Nobody Knows

Am I anyone's friend still?

2009-03-22T02:32:31Z

If so, and you are reading this, then you get to read a missing scene from Thursday's show. If it sucks, blame morgenwrites . Because she's the one that put this in my brain. If it doesn't suck. . .let me know, because then I may have good news for you.

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

(I stole someone else's disclaimer. Is that plagiarism?)

Crap.

Seriously, there was no other word. Because of course, Izzie’s enema ended up not being an enema, just like George knew, but ended up being melanoma with mets to brain and liver. And they weren’t talking odds, not to Izzie and not even to each other.

But the odds? Sucked.

And the best brain surgeon on this side of the country was. . .where?

Meredith didn’t know. Well, she knew he was at the trailer, next to where she had built that (stupid, stupid) house of candles. Drunk still, those odds were pretty damn good. But where he was was a mystery. He was lost somewhere inside himself, somewhere she’d been, like when he was working on his marriage. And she hadn’t been just drunk, all too often it had been with some stranger’s body over hers, lit by scattered moon shadows in her bed. No, she knew where her dark place was (and funny, she hadn’t been there when she’d been forced to see him with Rose) but where did Derek go when he was so hurt and coiled and as dangerous as a hissing snake?

She didn’t know.

He’d said things. Nasty, mean, hateful things that found their targets. And she knew he said them because he was hurting, because he was questioning the right thing for him to do, but dammit, they still hurt. And you’d better bet that the new, improved Meredith was going to let him know that they were pissy, nasty things to say, and he damn well shouldn’t have said them. She absolutely would.

Maybe.

If they were still together.

She sighed, and pulled the scans down from the lightboard, slid them into their folder. Her hands shook a little bit as one corner caught against the thick paper. She needed Derek, needed him to be at the hospital, needed him to be the man he was, and take out those horrible alien pieces from her friend’s brain. He said he wasn’t coming back, but if he didn’t? He was giving Izzie, Izzie and so many others a death sentence. If he didn’t come back, people would die, because he operated on people with scans like these, that other doctors looked at, shook their heads and told the patients to go home. Go home and enjoy as much as they could, make sure their wills were in order and be sure to pick a nice hospice. Derek wasn’t like that—he fought, and he won more often than he had any right to win. Because that’s who he was, he was the one person she knew who tried to do the right thing.

Screwed it up, more often than not, but at least he tried. And that was something.

She stood there, leaning against the wall, holding the scans. George and Alex were ten steps away, waiting for her to come out and give them her opinion. She didn’t want to, not yet, not when what she had seen was so scary that all she wanted was. . .

Her eyes closed. And then her phone buzzed, jarring her out of the moment of almost peace she had stolen. Without even looking, she answered.

“Meredith Grey.”

“Mer . . .”

She caught her breath. Her stomach did another lurch. His voice sounded so broken, as if he’d yelled at a few more people since batting his mother’s (her) ring into the woods.

“Derek. Are you. . .do you. . .” And she trailed off, because what do you say when trying to close that kind of wound?

“Meredith, I don’t. . .please, will you come back here?”

She closed her eyes and saw the trailer again, the ring sparkling through the air, the bat tossed in her direction and the ugly nasty look. Heard him telling her to go, just go, that she wanted to go, and the memory lanced through her gut.

And now he was asking her to come back. She took a deep breath, held it, then blew it out.

“I’ll be there.”

um. . .

2009-03-13T02:03:33Z

What happened to "it's not a brain tumor"--does mets to brain not count?

Stray's Anatomy

2009-02-20T03:51:31Z

Today I was at a conference on medical collections (that's what I do now, instead of the SAHM game), and I saw someone wearing this set of scrubs.

found here

How cool is that? Better than tonight's show, that's for sure.

Midnight Hour

2008-11-22T05:10:34Z

I haven't read everything everyone's written about this, but I haven't noticed anyone else pointing out

Cristina got the solo as she was saving Sadie. Bailey treated it like the solo for both Cristina and Mer. I guess that makes it more of a duet than a solo, but still.

And since people are taking sides on Owen, I vote yes. And of course, since I'd at least like the show to keep its left pinkie toe in reality-based drama rather than Bobby-in-the-shower. . .I give Denny ONE more scene before I pull the plug. I'm already at the point that I watch the show on Friday night rather than live because I have too much else to do.

Sadie needs to go. She needs to go to their locked unit for a 72 hour hold/Baker Act. Seriously, that chick makes Izzie look sane. And Izzie's the one who is having a nervous breakdown. Someone wrote in a fic that Izzie dropped the program and became a kindegarten teacher, and that's just about right.

Lexie being in love with George, and George not getting it? Have people pointed out the parallel between that and George being in love with Big Grey, and not being able to tell her? So where does George get off spouting about people should tell people?

On the personal front, I realize that I have not yet finished Sounds as promised, but I am writing. Which. . .considering everything else that has changed on the personal front is pretty amazing. So it might be 2010 before it gets finished, but it will be.

And when I talk about therapy, you know what people think?

2008-05-28T04:18:53Z

This summer, I'm finishing last summer's fic. I was stalled, not only by my Drama in Real Life (which, btw, is still IN PROCESS, and don't get me started. . .this is my happy place), but because Shonda & Co started stealing my ideas. Yeah, they did. Callie was always going to move in with Cristina. Okay, there was no Thorny Shrub in mine, because even I couldn't make McDreamy that much of a McDumbass. But tell me--where did you read about Mer in therapy first? That's right. And the Mark/Derek BFF? Okay, everyone did that last summer, but still.

AND can I just say that in the candle-house scene, when Mer is calling herself 9-kinds of idiot for showing up there? Totally reminded you of when I had her wake up on the trailer steps all muddy, didn't it? Well it did me.

So.

Watch this space.

Oh, The Drama

2007-10-06T17:39:50Z

I went out of town for three weeks. I've been back for two. And haven't written a word. Heck, I haven't even managed to watch GA when broadcast, at least not in full. No, that's not like me. Yes, something is up.

My husband and I are separating, and I see little possibility for reconciliation. This is scary for me, but I'm pretty sure it's the right move. I hope. Meanwhile, fics are taking the back burner. . .unless one could show me how to make money from it.

On the road, or why it's taking so long to get anything written. . .

2007-09-03T14:31:20Z

Going on three week road trip to learn about the Revolutionary War. If this sounds horrifying or interesting, you can read about it here.

Three week field trip

2007-08-27T21:36:56Z

First thing about me: I'm a homeschool mom. My daughter is what's called twice-exceptional in educational-ese. She's been diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome but has a very high intelligence. (Thus sayeth her mommy. But really, we're doing 3rd grade math, she taught herself to read by 2.5 years, she has near eidetic memory. . .so yes, thus I sayeth.) She's not a great fit for traditional schooling. So, we homeschool.

While I'm not one of those homeschoolers who insists that traditional schooling should be the last choice for everyone, I do think that most of the people who say "I could never homeschool" actually could. I said it, after all, and so did my cousin, until she pulled her son out of school 18 months ago.

Anyway, my cousin and I are leaving Saturday for a 3 week field trip. If you ever wondered what a 1600 mile trip with two moms, five children in one minivan would be like, we're going to blog the trip. Be a doll and comment there as well.

We the Mommies

Canonical questions

2007-08-18T22:59:17Z

First, a gripe or a request. It's not really about the comments, except that it is about the comments. I don't really care if what I write gets commented or reviewed by tons of people, as the people who are commenting are quality peeps. So it isn't about the numbers. But if no one is reading Sounds on the ga_fanfic community, then I might as well not post it, right? It's sort of a PITA to get it up there, as I think the LJ programmers are on crack. So when I post a chapter and it goes a long time and there's not a single comment, I wonder if I shouldn't take back the 15 minutes it takes me to post something here. (And considering that we're on chapter 24. . .that's 6 hours of time I could have been reading trashy novels or soaking in the bathtub.) And since I don't know how to get a hit count or anything, I can't tell if anyone's looking.

Did Cristina have a left or right fallopian tube removed? I was wondering, and went to see, and the board says that it is a right salpingo-oophorectomy. Bailey tells her it's the left tube. So now I get to choose. (And did they save the ovary? Because those eggs, they are sneaky and could float over to the other tube. It's possible. You can have one ovary removed, the other tube removed and still catch pregnant. Just in case you wanted to know.

Finally, have we seen Derek tell Meredith that he loves her since S3, Ep 1? I've seen people mention that she hasn't told him she loves him since the "pick me, choose me" speech. Of course, it would have been really inappropriate for her to say that during the rest of season 2. But I don't remember him saying that during the rest of season 3, until the finale. I'm just wondering if either they have been saying it, during those times when they are off camera and talking, those in-depth conversations that we weren't allowed to see, or if they just don't say it. Or if there's canon evidence that he might be frustrated with her not saying it. 'Cause if I can find a hint in canon, it very well might come up in therapy.

Lexie Grey and the Cloak of Denial

2007-07-14T02:39:25Z

I think I'm the only person on the planet (or at least the Mer/Der ship) who isn't running screaming with yesterday's press release. But for some reason, I don't assume that this means a Meredith/Derek/Lexie triangle. There are a couple of necessary ingredients for this.

Reading the writer's blog with a cynical eye
Knowing that you aren't alone in swearing any Lexie/Derek hookup will leave you reaching for the remote
Knowing that Shonda has put out foilers in the past
The hope that seasons 1 & 2 weren't the exception, that season 3 was.

As I write this, I know that I'm probably skipping the most important ingredient, that of the Cloak of Denial. For the most part, I am choosing not to panic. It's a choice. Because--hello? I have a huge emotional investment in the Mer/Der of it all, as well as about 60K words.

I have a belief that Lexie can be on the show, even for 13 episodes, and not sleep with Derek. Not kiss Derek. Not get the McDreamy face from Derek. (Yeah, even though he gave it to her in T123, but that was during the arson. Remember the arson?)

I read the writer's blog with a very cynical eye. By the time the finale aired, Shonda had been watching the ratings erode. She'd been hearing the comments about the "not a spin-off". And she has a history of using the blog and podcast to plant foilers and spoilers, to promote the next show. One key point is the subsequent exit of Isaiah Washington from the show, and various mentions that rewrites had to be done to facilitate that. We know (or at least we hope) that Shonda is not an idiot. She knows that people were frustrated and irritated and watching The Office by the end of Season 3. And what does she do? She burns it all down and asks us to leap.

Which sounds to me very much like "I meant to do that." Because of whatever rewrites she had to do, she had to put everyone back on the table by the end of the episode. So she did. Right now, we're in as much limbo as we were at the end of Season 2, at least with regards to the Mer/Der. 'WHAT' you howl 'HOW ON EARTH CAN YOU SAY THAT?' Because we didn't get hot sex in the finale, did we? No, we did not. But remember. . .we were supposed to. And at the end of season 2, we had the losing of the panties, the becoming a dirty mistress for real. This was the first time Meredith knowingly had sex with a married man, and for her it was a huge thing. That was what made her so angry with Derek at the beginning of the season, and made her so mad with her mom. So she was confused. And probably pretty irritated with Derek, because who among us didn't want to break his nose when he asked 'What does this mean?' Drop a pair, figure it out.

So, take out the hot sex from the equation. Only because for season 3, Derek and Meredith obviously took a vow of celibacy. (And see where it got them?) What's left? Two very confused people. Who aren't exactly over each other, even if you interpreted them as broken up in the finale. (And I maintain that it didn't clearly happen. Before people read the blog, they were split on if it happened. So it didn't happen, not with any clarity.)

For Derek to make any advance on Lexie, whether it's a kiss or a flirt (other than his normal flirt, because hello? The man would flirt with a tree stump, right?) or heaven forbid, wake up in her house in 4.01 in a catastrophic full circle. . .that would kill McDreamy. There's a porniness to hooking up with your true love's sister that not even Patrick Dempsey could overcome. If it happened, there's no hope for him with Meredith. None. My sister and I come from a more functional family (only marginally, but still) and if anyone ever bopped from me to her or vice versa. . .that would be it. Knowing or not. Doesn't matter.

So my bet--or my Cloak of Denial--is that Shonda knows the ick factor. And she was hoping that it would create enough buzz so that we would all tune in to make sure it didn't happen. And that her plans for Lexie through 13 episodes don't include being McSister--but do include being some sort of family for Meredith.

Because I believe. Clap your hands if you believe.

I write like an actor.

2007-06-27T21:29:09Z

There's nothing else for it. I have to turn off my computer and do this longhand. Because there's a fabulous conversation on Mer/Der's relationship in ariaadagio's journal, and I am freaking addicted. I have managed to do NOTHING except chat on there about who did what do whom. All the time I could have (and should have) been writing.

I hope to get some done later. I realized the other day that I write like an actor. Which makes sense, because in some alternate reality, I am. Not a red carpet one, but just a working one. I acted my way through college, and really haven't had time since. But honestly, the way I write has got to be a result of the drama training.

Step 1: Write the dialogue. Pretend that I'm listening to an episode on tape, like I used to do in 1981 to "Battlestar Galactica". (Yes, Virginia, there was life before VCR.) At this point, I don't even bother with the attributions, but I put the quotes in.

Step 2: Go back and block it. Write out who is doing what when they are talking. Who is pacing, who is leaning, who is scribbling notes.

Step 3: Go back and add details. Set and costume design. Looks on faces. That kind of stuff.

Step 4: Read out loud and delete everything that sounds like crap. (save the best of it in a file "not used yet" because recycling is very earth friendly.)

Step 5: Go back and delete all the stuff that is too much. Conclusions that the character's won't have gotten to yet. Oversharing.

Step 6: Add lighting & sound effects. (More detail about where the scene is.)

There you have it.

And now I'm going offline. I hope. If I can beat this addiction.

A couple of questions from a novice. . .

2007-06-24T15:40:45Z

I'm an old dog. And while I disagree with the saying "you can't teach an old dog new tricks," sometimes I need to have things spelled out a little bit for me. So I have a couple of questions that I'm sure someone will step up and answer.

Number one, the user-pics. I don't have the time, energy or desire to learn how to make one. But I've seen a number of places that they are uploaded in large quantities. Are they there for the pickens? And when people ask to be credited, how are you expected to do that (rollover text?) I guess that's a LJ protocol question more than anything else.

Second. . .could someone tell me what the actual definition of a "song fic" is? I would imagine it's something like the therapy chapters of "What Do You Hear in These Sounds"--in fact, I'm pretty sure that's what it is. But since I started writing fics with Grey's, I thought that embedding songs was a hat-tip to the relationship the show has with its soundtrack. (It's pretty rare to have a soundtrack with lyrics, for one; for two, all of the shows are titled for songs.) And now, come to find out that I've written 2 "one-shot" song-fics (The Rose, Surrender) and am 20+ chapters into a multi-song song-fic (or would you call that compilation album fic?) that some of the more serious writers look down their collectively more serious noses at them. Oh well. It won't be the first time I've been looked down on. And, seriously, you want me to take the Dar Williams or the Talking Heads or the Elton John out of What Do You Hear? Not. Happening. Maybe I shouldn't be writing if I'm relying on the lyrics to add to the mood and depth of the writing. Granted. But since they do add so much--at least for me, and face it, I'm writing for me right now, your possible enjoyment is a side effect--the lyrics stay.

And C, would someone explain to me what crack-fic is? Again, I have an intuitive definition working right now, but before I run with it. . .let me know what you think it is.

(For the record? That One, Second, C bit was not original with Grey's, but used to my great enjoyment in Mad About You. A show that I loved once, but not so dearly as I loved Grey's in the spring of 2005.)

Whoever does the upkeep on the Grey's ABC site is an idiot.

2007-06-14T18:33:26Z

Ok, maybe I'm overreacting. Probably I'm overreacting. But I just went to Cristina Yang's bio page (not Sandra Oh's, but Yang's) and discovered that she's fluent in the following computer languages:

COBALT, HTML, C++

Idiots.

A test. . .

2007-06-03T17:47:26Z

Author: Carsonfiles
Timeline: This chapter takes place roughly just after the episode with the not-a-spinoff. I have a mental block against the name and number. Later chapters continue to end of Season 3 and beyond. Then A/U (or I'll be really freaked out next fall)
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but if Shonda doesn't quit bending them in ways they weren't meant to bend, I might have to confiscate them.
Summary: Picks up with Derek & Meredith on the way up to see the Bursons, and continues with Derek's session.

carsonfiles @ 2007-06-03T09:32:00

2007-06-03T13:39:21Z

I'm pissed. I can't upload the next chapter of "what do you hear" to the ga_fanfic community. I haven't yet figured out how to get the formatting right on the first go, and it takes entirely too long for me to get it formatted right. (The wysiwyg doesn't fix it half the time, so I have to edit the HTML.)

And I had just finished getting that all straightened out, and clicked the Post button. . .and it can't find the server. I tried a couple of times, hitting the back button seemed to retrieve my post. . .until it didn't. So now I have to start the whole thing over again.

Color me irritated. Very irritated.

Thinking

2007-05-21T14:46:43Z

I have a question for my friends. I've posted the first 3 chapters of "What Do You Hear in These Sounds" to the gafanfic community at Live Journal, and not gotten many comments. I got 2 on the first chapter, and then none. I'd like to have the story there, but it's kind of intimidating to get zero comments. Should I keep putting it up there, or just get over it and pull it down?

What would you do?

Didn't we almost have it all (first post, there will be more)

2007-05-18T18:22:42Z

I think I'm the only one who finished watching last night pissed off at Derek. I think I'm the only one who finished last night hopeful for Season 4.

I'm not the only one who is mad at Shonda, though. That's pretty much across the board.

My problem with Derek's "you're the love of my life" speech is that it came right after the "yeah, you should be worried" as he walked away speech. The one that makes me want to tell him that there is a land called Passive Aggressiva, and he is their king. My problem with Derek at the end is that he does nothing to acknowledge the pain he has caused Meredith. He has never taken responsibility for any of his own actions, not for any of her pain. And he throws her friends up at her? That she lets her friends in? McNarcissus, let me inform you. She doesn't let her friends in. They bludgeon their way in. Richard as well.

Izzie: We'll be waiting for you right outside.
Mer: You don't need to.
Izzie: Shut up.

That's how her friends get let in. They show up. Always. If you'd shown up with dinner that night, you'd have been let in as well.

I am so frustrated with the show and, honestly, with the fan base that currently loves McDreamy and hates Meredith. All he did was come say some pretty words to her. Pretty words, and he said them well, I'll grant you, but just words nonetheless. But because the words were there, and there was some smiling and a tilted head and maybe a lean, and the hair. . .all of the sudden people are saying McDreamy is back?

Yes, I'll agree, Meredith should have responded to him better. But I'll argue that for her not to respond to him was completely in character.   And she shouldn't leap back into his arms, not just on the basis of some pretty words. Back those words up with some actions, something to show Meredith that the next time she gets withdrawn (and not just from you, but from everyone) you won't be nasty, then we can talk about McDreamy being back. But for me, he's not.

Meredith is showing growth, real growth. She keeps trying, she keeps kicking, even when she has her legs cut out from her because the writer's room wants to pull some amazing! epic! plotline. Even last night, she chased Derek down the hall to talk, while he was trying to get away.

If McDreamy is back, McDreamy is only skin deep.

To be continued.

Testing 1, 2, 3--Review

2007-05-11T16:18:49Z

This thing between us. . .it's over.

That's what I want to tell Shonda. Because I really believe that she is less invested in her show than I am. Drama is a love triangle. There's the author/playwright/writing team. There are the actors. And, the part Shonda has forgotten, the audience.

The writers have a responsibility, from the time the lights go on and the first words of dialogue are spoken, to lay the foundations of art. If I go watch a play, any well written play, I should be able to understand the last scene in the play in terms of the first scene of the play, and all the scenes in between. It's true for Shakespeare. It's true for Neil Simon. It's true for whoever will win this year's Tony for script. (It's true for any literature; the first chapter of a book should give you understanding of the last, and the first line of a poem must make sense in light of the last.)  In terms of series television, any episode should make sense in terms of the first and subsequent episodes. When it doesn't, when a show has lost it's way, that's what viewers call "jumping the shark."

Does anyone hear motorboats revving up?

The blog for Testing starts off by saying ". . .terrible things happen on Grey's. . .wonderful things happen, too. . ." Really? I mean, I know terrible things happen. Things that wouldn't happen in real life. But I haven't so much noticed wonderful things. And the terrible things? Are all happening to Meredith. (Other terrible things that are going on, people are doing to themselves. Cristina/Burke, George/Izzie. Those are self-inflicted.) Since the ferryboat arc, it's been a month or so of elapsed time. And her mother died. Her fake-mommy died. Her newly found father disowned her.   For a few hours, her career was over.

If it were me or you, we'd be in the fetal position in the corner, rocking, muttering, And that's pretty much what we saw last night--Mer, staring, in the waiting room. And the people who love her, who have been there for her all year, cam and sat next to her. Talked to her. She didn't much answer. But they knew her, and pushed a bit to get her to start to breathe on her own again. Oh, except for the one who got pissed that he was being left out. Shut out by Meredith, Dark and Twisty Meredith, who can't share with Derek.

Except Derek was the one who inflicted a huge dose of dark & twisty on Meredith for the 7 months of TVLand time that were Season 2. The one who abandoned her. Lied to her, first off. And abandoned her.

And Derek is the one who, over and over through the course of this series, we've been told is Meredith's soulmate. Her knight in shining whatever. Addison tells us. The chief tells us. Derek himself tells us. He made promises. Dead Denny, who supposedly knew things--how Cristina's dad died, whatever he was going to say about Alex--said that what Meredith and Derek had was special.

But Derek is trashing it.

Yeah, Meredith isn't helping. But--hello--the death of a single parent can put a person in the corner. Particularly a dysfunctional parent. Add to that the death of Fake Mommy, the rejection by Thatcher. . .she had made steps in "The Other Side of This Life" but regressed. To have expected more or different out of Meredith would be unreasonable.

From Season 1, we've been building to what Dead Denny said to Meredith. That they are soulmates. That losing her would kill him. That he would be there for her. That he truly loves her, in a way (according to Addison) he didn't love Addison.  Soulmates. Love.

They keep saying those words, it's like they aren't real words any more.

Or, to put it differently, "You keep saying that word. . .I do not think it means what you think it means."

Just because the love is true and your soul has found its mate doesn't mean it will be easy. And if Derek is the type of man who is lazy enough to watch his soulmate go through a series of devastating events--any one of which could bring anyone to her knees--and react by getting his feelings hurt that she didn't reach out to him. . .sounds like my three year old.

I've been sold a bill of goods. A pig in a poke. The McDreamy is only skin deep. He has no clue of how badly he hurt Meredith by lying (omitting the truth) and by choosing Addison. He doesn't get that she has a hard time trusting him after that.

And she should. Have a hard time trusting him.

Again, I'm not saying that Mer is quite as self-actualized as she should be. But neither am I. Or you. But she's never promised Derek something, and then failed to deliver so spectacularly as he has.  To tell her he can't breathe for her, and then expect her to share openly defies any logic. So obviously, she's doing what she can not to ask him to breathe for her. And that's not what he wants either. Derek, drop a pair and tell her what you want.

And he didn't hook up with Barfly Lexie why? Oh, because he was with friends. Not because his soulmate was having her soul slowly but surely crushed by the writers.

I'm still hoping. But really. . .I have a busy life. I could do other things on Thursday nights. I like a little consistency and truth to my characters.

Surrender

2007-05-08T01:30:58Z

Title: Surrender
Rating: T+
Summary: Meredith is married, with two children. She and Derek escape reality for an affair one weekend every year.
Timeline: Season 3 plus 10 years.
Disclaimer: I would love to own Grey's Anatomy. I could write really sussy scenes and have them played out in front of me. Or, you know, cast myself. But first I'd have to go on a really big diet and exercise and move across the country. . .you know what? It's easier just to keep on with my own life & my own husband (who is a little McDreamy to me), and write fanfics as an exercise in fantasy. Because we all need a little fantasy.

Surrender

(Cheap Trick, not Kelly Clarkston. If Derek’s favorite band is The Clash, Cheap Trick is probably up there somewhere, right? For the record: I don't own these lyrics any more than I own Patrick Dempsey. Which is to say, not at all.)

Mommy's all right,
Daddy's all right,
They just seem a little weird.
Surrender, Surrender,
But don't give yourself away.

Meredith turned up the volume and rolled down the window for the two-hour drive. The hour of ‘80s music was almost a playlist for her heart: Cheap Trick. Before that, Depeche Mode with I Just Can’t Get Enough, which was perfect for this weekend. And before that, The Clash. Derek’s favorite band. She thought back to the day years ago when she had made the suggestion that changed their lives.

Flashback

Meredith and Derek hadn’t been able to manage lunch alone in months, not since she had returned from maternity leave after giving birth to her second child. A son, who along with the three year-old daughter, completed her family. The father was pleased with someone to carry on the family name, since he was the only son in his family. She looked at Derek across the cafeteria table. This was her chance. It was the two of them, alone, in a way it never was any more. She thought about what she was going to say, worried that it would blow up in her face. But nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“Derek, would you. . .” she tapered off, her resolve faltering now that she had opened her mouth.

He looked up at her, for the moment giving her all of his attention. How she craved his attention, and it seemed as if she had it less and less as time went on.

“Meredith? What?” And he didn’t sound terse right now, didn’t sound frustrated, didn’t sound as if the stresses of his own life were crowding in.

“Derek, remember how we. . .” But they never talked about the past now, so she shouldn’t start there. “Derek? Let’s have an affair.”

The rest of the room, the hospital, the whole world fell away, and he concentrated on her. “An. . .an affair?” And he almost laughed, which would have ended it right there. But he didn’t, and she saw that his eyes darkened with remembered lust.

“I know. It’s crazy. But I need. . .I need it. And I think you do too. We can go away. We can take a day or two, I’ll take care of the arrangements. You can work the hospital schedules. We’ll come back, go back to our everyday lives. And then next year, around now, around. . .” she knew why she wanted to schedule it now, but wondered if he remembered, “around prom season, we’ll take two nights. And remember.”

He was intrigued, she could tell. And tempted. Oh, she knew his tempted face. But would he? Did he think it was worth whatever risk, either in the hospital or at home?

“I’ll tell you what. If you can find a place, take care of family stuff, I’ll take care of the hospital end. I’ll come up with a reasonable story.”

And a relief so tangible washed over her that she almost wondered if the hospital sprinkler system had come on. They would go, and have their time together.

End Flashback

She drove, almost at her destination. The lodge she had found their first time out had been almost perfect—only a couple of hours out of Seattle, but far enough away to prevent any but the worst emergency from calling them back to reality. He would be coming up after finishing his shift at the hospital, probably only slipping into bed with her in the hours before dawn. And they would wake together, and wrap their arms around each other. They would be able to kiss and caress, and remember how things used to be. And how they might be again.

After checking in at the main office, Meredith opened the door to their cabin. She brought in her tote of groceries and other supplies that they had added to their weekend tradition. Champagne. Candles. Berries, with to be served with whipped cream on a pound cake from Izzie. Poor Izzie, she thought the cake was going to the kids. But Meredith didn’t want to admit to her friends that the lust that burned between her and Derek had not lowered with time; if anything, the scarcity of their time together made these moments explode with the fervor of kerosene on embers. This annual weekend was theirs, and they would pretend as if nothing in the world kept them apart.

Derek’s favorite—or second favorite, rather—activity on the trip was the lavender fields. After he had discovered that the area hosted lavender farms and a lavender festival each July, he insisted on changing their tryst from May to July. Because in July, the fields were covered with the blossoms, which released their heady scent. But he hadn’t told her why that first year, had only told her they were going on a special adventure.

Flashback.

“Derek, this is someone’s farm. We can’t just drive in here and picnic!”

“Hush.” And Derek had gotten out of the car, opened the trunk and pulled out blankets and a picnic basket. Meredith tried to take the basket from him but couldn’t. It probably weighed more than she did.

He gave her a blanket to carry in one hand, and took the other in his, rubbing his thumb across her palm in a slow pattern. He led her down a path between the lavender plants and they reached a small clearing within the field. He spread out the blankets.

“Sit. This is my night to take care of you, to make sure you are having a wonderful time. Let me know if I’m lacking in any way.” And his slow smile told her that there would be no lack, no complaint that she could make.

He unpacked the basket, first pouring her a glass of wine. Next he opened up the strawberries. They had been rinsed and cored, so he began feeding them to her. She took a bite of one and giggled as the juice ran to her chin, reaching up to wipe it off.

“Allow me.” Derek bent over to her, took her face in his hands and slowly licked the sticky juice from her chin, giving slow small touches with his tongue until he came to her mouth. Her lips parted, and she gave a soft whimper as he licked her bottom lip. She was turning in to press herself against his body and deepen the kiss when he let her go, and turned again to the basket, ready to unpack the next edible delicacy.

The sun was setting as they finished their meal, and the scent of lavender was blowing around them as the twilight surrounded them. Derek took Meredith into his arms and began slowly kissing her face, beginning with the lip he had abandoned earlier.

”Meredith, thank you,” Derek whispered huskily between kisses. “Thank you for your suggestion at lunch that day. Thank you for knowing how much I need you. Thank you.”

“Derek,” Meredith could hardly get the words out, as she kissed the face of her lover. “Please. . .stop talking.”

He ran his hands smoothly along her face, caressing her hair and stroking her body. His fingers found their way to the skin of her back at the bottom of her blouse, and slowly moved up until he had pulled her shirt almost to the top of her body. Then with one swift movement, he pulled it up, over her head, and tossed it to the side, followed quickly by her bra. And he looked at the woman he still loved, would always love, through anything that might separate them.

”You are so beautiful. Meredith, you are so beautiful. You are everything.”

Meredith smiled, wanting to believe his words, but knowing that, after all, she had borne and nursed two children, and the road map of her stretch marks was still evident on her belly. Her breasts, well, they were larger than they once were, they had their own stretch marks, but she had thought to herself more than once about talking to Mark about. . .not an enhancement, but a lift. Because bigger isn’t always better if you can’t pass the pencil test. Knowing she was beautiful in Derek’s eyes, though—she could ignore a multitude of her own flaws as long as he looked at her like that. And that once a year, no matter what, they could be together.

She reached out to him, and took the buckle of his belt in her hands, wanting to see the body that she still wanted, even years after she had first met him, just a guy in a bar. After unbuckling his belt, instead of continuing to undress him by taking off his pants, she took off his shirt. Took off his shirt, and nearly threw herself into his embrace, skin against skin, chest against chest. Her mouth sought his, and she kissed him deeply, feeling his tongue against hers, his teeth against her lips.

Now his fingers played along the tops of her pants, easily sliding them down her hips. She arched her back, lifting her bottom off of the blanket and he slid her pants and panties down, kissing each toe as he untangled her feet from the shoes and clothing. He ran his hands back up her body, and she quivered under his touch. Reaching up, she found the strength once again to unbutton his jeans and tug them down, even though they resisted much more than her elastic-waisted pants had. As she worked the pants down his legs, she kissed his stomach and hip, giving small licks in unconscious imitation of his earlier kisses along her jaw. He reached down and took her hair into his fists, holding her head close to his body. She could feel his erection through his shorts, pressing against the side of her head. Meredith exhaled and slowly blew through the cotton fabric, watching him twitch in reaction.

“Damn.” He cursed and then finished undressing, reaching behind him to pull a light blanket from its folds and wrap it around her. Even though it was July, the sun was now down completely, and they needed the blanket to contain the heat from their bodies. Both naked now, they stretched against each other, feeling their asynchronous heartbeats and breaths as they treasured this moment.

It was only a moment, but it felt like it was forever before Derek moved again, rolling Meredith over onto her back and trailing his fingers down her body to her hip. He caressed the slight pouch in her tummy and stroked down to the soft hair where her legs met. She groaned and shifted opening her legs, wanting to feel him, all of him. Her hands were stroking his sides and back, then she shifted one to the front and began to stroke him, running light circles with one finger around his tip.

“Oh, god, Meredith, my sweet, sweet Meredith.” Derek bent his head to her breast, running his tongue around it before taking the hardened nipple into his mouth and rolling it between his teeth.

“Derek, please god, please now please” and Meredith wrapped her legs around his waist and guided him into her hot wetness. When he finally entered her, time stopped for them both. He looked into her eyes, losing all sense of self. They didn’t move, just felt themselves, within and without.

And then they were moving. First with a slow barely there rocking that caused Meredith to moan. And then gradually moving faster, because her moans that became words that became incoherent did nothing to slow her lover down. And when she screamed as she felt the tingling take over and the pressure bear down and her lover was within her and he loved her and she loved him, she came in a starfire burst of pleasured sensation, and screamed that she loved him and yes and Derek I love you, and Derek, Derek, yes. And in that moment, if in no other, she completely and totally belonged to him.

He held her, then, feeling the quivering of her body gradually calm, kissing her face, her forehead, each eye and the tip of her nose. She breathed slowly and licked her dried lips, and swallowed to moisten her parched mouth.

“I love you, Derek.”

“I love you, Meredith.”

He started to move again. And this time, as their pulses quickened and they exchanged kisses and love talk, when the time came that their world was only each other, they both screamed out their love. And they both were quiet, listening to the sounds of the night, and their beating hearts.

End Flashback

Meredith stood for a moment in their cabin, eyes closed, her body remembering the sensations of that night from several years ago. How she had discovered the next day Derek had planned it all, even giving the family who owned the farm an evening in a Seattle hotel. She quickly put the remaining groceries on shelves, fixed herself a light dinner and went upstairs to bed. She was alone until her lover met her, but alone was enough for her right now. Between work, her children and her husband, she rarely had time to sit and think about her life and the choices she had made, and the regrets she would always have.

Saturday Morning

Meredith woke up the next morning to a slow massage. Someone’s hands were rubbing her back, and she felt a warm body spooning against her. “Mmmmmmmm,” she murmured. “Someone got in late last night.” She rolled over to look at Derek, who had propped himself on an elbow to look at her.

“I had a surgery run late, and then George was curious about our meeting,” Derek answered, gently brushing away the blonde locks of hair that had fallen across Meredith's face.

“That’s your end to deal with, remember? Cover story at hospital. Since you are the big bad chief, you get to handle it.” Meredith stretched and yawned, making groany morning noises before getting out of bed.

Derek frowned slightly as he noticed her left hand. “Mer. . .” She looked down and realized that she was still wearing her wedding rings. She smiled, taking them off and zipping them into a pocket of her weekender bag.

“Is that better?” she asked.

Derek continued to frown. “Marginally.”

“Derek, remember the rules. No talking about Seattle Grace. No talking about Seattle. Just talking about what is here. That would be me. And my lovahhhh.” Meredith purred at Derek, giving him an overdone vamp. “So tell me. How should we start our tryst this year?” His frown slowly transformed into a leer.

“Let’s start with a shower.”

Sunday Morning

When Meredith woke that morning, she was alone. She knew she would be; Derek always left before she woke. She would find the coffee brewed and a love note waiting for her. She had a secret hiding place with the notes from every year they had done this, notes she never shared with anyone in Seattle.

Darling,

She showered, replaced her rings, packed her bags and loaded them into the car. The drive home seemed much shorter than her drive two days earlier. She pulled into Thatcher and Susan’s driveway, where her children had been anxiously waiting for her. Holding James in one arm, and Anne’s hand in the other, she listened to them tell of the adventures they had visiting the Troll under the Bridge. Finally managing to capture them within car seats, she drove home, expecting her husband not to be there but at the hospital, where he spent most of his time.

But he was, and he too met her in the drive way, smiling and glad to see her. And she was glad to see him as well, glad to know that he was there and would always be there. She gave him a hug and quick kiss on the lips before pulling back and looking into his eyes.

“How was your weekend?”

“Oh, boring. Meetings and meals. Nothing to get excited about. You’re later than I thought you would be.”

“Ugh, I had to wait for 4 ferry runs at the Bainbridge Ferry. But I didn’t want to go the long way around. I wanted to ride the ferryboat.”

“You wanted to ride the ferryboat? I have a thing for ferryboats. An intense thing for ferryboats.”

“I remember, Dr. Shepherd. I remember.” And linking hands with her husband, she guided her family indoors, ready to immerse herself back into her busy busy life.

Whatever happened to all this season's losers of the year?
Ev'ry time I got to thinking, where'd they disappear?
When I woke up, Mom and Dad are rolling on the couch
Rolling numbers, rock and rolling, got my Kiss records out
Mommy's all right, Daddy's all right, they just seem a little weird
Surrender, surrender, but don't give yourself away.

A/N: Some readers have said it's obvious early on; others are surprised by the ending. Either way, I think that Mer/Der would have known that they had to do something to shake it up when life is too daily. To keep anyone from being absent. But you know what else? I think that everyone at SGH probably knows about their annual weekends.

I can’t tell you how much these stolen moments mean to me. Sometimes I wonder if I can live the rest of the year without having you alone with me. I love you. Remember that. And next year, I’ll be your lover again.

-D.

"The Other Side of This Life"

2007-05-04T03:28:47Z

Overall? Meh. I give the Private Practice portion a C+. Maybe it'll fly. Or maybe not & all of the Addex shippers will be happy when she returns.

Thatcher? If I were Mer. . .I'd be all Tony Soprano. . .he's dead to me. I actually liked Fake Mommy, so I'm sad to see her go. And Derek didn't piss me off last week, but this week. . .he should have gone inside the house. Of course, I didn't hear the full conversation about the trailer, so it's possible that they had plans to be at the trailer. . .and she stood him up. I don't know. All I know is that I got this sinking feeling in the promos for next week, similar to the sinking feeling that I got at the end of Who's Zoomin' Who. If you've seen the promos, you know what I mean.

But here's the deal: both of them are pretty emotionally stunted right now. They haven't yet figured out what it means to be in a relationship. Derek is as much of an avoider as Meredith, he walks away. So just like an addict, they need for things to get bad enough to need them to get better. And maybe that will happen. And we know that the season finale will give some Mer/Der cliff. I just hope that when Shonda says (as she has repeatedly) that she wants to show how hard it is to work through a relationship. . .she means it. That would be new territory for television, though. There's more of the Ross/Rachel type of thing out there (break up/make up) than actually dealing with problems. There are so many subjects that haven't come up between them--that have to come up between them--if they are going to be more than a shallow relationship. Starting with. . .I dunno. . ."Why didn't you tell me you were married?"

And even if that doesn't come up in the next 2 episodes, it will come up in their couples therapy this summer. Because--hello--I'm in charge of their therapy. (I'm assuming that if you are reading this, it's because you are reading my fics. And you should go read "What Do You Hear in These Sounds" over at fanfiction.net, if you aren't. Just saying.)

Ok. We all know that promos lie. They put something out there to get the viewers in. And Derek picking up some floozy at Joe's--floozy other than Mer, of course--while Mer watches? Sure to get the viewers in.

I just hope that Dempsey is ready for the hate that will shower on his character over hiatus, since he loves the McDreamy thing so much.

The Rose

2007-05-04T00:29:07Z

Legal Mumbo-Jumbo: I own no part of Grey’s Anatomy, save for the DVDs and the magazine which I tracked down at a bookstore. And the Dempsey cover of the tv guide, which I didn’t find until a week later because every female in the city got to the store before I did. See, if I did own Grey’s, I’d have Christina’s eyebrows. And Meredith’s laugh. And someone else’s figure, since I currently have Bailey’s. Oh, and I wouldn't have to squint to have Derek in bed with me.

And I am not Bette Midler, nor do I sing. Or write songs. So I don't own "The Rose" either, not even a bootleg copy.

But without further ado. . .Early second season. Slightly AU. Or not. You decide.

The Rose

Some say love--it is a river
that drowns the tender reed.
Some say love--it is a razor
that leaves your soul to bleed.

Some say love--it is a hunger
an endless aching need.
I say love--it is a flower
and you its only seed.

It's the heart afraid of breaking,
that never learns to dance.
It's the dream afraid of waking,
that never takes the chance.
It's the one who won't be taken
who cannot seem to give,
and the soul afraid of dying
that never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long,
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong,
Just remember in the winter
far beneath the bitter snows,
lies the seed
that with the sun's love
in the spring
becomes the rose.

Well, then. Positive.

Positive as in of course. Positive as in how much more negative could things be? How much more would happen? How far would she be stretched before the lack of her own energy caused her to implode in a supernova of bitterness, leaving a black hole of the Intern Formerly Known As.

She tossed the pee stick into the trash, along with the others. Back to work.

She saw him that day. Of course she did; there was a downside to the Intern Sleeping with Attending, that if she wanted to excel (and of course she did, excelling was written in her DNA) she couldn’t avoid him. The unfortunate result of their previous relationship was that she loved his specialty. She wanted to see all of his surgeries she could, even when she was strong enough not to see him. And one didn’t come without the other. So she stood in the OR with him, denying her heart to enable her mind, taking the opportunity to look through his eyes and see the patient’s exposed organs. Her fascination with his specialty hadn’t begun with their (affair?) relationship. It hadn’t even begun in medical school, although you could say with 100 ironic accuracy that she’d had special tutoring in that subject before gaining the letters after her name. And if someone forced her to be honest, ironic accuracy was the best she could do.

The Seattle Yellow Pages sat on her lap, and tucked within it a paper with two names and numbers. Two routes. She had to make a decision.

And she had to make it alone. He had made his, and fine, that was fine. Really, fine fine fine fine fine. It became her mantra as the other interns and Bailey asked her how she was doing. She was good at being fine, at pretending that she was not the Misery Goddess, pretending that misery didn’t follow her around, that she didn’t have her own personal black rain cloud like Rob McKenna, and that it would always be raining, always.

She. Was. Fine.

Fine.

And that very same word? Means The End if you’re a musician, which was a pretty accurate description of where she was. The. end.

Most hospital stays are due to pregnancy or other (ahem) women’s issues. That’s why Webber had been so eager to offer Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd a contract and just about anything else she asked for to stay in Seattle. So during medical school, obstetrics and gynecology weren’t a single class, they weren’t a footnote, like say orthopaedics, they were important topics. So she knew that half of all pregnancies ended in miscarriage. And that 80 of miscarriages were in the first three months of pregnancy. And when the mother is under-stress (or, you know, teetering on the edge of supernova and implosion) and drinking like a fish (although she hadn’t so much after the positive-which-is-really-negative test) odds of a miscarriage go up further. So when she was sitting on the commode, which she really didn’t get to do often enough during a 30-hour shift, and noticed blood on her panties, her first reaction was irony. This was the same commode on which she peed on the stick. And she cleaned up what didn’t look like a lot of blood anyway, stole a maxipad from the maternity floor, finished up her shift and went home.

She had managed to work through worse situations than a few cramps.

She could work through the sideways glances, whispered comments, outright stares. Not the ones from the rest of the hospital; those were deflected by her Cloak of Denial. No, the worst ones were from him. The worst ones were the ones that gave her hope.

She didn’t need hope.

She was fine.

That night, as the cramps worsened and the blood flowed, she renewed her relationship with a bottle of alcohol. Ever faithful alcohol, which might not ever call or write, but would never impale her heart either. A girl can’t have everything; in the end, it’s a question of priorities.

She was scheduled off the next morning, and she knew that was A Good Thing. She pulled her paper with the choice of two numbers from the Seattle Yellow Pages and picked up the phone. The choice was no longer hers.

The clinic was tucked in a quiet strip mall, between a nail/tanning salon and a temp agency. A perfect hat trick of irony, which brought a smile to her face. Inside, the gel was colder than she’d thought it would be, and the tech’s manner warmer. She wanted cold, distance.

“Don’t be nice,” she managed to croak. “Nice will make me cry. And I don’t cry.”

The doctor determined that the miscarriage was complete, and that there would need to be no evacuation procedure. He recommended that she follow up within the next several months with her regular doctor. He handed her the chart and fee-slip, and directed her to the desk to check out. She looked at the coding on the fee-slip: Procedure—New Patient, Expanded Visit. 99202. Diagnosis—Spontaneous AB, without complication. 634.92. She opened the chart and read his notes.

Stupid bad handwriting. He should have been a lawyer.

“No remaining POC.”

POC. Products of conception.

Miracle of life—no. That line of thinking was closed. A no-fly zone. Dead to her.

She was fine.

At work the next day, she felt (and looked) like crap. Damn elevators. This was what, the third time she’d been on one with him today? But taking the stairs wasn’t an option, not today, not her first day back after seeing that doctor and that diagnosis. Maybe tomorrow, when she was less battered. But today, she could feel his intensity, knew when he stopped looking at the floor, knew when he looked at her.

Knew when he looked down again.

“I miss you.” The words were not hers, couldn't be, she was fine, she wouldn't have said that. But she did.

And then he was looking again, and now moving, and she could feel his warmth, his touch, his taste, all senses attuned to this man, with whom she had created a whole future, a castle in the sky in just a few short weeks, and he moved to her, leaned in, dear god just short of an embrace and if she tilted her head they would, they could, no, stop, no, she was fine, but please if she turned right now, she could feel his arms again. No. She clenched her jaw; she was fine.

“I can’t.”

And the elevator door opened. They exited.

Derek turned right.

Meredith turned left.

Fine (The End)

A/N: I think I've read more fics that spin "Let It Be" than any other episode. There's just something about it--from Derek's conversation about the ring with Weiss, the dead bird just freaks me out, and, of course, the pathetic "Hello Kitty" bandaid. And this just kept rolling around my brain until I let it out. It doesn't change much, just the degree of pain Mer is in, so there will be no updates. Just watch Season 2.

About Me

2007-04-30T00:50:01Z

I'm a little (a lot?) obsessed with Grey's Anatomy, and have been since I watched the preview for the premiere. I love the characters and how complicated they are--almost like real people! Most, if not all, of my fic will work with what we see onscreen, presenting scenes that didn't even make the DVDs, and giving the thoughts of the characters in scenes we do have. That's what the written word does so much better than television, the interior monologue. If the interior monologue were a person, I'd marry it.

I’m dark & twisty, so sometimes I’m Meredith. And I can be ballsy and sharp edged to mask vulnerability, so sometimes I’m Addison. I’m really good at pretending that my life is completely different than it is, so sometimes I’m Derek. And I am socially inept, which makes me George. I’m more George than I’d like to admit, actually. I wish I were more Christina and Bailey. But what all that means is that since I am so many different people, I thought it would be fun to create a fic telling you what they are thinking. Or what they would be thinking, if I were in charge of the GA world.

Oh, and something else. I don't do AU. Well, I do it, in that I read it. But I don't write it. I try to follow the canon of the show as closely as possible. It's like all those Star Wars books. There are hundreds, and maybe thousands of books written with the Star Wars characters. And the authors have to pass the inspection of Lucas & his minions, or they don't get published. They have to agree with canon. That's the trick of writing fanfic, to me anyway. If I don't have to make it work within the GA universe, well. . .then I might as well get my own characters & stop stealing Shonda's, right? It's like writing a sestina. (Google it.) The rules are convoluted and sometimes make no sense, but if you don't follow them, what you have is not a sestina.