We've Got To Stop Meeting Like This

Perfect

Pacing back and forth in her apartment, Meredith had no idea what she was supposed to do. It had been two months since she'd last seen Derek. Eight weeks.

She missed him, like crazy, even more so right in this moment, if it were possible. He was due to phone her at any moment, but their next weekend together wasn't scheduled for another two weeks when he flew out to see her.

A loud groan escaped her lips as an unexpected wave of nausea rippled through her stomach. Her palm pressed to her forehead, the other flat against her stomach as she pressed her lips together in an attempt to try and stave off her intense need to vomit.

Realising it was a futile effort, she darted into her bathroom just before she emptied the minimal contents of her stomach into the toilet. Over the sound of her own retching, she could hear the faint ringing of her mobile in the living. There was no way she could move from where she sat next to the toilet, leaning back against the glass of the shower as the ringing stopped.

Her phone started ringing again, and she groaned softly, taking a few deep breaths before dragging herself into the living room. She swiped up her phone before immediately returning to the bathroom. She answered the phone, quickly noting that it was Derek who was calling, thankful he wasn't video calling.

"Hey," she spoke into the phone, coughing against the dryness in her throat.

"Hey, are you okay? What's wrong?"

An obvious concern laced his tone. She swallowed a little before answering, trying to not sound as pathetic as she felt.

"I'm fine, are you okay?"

"I'm good, just got out of surgery..."

Her head leant back against the glass of the shower, listening to him talk about his day. Her eyes closed, and she struggled to focus on his words as the nausea still sat in the pit of her stomach.

Her eyes snapped open as his voice sounded louder all of a sudden.

"Meredith, are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here, sorry."

Her words came out as a mumble, as much as she tried to not sound like she was ready to curl up in bed and go to sleep. She was exhausted from the vomiting.

"What's going on? And don't say you're fine because it's really obvious that you're not."

"I'm just feeling nauseous, I may have just thrown up before answering the phone," she tried to laugh a little, humourlessly.

She didn't want to worry him, but a dull pain started in her head. She groaned, massaging the side of her temple with her fingers.

"Baby, go lie down, we can talk later."

She could sense a hint of disappointment in his tone. They kept missing each other's calls over the past few days and had only communicated through voicemail and the odd text message; they had both been waiting desperately for the time for this phone call.

"Derek, no, I'm okay, honestly, I just want to talk with you."

Her voice cracked a little, involuntarily, as she spoke. She could hear his soft, worried smile on the other end.

"I'll stay on the phone with you, until you fall asleep. Please, just go and lay down, for me."

She bit her lip with a short sigh, taking a moment to think. She didn't want their call to end, but she wasn't going to be much of a participant in it when she felt like this. It probably was better that she went to lay down and nap, and speak to him when she felt better, more present.