what i'm here for

Chapter 13: Welcome home

"That'll be seventeen eighty," the cab driver said, pulling Derek from his thoughts. He was surprised to look out the window and find himself in Meredith's driveway. He hadn't even noticed. He pulled out his wallet and handed the driver a twenty, muttering for him to keep the change. Opening the door, he stepped out of the cab and made his way up to the front door. After stalking potential cases in the ER for over an hour, he managed to take a simple craniotomy off a resident. By the time he had finished the surgery there had been absolutely nothing to keep him at the hospital. There were no patients. He had been unable to find Izzy or Alex, and was stuck cabbing it home.

His key turned easily in the lock as he let himself in, making to go straight up the stairs, but heard a noise in the kitchen. He made a slight detour, bypassing the stairs and pushing open the door. He was greeted with the not-so-unfamiliar sight of Izzy hard at work in the kitchen, the counter tops already piled high with a variety of baked goods. In the relatively short time he had spent residing in the busy home, he had experienced this phenomenon many times.

"Dr. Shepherd!" She exclaimed as she jumped at his presence. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he shrugged. "I just got home from the hospital. Heard a noise..." He trailed off, hoping that was explanation enough.

Izzy smiled. "I'm baking," she stated.

It was Derek's turn to smile. "I noticed." He hesitated, not able to fully discern the boundaries of his place in this home. "Everything okay?" He asked lightly.

She shrugged. "I'm just off. I'm working through some things."
Derek nodded. "I know the feeling. It hasn't been easy lately, on anyone."

Izzy nodded her agreement and they both sighed.

"Did you want a muffin? Or a cupcake maybe? And if you want to wait, I have a cake in the oven. It should be ready in ten minutes."

Derek laughed. "No thanks. I'm not all that hungry."

"Okay, now it's my turn. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Izzy smiled. "See, now that's Meredith rubbing off on you. You're obviously not fine."

He nodded his agreement, unable to hide his smile at Izzy's conclusion that he was starting to absorb one of his girlfriend's traits, regardless of which one it was. "I'm just tired. It's been a tough week."

She nodded. "Okay."

He motioned to the door of the kitchen. "So, I'm going to go get some sleep."

"Meredith's not here," Izzy added as he turned to leave.

Derek turned back at the door. "I know. She called while I was in surgery, left a message. She's with Cristina, at her apartment. Burke, uh, Burke was gone before Cristina even got there. Took his stuff and disappeared."

"Oh, my God," Izzy muttered. "Poor Cristina."

Derek nodded his agreement.

Then Izzy turned a questioning gaze to him. "So you knew she wasn't going to be here, but you came anyway?"

Derek nodded, suddenly unsure of himself and his very presence in the house. He never really knew where he sat with the interns; Meredith's friends, her family. "Uh, yeah, I did, but I can go if you're uncomfortable..."

But Izzy was shaking her head. "No, don't go. I didn't mean it that way at all. I guess I just hadn't realized we'd officially gotten a new roommate." She was smiling.

Derek hesitated. He hadn't had this conversation with Meredith yet, and here he was having it with Izzy. "Oh, well, we really haven't made anything official." He stuttered. "Plus, I couldn't go to the trailer, cause Mer has my car." He offered as an excuse, but it didn't matter. Izzy was still smiling that smile at him.

"Sure," she said, and he thought she was going to let it go as he bid a quick goodnight and made for the door. "Dr. Shepherd," she called to him, and he paused, palm resting against the door.

He turned his head, leaving his hand resting against the cool wood of the door, his escape route. "Yeah?"

She smiled at him. "Welcome home."

He sucked in a breath as the words, and subsequent meanings behind them, entered his brain. His throat dried and he didn't even bother attempting to form words. He simply nodded to Izzy and pushed through the door, quickly making his way up the stairs and into the familiar room down the hall.

It wasn't until he stood alone in the room, safely on his own side of the door before he registered the unfamiliar prickling sensation behind his eyes. Blinking furiously, he swallowed hard, determined not to allow his emotions to get the better of him. Everything was okay, he kept reminding himself. Everything was okay. And it would keep being okay.

Having effectively fought off the actual downfall of tears, he made his way into the bathroom, stopping to stare at his reflection through watery eyes, causing a slightly distorted visual of himself. He scoffed at the reflection. Right now, he looked how he felt. Fuzzy, numb and not quite himself. If he was completely honest, he'd add in some other adjectives, but he wouldn't let his mind go that far. Right now fuzzy and numb were good. He could cope with fuzzy and numb.

Sighing, he went and brushed his teeth, vaguely wondering how long his and Meredith's toothbrushes had shared a cup. It was a nice cup too. He liked it. It was simple, blue, ceramic. Probably bought on a whim. Probably not worth much. But he liked it. Because it was simple, and blue and matched her toothbrush. It was nothing like the bathroom set he had used in New York. The overly expensive pink set Addison had ordered from a catalogue that were porcelain and breakable. This was nice; blue and mismatching with the soap tray and ceramic. And yes, it would probably break if it were to be knocked off the shelf, but that would be okay. It would be cleaned up and anther cheap cup would be purchased as its replacement. But he hoped the cup wouldn't be broken, because it was cheap and blue and mismatching, and he liked it. He wondered why he hadn't noticed before.

And then there was the toothpaste thing. He had been very particular his whole life. He liked certain things the way he liked them. He didn't always like change. He had been using the same brand of toothpaste, the same flavour, since he was fourteen. Up until the last few months, that was. Now he used whatever was in the bathroom, without blinking an eye. When had that happened? Why hadn't he noticed? As he read the name on the label of the tube, he shook his head, knowing he would have balked at the brand if it had ever appeared in his bathroom in New York.

He spit out the remaining toothpaste and rinsed his mouth, wiping his damp face on the towel hanging beside the sink. A single towel; which was meant for actually using to dry oneself. Not some fancy, expensive decorative towel that he wasn't allowed to touch. He smiled. How life had changed.

After relieving himself at the toilet, he re-entered the bedroom, stripping down to his boxers and pulling an old tee shirt out of one of the drawers. It was rumpled, having been barely folded and shoved unceremoniously into the drawer by either one of them following the last load of laundry. It hadn't been ironed and folded and placed into its correct, assigned position in a large vanity closet by a maid. It was tee shirt for crying out loud. It was rumpled and came out of a drawer with other tees, pants and for some odd reason, a scarf and mitts. And he loved it.

He donned the tee, and crawled under the covers, sighing as he let his weight rest down on the mattress for a few moments, barely moving. Then he rolled over, facing Meredith's side of the bed and pulled her pillow into his chest, wrapping his arms around it, hugging it to himself tightly. It was only then, in the protective darkness of the room that he allowed himself to give in to the stinging behind his eyes, to give in to the hopelessness he felt, the fear and dread that filled his mind. He drew a deep breath, hugging the pillow even closer. Everything was okay.

Everything is okay.

Everything will be okay.

He closed his eyes tightly, revelling in her scent on the pillow. Revelling in all the memories surrounding him in this room. The room that may just be the first place he'd ever really felt at home. He loved every nuance, every dent in the wall, every item of clothing mixed with another. He felt like himself here, like he could be himself without worrying. He felt like he actually had a life, a real life. One that he could hold onto. Everything was okay.

Everything will be okay.

Everything will be okay.

Everything will be okay.