𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗘, greys anatomy

drawn to the blood.

ch 15. drawn to the blood.

Meredith lets herself into the loft, not at all surprised to see charlotte laying still on the couch. "hey, charlie."

charlotte makes no move to respond. her body felt heavy, her mind far too full to focus on forming a response anyways. nevertheless, the concerned doctor lowers herself into a chair beside the couch, picks up a nearby remote, and clicks on the television. charlotte groans. "what is your problem?" all the teen wanted was to be left alone; preferably in dead silence.

"why don't you go take a shower? you don't have to go anywhere." meredith suggests, ignoring the teens slight outburst.

"i don't need you to fix me." charlotte had never been a fan of attention, even when those giving it were only just trying to help. she believed in doing everything on her own, no matter how hard that may be.

"i'm not trying to fix you."

"right." charlotte scoffs dryly, "you're here because you're too scared to deal with your own crap so you bury your head in medicine or everyone else's lives."

"maybe the tiniest part of me is hiding out here 'cause it's easier than facing andrew." meredith shrugs.

"because he loves you?"

"because he said he loved me. to my
face. out loud. and all that love staring me in the face is terrifying," meredith admits. "but that doesn't mean that i'm not mostly here for you."

"i don't need you to be here for me." charlotte responds numbly. "go home, meredith. i'm not asking."

"i'm staying here until you talk to me." meredith insists.

"i just did."

meredith rolls her eyes at the teens sarcasm. "charlie—"

"you come here, you help yourself to my bed—"

"it's a couch, charlie. if you're just gonna sleep all day, at least come to my house and do it in a bed. or even just in jo and alex's."

"they have sex in that bed."

"char—"

"no." charlotte sits up abruptly, turning to look at the doctor, "you come here, you flop onto my couch and complain about all this love, and you think that somehow that's gonna help me?"

"my husband died. let's be clear." meredith explains, "the 'i love you' scares me because the last person i said it to was derek. i'm not a delicate flower. i'm not a person who doesn't understand pain. i get it from deep experience. plus, my parents — they screwed with my head in more ways that i can count. alex's parents, too, so there isn't anything that we can't handle or that we wouldn't understand."

charlotte takes a shaky breath before snapping back, "was your mother raped? was your mother raped by your father? is that why you exist? do you look like a rapist? do you wear his face?"

meredith looks sadly at the broken teen beside her, at a loss for words.

"okay, then. i don't think you do get this. so please, go. home." charlotte lays back down and closes her eyes.