and met my lawyer. We went over things quickly then headed inside. Addison was already there, seated with her lawyer. She was wearing a white sweater that cost way too much. It was one of her favorite sweaters though. We had a fight about it when I found out how much it cost. She was wearing a brown skirt, heels, a very Addison-like outfit. Her hair was curled like it usually was. She had her glasses on. Her glasses made her look cold, bitter even. Or maybe that was just the divorce. But she always looked strict when she'd put her glasses on.

"We started arguing almost right away. We'd already settled the house and most of our assests in other long, drawn out arguements, but the cars and alimony payments were sticking points. All I wanted was the Jag. It was a classic, mint condition. It was one of those cars you didn't drive, just kept covered in your garage so you could say you had it. But Addison knew how much it meant to me and she blamed me for the divorce. Getting the Jag would hurt me. So would alimony payments. We just argued. Our lawywers tried to stop us once or twice, but they gave up at some point. It was no use in stopping us. We got nowhere. I called her a bitch - more then once - and she got up, said we'd pick up again next week, and left. I listened to her heels clicking as she walked down the hall and likened her to a real life version of Cruella Deville. It was a lame similie but the best I could come up with at the time.