I Wanna Be Yours

"Chapter 30"

Her headache doesn't want to go away.

Meredith is sitting in the dim light of her office, blinds drawn, barely a sliver of light coming in, just enough for her to see the paperwork in front of her eyes. Her handwriting is blurring, the letters and numbers mixing as she slowly massages her temples.

She started her day with an easy but necessary aneurysm repair, rocked it, then hid in the cave of her office, only leaving to use the bathroom. She cannot deal with people today, and since her house is full of Shepherds, her office is her respite.

Well, there's only two Shepherds, and now there's probably none, since Derek is in an OR somewhere and David is at school, but she can't be home and work at the same time, so office is her best option.

She's been calling her potential trial patients for the last hour, explaining the procedure, trying to convince them she can be their last chance.

Meredith writes down today's date right next to the last patient she called on the list, ticking the box next to his name, then exhaling loudly.

It's been a stab in her heart every time she has written those numbers, but she can't dwell much on today. Or at least, what was happening today six years ago.

She can't, but her mind wanders without her permission anyway.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Meredith stares at the IV in her arm, listens to the steady beeping of the monitors in her right ear, tears pricking her eyes as she rubs her round belly, stroking the rough fabric of the hospital gown. Her skin used to ripple and curve and shift as her son moved inside of her, but now everything is still and quiet.

There's no fetal monitor, no nurse coming in and out to check her vitals and her baby, just silence.

She will never take a screaming baby home.

Her gaze lifts to the dark windows, tears blurring her vision.

She already misses her baby, and he's not even outside of her, yet. Maybe if he never comes out, he will never die. Maybe...

"Knock knock." A nurse pokes her head in, a reassuring smile on her lips.

"Come in," Meredith croaks, wiping her cheek in a swift motion, hiding her tears.

"Someone is here to see you," she says, and when she enters, she's followed by Ellis.

Meredith stares at the somber expression on her mother's face, trying to remember any other time in her whole life she ever saw her mother look this sad. Ellis is unusually disheveled, and her professional and emotionless surgeon mask is cracked.

"Meredith," she says, her voice uncharacteristically gentle and soft.

The nurse leaves them be and, as Meredith stares at her mother, she can't help but burst into tears.

She is a failure. And a terrible person. She's a worse mother than her own mother, now. At least Ellis was able to keep her alive.

Her mother walks closer, wraps Meredith in her arms and holds her. Ellis rubs her back, her hair, whispers nonsense in her ear, but Meredith can only cry. She can find no comfort, not in her mother's arms, nor in her own head, so Meredith cries.

It's not ugly sobbing yet, she already did that when she first got the news. Now it's just eyes leaking, sniffling, and Meredith clutching her mother's shirt so tightly she's making permanent wrinkles in it.