more anything: grey's anatomy oneshots

"the fifth floor"

~set after the grey's season 4 finale, roughly around the first couple episodes of season 5~

Dr. Wyatt never fails to set my mind reeling. "It's not just about being happy," she said. What does that even mean? I press the elevator button, puzzling over everything we'd discussed as I wait to head back down to work. She said, "It's not about being happy. It's about more than that." I thought the whole point of therapy was to be happy? To be good, to be fine? And not my version of fine, but actually fine, as in really being okay. The elevator arrives, and I step on, alone in the space as the doors close and it begins to descend. What does she mean? Wasn't I doing this to try and be okay with- well, at first I was doing it to try to be okay with him and Rose, to try to get over him. But now, we're happy and together. So shouldn't that mean we've been successful? Shouldn't that mean I'm done? I'm happy, isn't that the point?

The elevator ding snaps me out of my rambling thoughts. The door opens to the fourth floor, and speak of the devil.

"Hey!" Derek greets me warmly, stepping into the elevator car. "How's your day going?"

I try to drag my mind from my session with Dr. Wyatt and force a light smile. "It's going okay; how about yours?"

"Pretty good. I have a consult in the pit, then a craniotomy later. Maybe if you're free you can scrub in?"

"I'd love to, but I'm with Bailey today, so I can't," I reply, slightly disappointed, but still distracted by Dr. Wyatt's words. What is the point, if the point isn't to be happy? What is she talking about?

"A psych patient? That must be an interesting case; you'll have to tell me about it later. Maybe we'll grab dinner somewhere?"

"Hmm?" I look up at him, confused, half deep in my thoughts, half present in our conversation.

"Dinner," he deadpans. "It's a meal people usually eat in the evenings... you and I do it together sometimes?" A smirk lights his features, but it fades when I fail to match his humor.

I'm lost as to why he's talking about dinner, having completely missed his original invitation. I can't tear my mind away from my conversation with Dr. Wyatt. "Yeah, I know what dinner is... What about it?" I ask. I was happy, which I thought was the goal, but now Dr. Wyatt's got me all confused and overthinking, and I'm gonna end up freaking Derek out because I'm being weird, and-

"I asked if you wanted to go to dinner later? You can tell me about your psych patient? If Bailey is holding on to you all day, it must be an interesting case."

His words finally begin to register. He thinks I have a patient in psych. He got on the elevator on the fourth floor, and I was already coming down, so he figured that I must've been on the fifth floor... the psych floor... Which I was, but not for a patient. Well, yes, for a patient... me. I am the patient. The psych patient.

I attempt to snap out of it and pull myself together. "Oh, dinner, gotcha. I must've misheard you, or whatever. Yes. Dinner. Sounds good! I'll meet you in the lobby?"

Derek gazes at me, a bit of concern creeping into his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I fib. Crap! That damn word! He hates when I say I'm fine. And at this point, it's a dead giveaway that I'm anything but. Dammit. Now he's gonna worry, and things are gonna be weird, and now I'm definitely making things even worse with this awkward silence... The elevator dings for the second floor, interrupting my internal self criticism.