Aftermath

Part 10

It was around 6:00 the next morning when I heard a soft knock at the front door of the house. I put down one of my mother's journal I was reading and stepped into the foyer to see who it could be. Through the glass door, I was faced with April Kepner. She looked a mess, and she had a large duffel bad hanging on her shoulder. Her eyes locked with mine and they looked sad and begging. I quickly went to open the door.

"Can I stay here?" She asked quietly. 

I was shocked for a minute, realizing that the duffel bag must have her clothes in it. I quickly opened the door wider and stepped aside so she could come in. She walked into the foyer and I closed the door behind her. 

"There's and extra room upstairs, I'll show you," I offered, walking upstairs and opening the door to what used to be Izzie's bedroom. Jackson and Lexie already occupied the other two bedrooms besides the master I shared with Derek.

"Thank you," April said sincerely stepping into the room and throwing her bag down on the bed.

"Of course," I responded, closing the door behind her and heading back downstairs, hoping I didn't wake anyone else up. 

I sat back down on the couch, not bothering to pick up the journal I was reading, it wasn't like I could focus on it anyway. 

I heard soft voices floating down the stairs about two hours later. Lexie and Derek. I must have zoned out for a minute, because the next thing I knew my husband and sister were standing in the doorway of the living room, staring at me.

"You didn't come back to bed," Derek observed softly.

"I knew I wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep. And I didn't want to bother you," I responded, standing up from my cozy spot on the couch. 

Derek rolled his eyes and sighed, "Will you stop worrying about me, Meredith? Look at you!"

"Stop worrying about you? Stop worrying about you? That's all I ever do, Derek! That's it! Constantly, you are all I can think about!" I raised my voice.

Lexie cast me an awkward glance and backed away into the kitchen. Derek crossed the living room so he stood about a foot in front of me.

"I'm okay. I told you, I'm okay,"

"Not in my mind! You will never be okay in my mind, you took a bullet to the chest for gods sake!"

He took a stepped forward and pulled me towards him, kissing me. After a moment his lips left mine, but we rested out foreheads on each other. 

"I survived it, and I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere," He assured me.

"You didn't know you were going to get shot. You don't know what's going to happen. You could've died, I could've lost you. I don't know what's going to happen, and I can't...I just, I can't,"

"You have PTSD, last night proved it. And that's okay, you went through something terrible, something no one should ever have to go through,"

He didn't know the half of what I had gone through. What I was going through. He couldn't know, there was no way I could tell him about the baby. It would destroy him like it was destroying me. 

"We can take care of each other. We're going to be fine," He whispered, pulling me into a hug. 

"I'm exhausted," I admitted, my voice barley audible. 

"I know. You need to eat and sleep."

"But I can't. It's impossible for me to sleep peacefully."

"Let me help you," he requested. His tone told me it wasn't a demand, but he was asking me, honestly. 

"How can you help me? You were the one who was shot, I'm supposed to be helping you,"