Aftermath

Part 13

Five weeks.

It had been five whole weeks since the shooting. 

Everything was different. I couldn't explain it, but everyone acted...off. The demeanor at the hospital had changed. I didn't like it, but it was just one of those things I guess I would have to get used to.

For the past two weeks, Derek had been doing physical therapy along with Alex. Today, Derek could do consults and light work around the hospital. No operating yet for him, just like me. Alex on the other hand had been cleared today, a week after he returned to work.

I was so pissed, Perkins was a complete idiot. I had tried the fake tears and crying, I had tried multiple times going to the chief to clear me over Perkins' head, but nothing seemed to work. 

Cristina's wedding was in a week. It was at my house, all our friends from the hospital were invited. I had worked out caterers and decorations. Nothing fancy, but it wasn't like I didn't have a ton of free time since I couldn't do surgery. 

Physically I was ready to have sex. I had gone to the OB who did my D&C for a follow up earlier today, and she said everything looked good. Derek was at the hospital now, and we both had a lot of free time. 

It's really sad how often I think about having sex with my husband in an on-call room at work. Not like I have anything better to do. Before today I didn't have the option because Derek only came in for physical therapy and left. Now he was here, working. I don't know what exactly he thought about having sex again, but it had been over a month. 

Now I had to go see Perkins yet again. Hopefully today will be the day he finally clears me. I'm not getting my hopes up though, I think that guy hates me. 

Derek's POV

I sat on a bed in an empty on call room, raking my fingers through my wet hair. I had finished physical therapy about twenty minutes ago and taken a shower afterwards. Meredith was right, the hospital was different now. We didn't have a steady flow of patients coming in like we did before and there was a different aurora hanging over Seattle Grace.

Five weeks. Just over one month. I was starting work again. I really needed to call my mother and tell her what had happened. Carolyn Shepherd would spread the news to the whole family, and they would end up all wanting to come down and visit. Meredith would hate that, she wasn't comfortable with my family yet. 

Speaking of Meredith, something was different about her as well. My wife was constantly on my mind, and as I laid back on the bed to gaze at the ceiling, I went through everything I had seen with her since the shooting. 

She was always in my hospital room next to me, awake, as if waiting for me to get up. Then there had been that one time the threw up and collapsed a day or two after the shooting. She told me it was just dehydration and sleep deprivation, but I didn't entirely believe her. 

Almost every night she woke up screaming in a panic after a nightmare. It killed me to watch her have PTSD attacks, and I did my best to be there for her, but there was something she wasn't telling me. Something was off. She carried herself differently, something in her eyes had changed, even when she laughed. 

She was vigilant in watching over and taking care of me, not that I needed it, but I was grateful. I had walked in on her sobbing in the bathroom when she thought she was alone, and every time I brought it up she left or changed the subject. 

My thoughts were interrupted by my phone going off on the table next to me.

Reminder: Call Mom