Dreams on Fire

Fight Song

Meredith couldn't pinpoint the exact moment her world stopped. Was it when the knock came at the front door? Was it when she opened it to find two police officers there? Or was it when they told her there had been an accident? Or really, was it arriving in the dingy, forgotten medical center that had made it all connect in her brain and finally seem real to her? She might never know.

The two officers at her door had been extremely understanding and comforting as the woman in the doorway haunched over in deep sobs. They stepped inside and led her to the couch, one officer on either side of her, to tell her what had happened. One described to her the situation, that Derek had been a hero, before an on-coming truck slammed into him. He also told her that Derek was alive, critical but alive. They offered to take her to Dillard and she tried to calm down. The children were upstairs and she needed to calm down in order to wake them up and wrangle them into the back of a police car.

Meredith composed herself the best she could, before standing up from the couch and heading upstairs to the kids bedrooms. For the umpteenth time today, she wanted to puke. Halfway to Zola's room, she took a detour into one of the bathrooms to do just that. She knew what was wrong with her, but now with Derek potentially half dead, now was not the time. First she woke up Zola, stroking her back gently. When her daughter opened her eyes she smiled. "Hey baby girl, we have to go somewhere okay? We have to go visit daddy, I know it's late and you're sleepy, but you can sleep once you're there," she said, her voice warm and motherly, trying to mask how scared she was. Zola sat up and Meredith didn't do much, just picked her up out of her bed before going to get Bailey out of his crib. That was harder; he needed a diaper change, but within less than 15 minutes, both kids were out of bed with shoes and coats on and downstairs. Meredith grabbed her own coat and on second thought, grabbed the stroller for Bailey. She looked at the two cops as she handled the diaper bag, sighing heavily. "Let's go," she said, her brain thinking up all of the horrible possibilities and scenarios Derek could be in right now. She'd never even heard of this hospital he had been brought to, and that meant, according to her medical snobbery, it was a piece of crap, which worried her even more. She'd have him transferred to Grey-Sloan as soon as possible.

The ride to Dillard seemed to take forever. They seemed to hit every red light, plus this place seemed to be literally on the opposite side of Seattle, or 'in the sticks' as her mother would've called it. When they finally arrived and Meredith assessed the place, she shook her head. This was no place for Derek to be, if he had the injuries she had been told he had. She rushed out of the car, thanking the police officers for their kindles, plopping a sleeping Bailey into the stroller and dashing inside, Zola holding her hand. There was a social worker waiting for her, to watch the kids, and as she approached Derek's room in the ICU, a doctor approached her. "Mrs. Shepherd," she greeted her, Meredith's eyes wandering past her into Derek's room. "It's actually Dr. Grey," she corrected, somewhat harshly, but she just wanted to see Derek. "Oh, um, I'm sorry. Dr. Grey," she mousy resident fumbled. Dr. Blake, said her nametag. She hated the woman already. She fumbled too much, she didn't seem confident of herself, and Meredith needed a doctor who was confident. Meredith stared at her for a moment. "Well? What did you need to tell me? Because I need to be with my husband right now," she said, brushing past her and entering the room.

Meredith had seen patients in bad shape before. She had seen them in critical shape, she had seen them on the edge of dying. But nothing could have prepared her to see her husband in this shape. There were tubes and wires coming out of him everywhere. He was intubated, but she could tell he was breathing on his own around it, and knew it was just a precaution. He was bruised from head to toe, his head wrapped in a bandage from the surgery from his brain bleed, sutures all over his body. His right arm was broken, and Meredith could only imagine what else was broken. She noticed a cast poking out from the sheets on his left leg and wrinkled her nose. He was peacefully sleeping, knocked out from pain meds and in a medically induced coma. She picked up his chart and leafed through it, confirming her suspicions. Brain activity, great sinus rhythms, coded a few times but they had gotten him back. The induced coma and intubation were just so he had time to heal. But he was alive. Derek was here and alive.