I've finished Sky Blue and Black now, and am very close to updating Jigsaw (I know, I know, I suck at updating that story…but I'm stuck between the climax and rising action at the moment, but I promise I'm working on it) and for some reason, despite having a ton of school work this year, I feel the need to have two stories in the works. I am LOVING season three (Happy MerDer whoo hoo!) but I am feeling like I need to write some angst. So. This is probably the most serious topic I've dealt with, and it's also my first attempt at first person writing (alternating between Meredith and Derek), so this is going to be interesting. I hope. Please review.

Cover up with make up in the mirror
tell yourself it's never gonna happen again
you cry alone and then he swears he loves you.

Do you feel like a man
when you push her around?
Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?
Well I'll tell you my friend, one day this world's going to end
as your lies crumble down, a new life she has found.

Face Down, Red Jumpsuit Appartus

Meredith

I stand in front of the mirror, suppressing yawns and thinking that five a.m comes too damn early. I should have taken a normal job, with normal, nine to five hours.

Nine. I close my eyes momentarily, imagining it. How pleasant.

Sadly, that's only a fantasy. Especially when you're a surgical intern. But I have a tendency to do that…fantasize. A lot. Certainly an unhealthy amount. How can anyone not do that? Its only human. 'Grass is greener' syndrome, and all that. How is there any possible way that we can't imagine living a different life? How can we stop ourselves from wondering if we're making the right choices, or, if its something we can't control, what it would be like it things were different.

I go too wide with the eyeliner and grudgingly grab at a washcloth to start over. Too much deep thinking for this ungodly hour. Definitely not a good idea.

I start over with the makeup and finally finish. I stare at myself critically, first wondering if the eye makeup is too much, then wondering if the foundation is thick enough. There's a faded bruise on my right cheek; surely it's unnoticeable now; I've gotten used to this routine. I finally stop scrutinizing it; I'm sure I only think it's obvious because I'm staring. Still, I'm not as reassured on the eye makeup…

The bathroom door creaks open, and I tense automatically. Finn steps in and smiles. I return it to his reflection, not turning around. His hair is bedridden and his only half open with sleep. "Morning", he murmurs sleepily.

"Hi." He blinks a little, adjusting to the light, and studies me. "You think that eyeliner's a little thick?"

"Is it?" I pretend this is just a casual question.

"Yeah. You've got a 20 hour shift. Who are you trying to impress?"

I laugh like I think he's joking, like this is a completely different conversation with a completely different person. "You don't want me to look nice?"

"Yeah, for me." He leans a little closer, slipping his hands on my waist, and I stiffen slightly. "Come over tonight."

"It'll be late, Finn."

"Come over. We can stay at my place tonight." I'm not surprised; he hates it here, and I hate it there. We've been spending most of the time at his place; last night was an exception, simply because I hadn't gone to his place after work, so he'd been 'forced' to come here.

I give him a fake smile, still aiming at his reflection to avoid turning around to face him. "Yeah, okay."

"Good. Now I've got to go." He starts to walk out, then hesitates. "Seriously, though. The eyeliner. You're not in high school." I wince a little at the rough tone, but just nod my head. He closes the bathroom door and I unconsciously exhale deeply. A melodramatic action, I'll give you that, but not inappropriate at all.

I emerge from the bathroom a few minutes later, not wanting to risk catching Finn before he leaves seeing as I have not attempted to change anything about my makeup, eyeliner included.

Izzie and George are in the kitchen, transferring coffee from the pot into cups. They murmur what could conceivably be 'good morning', but it's hard to tell. George has never been a morning person, and Izzie, though she's been back at the hospital for over two weeks now, still regards it as some sort of torture for the first part of the day.

"Finn left, right?"

"Yeah, a minute ago." George takes as muffin from the container on the counter and pushes it toward me; I take one gratefully, and I've gotten about two bites in before we head to the car.

Soon, we're at the hospital, and, because fate doesn't like me to have good days, Derek's the first person I see. He's talking with the Chief right inside the door, and he momentarily glances up before looking away, pretending, as usual, like I am no longer, to quote Cristina, a blip on his radar.

What was it I was thinking about earlier? Fantasies. Nothing like Derek to make me fantasize. There's a lot to work with there. Fantasies are built on 'what ifs'.

What I had chose differently?

Flashback: One Month Ago

"Meredith?"

"Meredith."

I stand there between them, feeling as if time has stopped. This is one of those surreal moments, definitely. Because a few hours ago, there would have been absolutely no way anyone could have convinced me that I would have had sex with Derek during a prom, and end up standing between my married ex-boyfriend and my current boyfriend (I guess he's my boyfriend anyway. Rules have not been made. But then, I'm not really prepared to talk rules, seeing as when Derek and I decided to do that…oh, let's not bring that up) feeling like I'm making a much bigger choice than whether to ride home with Finn.

"Meredith?" Finn sounds concerned and, perhaps understandably, baffled.

"Meredith." Derek's isn't even a question. He's saying a lot with just my name. He's good at that.

Shit.

I'm mentally making a pros and cons list. This is admittedly not the smartest thing to do, but I'm panicked.

Here's the best thing I can come up with:

Finn (pros) Sweet, sense of humor, saves puppies for a living (really, this is actually one of the first things I think of) has plans, cares about me, not married, understands scary/damaged.

I blank out on his cons. Then, thinking of an episode of Friends that featured a similar list (the end result not being so good, but I don't consider this any sort of omen) and a con comes to me: not Derek.

Derek's list is easier, probably because I start with the cons)

Derek (cons): Lied about his wife, stringing me along, called me a whore, cocky, married…

Married.

This shouldn't be hard.

"Come on, Finn."

He's still looking confused, and I realize that he has no idea he's won this mini-battle here.

I can't look at Derek at first. Then the click of heels against the tiled floor makes me turn and I see Addison walking toward him. I only turn for a split second, but this is apparently enough to memorize the expression on Derek's face: a brilliant combination of hurt, bewilderment, uncertainty, and anger.

Tears sting my eyes, but I turn to Finn and follow him anyway. He takes my hand as we walk out, and I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. I feel like I'm going to collapse any moment.

Still, I'm trying to convince myself that I made the right decision. Finn's great. He's the perfect guy.

George, Izzie and I step onto the elevator and I watch Derek a little more, trying to be casual about it so my friends don't comment.

I sigh as the elevator doors close, blocking my view of him. I think back to that night some more, at prom.

Finn had seemed perfect. And for two weeks, he'd stayed that way. I'd been miserable, trying to help Izzie through her crisis, working a lot to pick up the slack at the hospital, and thinking about Derek much more than was healthy. Finn was there, and he made me feel okay about what I'd decided.

Then, he began changing. Jealousy came first. He didn't want me talking to Derek, and he began constantly asking about him, trying to catch me out. I thought this was irritating, but at least a bit understandable…after all, I was thinking about Derek a lot, and even though Finn had no way of knowing this, what he was doing didn't feel inappropriate.

He got worse. He doesn't like me hanging out with my friends at night, going to Joe's. I don't appreciate this much, but it just means he wants to be with me a lot.

Right?

I mentioned it to him, gently and casually, but he said it was because he and his wife, before she died, were spending a lot of time apart, hanging with friends rather than each other, and he regrets not spending a lot of time with her. And, he'd pointed out, as much as I work already, isn't it understandable that he should want to spend time with me when he gets a chance.

I had no way to argue this. It makes sense.

The hitting, though, is new. About two weeks ago, it started. I was in a tetchy mood and he was grilling me about Derek…its not important. He apologized so much after, and he got teary-eyed and said the anniversary of his wife's death is coming up, and said he always getting miserable during this time.

Being sorry, though…that didn't make him stop. It scares me a lot more than I like to admit, but this isn't who he is, surely? This isn't the guy I met or the guy or was there for me when he had no reason to be, who forgave me after I admitted to the prom incident with Derek. I've never had someone I love die, how should I know if this isn't how someone reacts to the reminders…he didn't leave me over the other crap, the distance and the crying (that happened a lot, incidentally, in the aftermath of the prom, and I would refuse to explain it). I'm giving him a chance.

It's for the best. Besides, if I'm not with Finn, leaving Derek would have been for nothing. And I hate the thought.

Also, he said he loved me last week. He loves me. He loves me. And maybe I didn't say it back but…I drank in those words. I loved that he loved me. That has to count for something.

Right?

Derek

Once she walks by I can't concentrate on what Richard's saying anymore. I'm trying too hard to keep from swiveling around to watch her get into the elevator with her friends.

Conflicting feelings always happen when I see Meredith, and today is no exception. There's the familiar feeling of desire, a sort of desperate longing that gets worse everyday that I go without her, and there's anger, directed at any one of several candidates (her, me, Finn, Addison), and a little twinge of jealousy thrown in for good measure.

She's not happy. I know her well enough that I can tell she's not, even from the distance that we've kept between each other for the past month. I knew she wouldn't be happy when she left with him, and what kills me is that she knew it. She had to. Because if she was happy with him, what had gone on between us in the prom wouldn't have happened, that much I'm sure of.

I didn't tell Addison. About prom, I mean. Part of this was cowardice, part of it was childish spite (if I have to see her with Finn, she has too see me with my wife), and part of it was just selfishness…there's no longer a chance with Meredith, so nothing should be stopping me from staying with Addison.

I have, actually, resorted to a very childish method of handling of this whole situation. Ignoring Meredith as much as possible, speaking only medical talk with her when forced, is very grade school, or junior high if I'm being generous with myself. She had a right to her choice, just like I did when I made mine.

But that doesn't make it any less painful. I wanted a chance to fight for her, and I don't feel like I got one.

Mercifully, Richard seems to realize I'm not listening at all, and ends the conversation. Just as well. I've got a consult with a patient who was sent up from the pit in a few minutes anyway.

Well, it had to happen eventually.

I'm walking to the room where my new patient is and a familiar voice speaks somewhat hesitantly from behind me. "Dr. Shepard?"

I turn slowly and face her, my tone (the one I've perfected lately) is formal and laced with anger. "Dr. Grey."

Her eyes are darting everywhere but my face. "Dr. Bailey sent me. I'm your intern."

"Right. Okay." I nod to the room we're standing outside of and turn walking in, presuming that she'll follow. She does, and once we're in front of the patient I have to turn on the kind, competent doctor routine.

The patient is a fifteen year old girl in a soccer uniform who apparently was attempting to head the soccer ball in a game two days ago and met a goalie midair, spinning sideways and fell, bumping her head and spraining her wrist, somehow simultaneously. Today, she collapsed on the field in another soccer game and had what looked like a seizure.

I tactfully suggest that it would have been best to come in when it happened, just to be sure, but then drop it, because it's clear the parents are worried, and the girl is adamant about the fact that she had no headaches at all.

"What do you think it could be? Does she just have a concussion?" This is the father.

"Could be, or it could be a number of things. We'll take a CT scan to check, but there's no reason to worry until we have to." I watch as Meredith smiles reassuringly at the girl (Jess), who seemed to be getting paler as the conversation continued.

We're silent to each other when we take Jess to CT, but I catch Meredith glancing at my a couple times. A part of me hates this silence, the anger, the awkwardness of it all. But the other part of me is louder, and more stubborn, and too full of pride to do anything about it.

I do as much as I can in complete silence, not quizzing her on procedure or possibilities…its unprofessional, granted, but I can't help it.

When the CT scan results come up on the monitor, I study it for a second and forget my cold and distant tone. "Nothing! Nothing to indicate a reason for a seizure." I sigh, staring at the screen for awhile, as though expecting something to change.

"Dr. Shepard?" Meredith's voice is uncertain.

"What?"

"Isn't it possible that…maybe she burst an aneurysm?" I turn to look at her, about to protest, but she rushes on, "Remember that patient…the first one we ever worked on together." She stops, seemingly flustered at the use of the word 'together' in any context to describe the two of us. "Katie. She…she was seizing. A lot. And she had burst-"

"An aneurysm." I stare at her. "We'll need to get an angiogram. It's worth a look."

Half an hour later, I'm looking at different results, and these aren't so blank. "You were right on the mark…look at that." I point at the hemorrhage the monitor's showing.

"She's lucky." Meredith comments. "To have caught it."

"She is…" I echo. I turn to smile at her, I'm so pleased right now, but the look of surprise on her face reminds me that this is Meredith, and I'm playing the wrong role at the moment. "Anyway. We better go tell the parents. We can operate later tonight."

"Not right now?" She asks.

I feel a flash of irritation. "No, the board's full. If that's some sort of interference with your social schedule, don't bother scrubbing in."

There's a pause. "Derek…"

No. No way are we doing that. We haven't been on first name basis for almost a month. "Are you in or not, Dr. Grey?"

She hesitates, and her voice is just uneven enough to make me feel guilt. "In." She turns and walks out and I wince. I know I'm being idiotic. I'm still with Addison, what right do I have to talk? But after prom, after the exam room….everything seemed possible, and everything that had been huge before didn't seem like it. At least to me.

Clearly, I had been wrong.

Later that night, she has in fact stayed for the surgery. Since it's the exact same kind (and on a girl the exact same age) as the first one we did, I'm bound to start thinking about everything, and how we got from there to here, and all the other introspective stuff.

During all this thinking back, it doesn't escape my notice that most everything that's happened between us has been my fault, and yet she never carried to kind of grudge I am. What that says about me, I don't really want to think about.

But it's easier to be angry then to deal with not being with her at all. Maybe if I keeps pretending that I hates her, I'll start to believe it, and won't have that desire and longing anymore.

I'm a dreamer.

It's late when the surgeries over, nearly three a.m. and in the scrub room afterwards, I'm feeling guilty from all this thinking (it does that to me), and being this close to her for the first time in weeks, I see how tired she looks, and how stressed, and how sad.

"Meredith…" I say this casually, pretending like its not the first time I've used her first name in a month. She turns to look at me, surprised. "You did good today. You saved her."

"Oh. Thanks." She smiles wanly at me, then starts to the door.

"Come with me to talk to her parents. You've earned it. You can be the one to tell them their daughter's okay."

She turns briefly. "I can't, I have to get home."

I'm guessing she's just blowing me off, a great return for all the hostility I've been giving her. She's no responding to the sudden change. "I want you to. Really."

I step closer and as she tries to leave, I rest a hand on her arm, gripping it gently. She winces and pulls back, glaring at me. "Back off, Derek. Sorry, I mean Dr. Shepard." The last words are dripping with bitterness. "You don't get to suddenly decide to get over your little tantrum and be nice so just…back off. And get over yourself. I really do have to go, even though you clearly think I can't stand to be around you another two minutes."

With that she's out of the room, and I'm left staring after her, feeling empty and lost and incredibly mean.

Meredith

I'm not sure what to make of Derek's sudden change of attitude, but I can't deal with that right now. It's past three in the morning, over two hours past what was supposed to be the end of my shift.

I get the locker room and change quickly, and when I glance at my phone I've missed two calls from Finn.

I sigh. I'm exhausted, and I want to go home, in my own bed, by myself. But I told him I'd come over. And I don't feel like arguing or dealing with his reaction if I didn't come.

I get to his house in twenty minutes, and he's waiting for me in the foyer. "Where the hell have you been?", he demands straight away.

"Surgery came up."

"You couldn't have called?"

I feel panicked for a moment, and the panic disgusts me. I shouldn't have to explain this; he's making me feel like a high schooler who's broken curfew. I was just doing my job.

"I was just doing my job. I didn't think I needed to check in with you for everything. My mistake." My voice drips with sarcasm and aggravation.

"Someone's defensive.", he snaps instantly.

I turn to go toward the kitchen. "I need something to drink…"

I'm feeling shaky and sick as I walk away from him. He follows me, as I'd known he would, and continues talking. "Surgery with Shepard by any chance?"

I open the refrigerator and see that the six pack of beer that I know for a fact was full yesterday is down to only one, and I wonder how many have been consumed this evening. I don't even know if he's drunk. I'm almost hoping he is.

My eyes go to the trashcan. Only one is on top. My heart sinks a little.

"Answer me!" He's louder suddenly, and he's come to stand right in front of me.

Telling myself I have nothing to be ashamed of, that Derek's one of my bosses, I answer as calmly as I can, "Yes! I was assigned him, and the patient had a burst aneurysm-"

He slaps me across the cheek, and my hand flies to cover the spot. I don't fall this time, but I do stumble backwards and lean against the refrigerator, chest heaving.

"When you do that, you call me! When you work with him late, you will always tell me or I'll assume you have something to hide!" He grabs my shoulders and jerks me back so the handle of the freezer digs into my back. My head snaps back a little and hits the cool metal, and I cry out softly in pain. "Understand!"

He doesn't seem to care one way or the other. He throws me onto the ground in a quick motion, then picking up the bottle from the trash can, throws it at me. I roll quickly over before seeing that it wasn't really going to hit me anyway. Still, shards of glass go everywhere, and I'm left cowering on the floor next to it.

Finn bends down next to me, his tone different. "Why do you make me do that, baby? Just call and we won't have to go through all this. Jesus, it's not hard."

He goes out of the kitchen, turning off the light as he goes.

I don't move, I stay there, lying on his kitchen floor, shaking, tears rolling down my face. I start sobbing, but I try to keep it quiet so he doesn't hear.

And for a moment, while I lie there scared and crying, all I want is Derek to somehow magically appear in Finn's kitchen, and make this okay.

I'm a dreamer.