19. Aftermath of bomb

It had been three days.

Three days since the bomb had gone off, turning two solid people into infinite pieces of matter, liquid and air. Three days since she had held that same bomb in her hands only moments before. Three days since she had almost died.

It had been three days, and Derek had barely left her side.

The OR floor was still out of operation, with crews working double time to ensure it would be up and running soon. Walls, floors and ceilings needed to be replaced. Every electrical outlet and connection needed to be checked. Every inch of surface area needed to be scrubbed down and disinfected.

Much of the surgical staff were given time off, or at very least put on a light schedule. Most post op patients were forced to remain at the hospitals they had been transferred to during the evacuation. If something went wrong in their recovery, Seattle Grace was not equipped to help them. Some of the Attendings and upper year residents were subbing in at the other hospitals, helping with the overflow of patients. Derek was not working anywhere this week.

Seattle Grace's surgical wing was quiet and nearly empty. All of the staff members in close vicinity of the bomb were required to attend a one hour therapy session. Meredith and Derek had both had theirs the day before. Derek had taken them in to the hospital. She had gone first, and had then wandered the eerily quiet halls waiting for him to finish. It had gone okay. She had known that nothing that day had been her fault, but it was still nice to hear the therapist say it. Yesterday hadn't been too bad.

Today had been horrible.

Today she and Derek had attended the memorial service for the two fallen members of the bomb squad. The chief had been there. And Cristina and Burke. And Hannah. And Mr. Carlson's wife and three kids. And the surviving members of Dylan's team. It had been surreal. She had cried.

She had felt numb the evening after the bomb had gone off, when Derek had held her in bed and she had fallen asleep in his arms. She had been more herself the next morning, but still numb to certain feelings. A few tears had been shed during her therapy session. But today she had sat beside Derek on the hard wooden chairs, clutching tightly to his hand, and she had cried. Silent tears had streamed down her face from beginning to end.

These men had saved her life. And now they were dead.

"You okay over there?" Derek called from across the car.

She turned to him and offered a gentle smile. "I don't know."

He turned his attention back to the road.

She sighed and reached her hand across the center consol to rest on his lower thigh, her thumb absently brushing along the dark fabric above his knee. He was still dressed in his black suit, and she couldn't help but think he was as handsome as ever. She had never seen him in a suit before. They had gotten dressed up and gone out to dinner a few times, but he had never worn a suit.

"It felt real today," she divulged after several moments of quiet.

"Hmm?" He glanced at her quickly.

"I feel like, all week, it's been...not real, like this is all a weird dream or something. But today it felt real. It really happened."

He nodded.

She sighed heavily, her energy deflating like a shrinking balloon. Her thumb stilled its ministrations. "I feel..."

"What?" He prompted gently.

She shook her head. "I'm not... I can't put my finger on it."

"Okay." He believed her. They reached the end of the road, and Derek got in line to board the ferry. It would only be a few minutes. His hand came down atop hers and rested comfortably, his fingers just curled around the edges of her palm.

They sat in gentle silence as they waited for the ferry to invite them on board. It would still be two days until they were expected back at work. They were going to spend some time out at the trailer. Meredith had suggested it, telling Derek it would give them some time alone. They hadn't had much of it recently. Her roommates had been hovering; worried that she was going to crack.

But really, she wanted it for more than the privacy. She wanted solitude, intimacy, comfort; all of which were offered by the trailer. She wanted to fall asleep with only the sound of him breathing beside her. She wanted to get out of her mother's house and feel like she could breathe again. She was choking in the shared house, feeling as if the walls were closing around her at every turn. But the paradoxical fact the trailer was much smaller than her house did nothing to dissuade her. The close quarters and expected close proximity with Derek was what she craved. She wanted to fall asleep in a room that no one else had ever shared before. She wanted to escape from the reality where she would have to return to the hospital, where she had watched two people blow up, in just a couple days.

The gate was opening, and Derek pulled his hand off of hers to put the car in gear. It was the middle of the afternoon, so the line of cars was relatively short. They parked near the front exit and he shut off the engine. "Do you want to stay here, or go up?"

She contemplated. "Let's go up."

"Okay." He exited the car, and pulled his coat from the back seat, donning it over his suit jacket. She followed suit, buttoning every button of the long coat she was wearing over her black blouse and skirt. She wrapped her scarf securely around her neck, and pulled on her mitts.

Derek met her on her side of the car, his breath exhaling small puffs of opaque air. It was cold. He took her hand and they climbed the two flights of stairs to the main deck. It was freezing. And windy. The strands of hair she had been unable to contain under her scarf flew in all directions. She staggered under a particularly strong gust.

His arm was securely around her waist in a moment. They wandered to the front of the ferry, looking out over the water together. She leaned against the railing, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands clutching to the same railing, anchoring them both in place. Despite the weather, she felt a gentle warmth spread through her heart. He rested his chin on her shoulder. "It's crappy out," he commented. Only very few other individuals had braved the weather enough to be out on the deck around them. The rest were safely in their cars or sitting in the closed areas, shaking their heads at those outside exposed to the elements.

She leaned back against his strong chest, her cheek rubbing against his. It was late in the day. His stubble was scratchy. And she wouldn't have it any other way. "Yeah," she agreed absently.

"Is this always what a Seattle winter is like?"

She smiled. It was easy to forget he wasn't used to this. "Yeah, pretty much. Though I haven't experienced it since I was five."

"Hmmpf. In New York it would get cold and it would snow. I'm not used to the cold rain. And I miss the snow."

She stroked his forearms. "I miss the snow too." Really, they had both grown up on the east coast.

He twisted his head and kissed her cheek. "You feeling okay?"

She breathed deeply and nodded. "Yeah, I am." It was freezing. And windy, the gusts reeking havoc on her hair. But it was making her feel alive. It was pulling her from her numbness. It was making her want to experience everything again. He was warm and he was there, his arms wrapped around her frame, steadying her in the strong wind, keeping her safe. She closed her eyes, feeling content and protected.

He grumbled something about the weather and she laughed. "Don't be a wuss."

"A wuss?" He sputtered. "That was uncalled for."

She shook her head and turned in his arms, her back meeting the railing as she pulled him in close, her arms snaking around his neck. "Sorry," she mumbled.

He narrowed his eyes. "You're not sorry..."

She rolled hers. "Whatever. Here," she pressed her lips against his, "Does that help."

He pretended to think about it, and then shook his head. "I'm not sure. Can you do it again so I can decide?" He tilted his head with a playful smirk.

She complied, capturing his lips in a long, breathtaking kiss that left them both gasping for air.

He pressed his forehead against hers and breathed. "That definitely helps," he whispered.

She closed her eyes and held him tightly, her lithe fingers gripping at the thick fabric of his heavy coat. "Me too."

"Hmm?"

"It helps me too," she clarified.

He pulled back far enough to meet her eyes. "You are doing okay, right?"

She couldn't help but smile at his worried tone. "I am," she reassured. "Because of you, Derek, I'm doing fine."

His face lit up at her words. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He kissed her softly. "I love you so much."

"I love you too."

000

It was dark when Derek pulled the car up to the trailer. He silently stepped out of the driver's seat and pulled their shared bag out of the trunk. He didn't have a lot of clothes left at the trailer anymore. And she didn't have any. He met her at the passenger door and led her inside.

It was warmer in the trailer than it was outside, but it was still cold. Derek didn't come out here very often. The heat wasn't left on when it wasn't being used.

"Sorry about the temperature," he offered as he turned up the small thermostat.

She smirked. "At least with its small size it heats up fast..."

He met her eyes and gently rolled his. "Ah, making fun of the trailer already..."

She laughed, her hands latching onto the fabric of his jacket along his side. "You know I love the trailer."

He mirrored her position, his arms around hers as he found her hips. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah. It's nice out here. Quiet. Calm. No roommates."

"Peaceful," he added.

"Exactly." She pressed her lips against his for several seconds. "I love you."

"I love you too." He pecked her lips again.

She leaned her forehead against his chin and breathed, feeling completely safe for the first time in three days. "I imagined you there with me," she told him quietly.

"Hmm?" His hand left her hip to rub along her spine.

"Before the bomb went off, I had to pull it out of the patient. And I was scared, and Dylan told me to imagine he was someone I liked..." Her voice cracked. "And all I could do was picture you...standing there with me. It was like the rest of the world fell away, because you were there. And you were smiling at me. And you told me I could do it." She swallowed hard. "And I believed you."

"Oh, Mer..." He closed both arms around her, holding her tight. "I would have been there with you if I could have...if I'd known..."

She shook her head against his chest. "No. I wouldn't have wanted you there."

"Mer-"

"No," she repeated. "I couldn't have handled it. Burke sent Cristina out of the room. And I completely understood. I would have been out of my mind if you had been there. Hell, I would have freaked out if I had known you were still on the floor."

"I didn't know you were on the floor either," he said quietly. "I thought you were safe and far away. If they had told me, I would have demanded you be ordered away long before you had a chance to put your hand on that bomb."

"When did you find out?"

He sighed. "Cristina came back in after you moved to the new OR. She was upset, and told me. And then Tucker crashed before I had a chance to do anything."

"There was nothing you could have done."

"I could have been there."

"Derek..."

"No," he shook his head and pulled away to meet her eyes. "Do you have any idea how much it kills me to know you went through that by yourself? Even if you had to be the one with the bomb, I could have been there. I could have held your hand. I could have...been there."

She smiled sadly at him. "You were there," she said gently.

He sniffed and pressed his forehead against hers.

She shivered and pulled closer to him.

"It'll be warmer soon," he told her lightly, changing the subject, challenging her to bring up her previous comment.

She looked up and met his playful eyes, hers narrowing as she smirked. "Why don't we work on making it warmer..?" She hooked her fingers under shirt collar, pulling his lips down to hers again.

He responded immediately, his hands finding the small of her back. "Mer..." He said when he finally pulled away, breathless. "Mer, are you...?"

The love and worry she found staring down at her made her eyes well as she nodded. "I'm sure."

One large hand left her back and slipped under her blouse, coming to rest against her chest, his fingers splaying for maximum contact. "I don't want to hurt you." Meredith had woken up the day after the bomb feeling like she had been hit by a bus, which wasn't far from the truth. Her head had throbbed from its impact against the hard floor. Her ribs had cried out in protest about being asked to support her body again so soon after being hit by the force of the blast. Her arms and legs had been sore, having flailed violently when she had been thrown off her feet like a rag doll. Just walking had been a chore that first day. And Derek hadn't asked for anything else.

Meredith offered him a reassuring smile, her hand coming to rest over his, pressing his warmth into her skin. "You could never hurt me, Derek."

His expression softened. His free hand cupped her cheek. "I'm so glad you're here with me," he whispered.

Her eyes filled with tears, his comment hitting her on so many levels. "There's nowhere I'd rather be." She needed this. He needed it.

His head tilted as the corners of his lips inched upwards, and suddenly she was receiving a full blown McDreamy smile, and she was wishing his hands were still supporting her back because it was making her knees weak. She turned for the bedroom, pulling him behind her. "Come on, Derek, make me feel alive..."

AN: I'm having a conundrum regarding the next chapter, revolving around 2.18 (where Mer goes to visit her dad). I have two different versions on the go...and I don't know which way to take it. Fluffy version or angsty version? They've been really in tune with each other for a while now, and will be through the end of season 2, so I love the happy, Derek completely there for Mer version. But I am drawn to, and originally was writing towards, the angsty version, where Der is a little preoccupied... Opinions?