𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 ━━ 𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐝

sixty seven | talk

"How was the wedding?"

"Oh, it was fantastic. So sorry you weren't there for it."

"Yeah, well, I was busy getting an incarceration record. Do you know what that means?"

Arms on either side prohibit me from exiting the elevator, forcing me to be in an enclosed space with my husband.

"Of course I do. It means you have no regard for others or yourself on the road. It means you're a danger behind the wheel. It means — do you have any idea what you smell like?"

"Yeah, I know what I smell like." He grimaces at his own state.

An expression of disgust grows on my face. "I have to go to the pit and do consults."

The moment the doors open, Derek attempts to embrace me. I squeal instinctively and stumble away from me.

"Can't leave the patients waiting for me. I'll see you later."

"We're not done talking about this."

"We are until you shower. Twice."

The pit is less than chaotic with eight victims resulting from a single lightning strike to a flag football team.

And as the last to arrive and no cases left, I've been placed on messenger duty.

"I almost told her. I tried to." Mitch halts between the two gurneys. "I-I'm gonna tell her."

"What are you talking about?" Warren narrows his brows.

"Kerry. I tried to tell her I-I loved her, but her-her ears are all messed up, and —"

"Ah!"

Alex steps off the stool when Warren struggles to push himself out of bed. "Woah, woah, woah. You gotta sit down."

"Where are you going?"

"I gotta tell her. I get to tell her."

"Guys, guys. Look. Leave her alone. Alright? She could've died out there." Russ dangles his legs off the edge. "And besides. . .she's, like, mine."

The three move closer to Kerry's trauma room all the while nudging each other. Before Alex and I can stop them, they've already barged inside.

"Everybody, shut up. Shut up." Kerry enunciates in a hoarse voice. "Okay, Warren. You talk."

"Kerry, I. . ."

Eyes roll to the back of his head, his legs give out, and blood pours out of his mouth like a faucet.

"Have you talked to Derek yet about the. . ."

"Of course she hasn't. He just got out of the joint. She's letting him ease back into society."

Cristina cackles to herself as we walk down the hallway.

I turn to the two of them. "I haven't told him yet because I haven't the time to, alright? The pit's been busy with. . .junior high drama."

As multiple surgeries take place simultaneously, Meredith and I are drawn to one in particular.

"You can't be in here!" April yelps in surprise. "But we're all friends now, so I'll just shut up."

"Good girl."

"You're finally learning."

The both of us cover the bottom halves of our faces with masks, leaving them untied at the ends so as to get to her faster.

"Cristina? Cristina."

We lower ourselves to where she lays across the ground, a distant look hazing her eyes.

"I can't be in here." She breathes out. "I can't."

"Okay, so let's go. Let's get out of here." Meredith suggests.

"I can't-I can't feel anything."

"It's okay. I promise, it's okay."

"Come with us."

"No. I-I can't move." Her voice quivers. "I can't move my legs. I can't. . .I can't feel anything." Sobs take the place of whimpers.

"Here, take my hand, okay? Just take my hand, Cristina." I slip the glove off her right hand and shove the robes further up her arm. "Can you feel that?"

Her erratic breathing lessens. "Uh-huh. Uh. . ."

"Good. That's good."

"We're gonna go when you're ready, okay? Okay. You tell us when you're ready."

It takes a few minutes, but Cristina's finally ready to walk out. As promised, the three of us walk out of the O.R. and into the residents lounge.

Owen enters the moment the surgery's over.

"Is she dead?"

"She's fine. She'll be fine."

Cristina releases a breath and looks towards us silently. I tug Meredith's arm, signaling to her that the two want some time alone.

"You have to talk to Derek, Leven."

"I'll talk to him over dinner tonight."

The neurosurgeon turns the corner, and upon seeing me, his pace only quickens.

"Or you can talk to him now." And Meredith strays off to the side.

"Hey, I heard about Cristina. Is she alright?"

"Of course not. Of course she's not alright. No one's been alright since the shooting. And Dr. Perkins is just signing clearance forms like he's Oprah because he thinks they're fine, but they're not fine."

"Leven, I need to talk to you."

"Derek, can't you just let it go? I left you in jail for one night to teach you a lesson about driving too fast so forget about it!"

Derek circles an arm around my waist and drags me through the closest door — a supply closet.

"You were right to do that, so don't worry about it." He mutters to me calmly.

I drum my palms against his chest as heavy tears fall. "How can I not worry about it if it's all I ever do? I left you in that holding cell so I could spend some time for once not worrying about receiving a phone call that you died because you wrapped your car around a pole. Every time you pull out of the driveway, I think about how it could be the last time I see you alive."

"Hey, hey. I'm right here." He clasps my wrists to stop me. "My heart is still beating — a little faster than normal because you're near. So I'm okay. But you. . .you're not."

"Derek —"

"You're the one who nearly died on that table, Leven." His baby blues glisten with his own fresh set of tears.

"But I'm alive, aren't I?"

"Yes. But I have no control over who dies or not. I'm not God."

"You're talking crap —"

"But I do have control over the steering wheel. And the gas pedal."

A sad smile spreads across my cheeks. "I was pregnant."

". . .what?"

"A couple days before the shooting, I'd taken a pregnancy test at Meredith's. And I was going to tell you the day of the shooting, but. . .I couldn't exactly do that while I was unconscious."

He cups my cheek in his right hand. "Lev. . .why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Because you've been endangering yourself and others by driving recklessly!" I remind him of the reason for my anger.

"I could have helped you."

"Like you said. You have control over the steering wheel, the gas pedal, the vehicle. Control yourself safely."

He presses one, two, three kisses to my lips before tugging me into his open arms and quietly murmuring apologies into my neck.

"You can't make me a widow so young."

"I won't."