Okay, so whoever is still with me, I am soooo sorry that it took me so long to post this chapter. My life has been kinda crazy, with school and the holidays and all. Hopefully everyone had a great holiday and I will try soooo hard to make sure that I don't wait this long to post again. I know I said that I would wait a little while and explore where their lives would go, but I decided to have just to where he found out and the tables were turned. If you are still with me, enjoy and I hope to hear from you all. Reviews and suggestive comments are always appreciated.

Without further ado... =)

Chapter 3

Her blood.

It was all over his hands, flooding out of a small hole in her abdomen. She lay limp, lifeless in his arms despite the faint pulse he felt on her wrist.

Panic.

It was flowing rapidly through him. Where had the shot come from? He didn't remember hearing a gun fire. Who shot her? Why would they shoot her? What should he do?

"Someone help!" He screamed. He was sitting on the floor towards the middle of the catwalk, his wife lying in his arms. All he could do was stare and panic inside. Stare. Panic. Stare. Panic. It was like a broken record in his head, playing over and over again. He was in too much shock. Nothing could have prepared him for this, not again. Not again, please not again!

He cradled her close to him and whispered in her ear, "Meredith, don't die on me, please…"

"What are you all doing? Stop standing there and do something!" They didn't seem to understand what was happening. They never moved, despite their Chief's cries. They were too frightened. Too scared to move in fear of getting shot themselves. They were all frozen like statues. He got up off of the ground. He would have to carry her to the ER himself. Her arms fell limp, and more panic hit. He moved faster, afraid she would die right there, in his arms.

His mind flew back to just years before, when he had to pull her blue, lifeless body out of the cold, icy water of the Elliot Bay. It always remained stuck in his brain, an imprint of one of the worst days of his life, one he would never forget. After all of his running and his mind racing, he finally reached the ER.

Panic evident in his cries, he screamed, "Someone help, please! She's dying!"

"Derek, what happened?" She stood in front of him, but he couldn't make her out through the blurriness in front of his eyes. He knew her voice though; he had heard it all too many times.

"She was shot, Cristina. I… don't know…who…why… I…", he spoke, through heart wrenching sobs. His efforts seemed futile, but he had to try. She led him to an open trauma room and called in Bailey and Owen. Everyone else just followed suit.

"Oh…oh my…" Bailey, in this moment, could not speak. One of her babies, one of the ones she raised, was yet again lying lifeless on a gurney, this time with blood coming from her abdomen. Her doctor mode flew into overdrive as everyone worked frantically around her. She was being stuck with needles. Blood was beginning to fill her veins to compensate for the severe loss.

Derek stood in the corner, panic shown on his features and tears leaking from his eyes.

"The…the baby…" It was all he could say, all he could think to say. They had to know she was pregnant, needed to know. And he needed to hope and pray that his wife and unborn child were okay. He needed it so badly right now.

Bailey immediately stopped what she was doing. She's pregnant? Since when? Oh God. Someone needs to get this poor man out of this room. He doesn't need to see this.

Bailey spoke her last thought, "Derek, you need to leave the room, you're family; you can't be in here".

Derek just looked at her.

"I'm not leaving. I…I…I can't, I won't".

"Derek…"

"Bailey, I can't. Not again. I can't leave her alone again. Not again". He spoke through sobs, trying to be coherent.

Owen finally spoke, hoping to move quicker. "We need to take her to the OR, now. She is losing a lot of blood. We need to give her and that baby a chance to live".

Fear racked his frame. No matter how hard Derek tried, he could not be sturdy in this moment, not now. They started moving out of the room towards the OR, leaving Derek in their hurried dust, leaving him to ponder his many thoughts. He began to wipe the tears off of his face with shaky hands. He could not cry, not right now. He had to remain solid, though his whole body told him it wouldn't be easy. He followed them, although they were a long ways away, and chose to sit in the gallery after what seemed like eons of movement. Against his better judgment, he sat there, watching as they quickly prepped her to minimize blood loss as much as they could.

He had no clue what to do with himself. Derek Shepherd; stoic, put together, all around stronger person Derek Shepherd could not hold his composure. He could not stop his mind from racing to the worst possible outcome; Meredith dead. He kept picturing it in his brain, which only made him sob more. He had to be strong. He had to figure this out. He had to be there for her, both physically and mentally.

He decided to make a phone call. He needed to tell the police what had happened, the shooter could still be around, lurking, waiting, looking for more people to shoot. He had no idea as to if he was still in the building, but as Chief, he couldn't take the chance, not at the expense of his hospital staff. After the police told him they were on their way, he paged the hospital. Lock-down. Nobody leaves, nobody moves until further notice. Until we know what is going on. Until I know what is going on.

He decided to sit back down and wait for the police to arrive. He could do no more until then. He carefully watched every movement of every last employee in that operating room. Calculated every step they made; every cut. He watched them rush more blood into her body. One tiny hole had caused so much damage, so much loss. Her blood still clung to his hands, his shirt, his pants. But, it was now dry. He would never wear these clothes again; never get the images of her blood on his hands out of his mind. Ever. Again.

How could this have happened? Who could have done such an awful, cruel thing? Why? Of all people, why her? Why his wife, why now? He tried to process his never ending thoughts, but one seemed to overlap the other. He could not process anything but the fact that his wife was possibly dying. Dead. That his baby, his baby without a name, his unborn baby, the one he had always dreamed of, could be dead as well. He could not think of anything else, and it frightened him. To Death.

Derek heard footsteps come through the door behind him. Someone sat behind him, though he didn't bother to look; didn't really care who it was. A strong, firm hand gripped his shoulder, the touch showing nothing but sheer sympathy. Mark. Mark was in the room behind him. He must have heard what had happened. Maybe he saw it on the OR board. And yet again, he didn't really care that much. Mark would sit there silently if he had to, just his presence showing support.

"Dude", Mark spoke, breaking the somber silence between the men who considered themselves brothers, "What happened?" It was a question that, unfortunately, Derek just did not know the answer to.

"I…I don't know, I really don't. I didn't even hear…" A gun fire. He hadn't heard it go off. Guns were really loud when they were fired, how is it that he didn't hear it? He had learned that when he watched a man kill his father, so how is it that he didn't hear the gun shot that nearly killed his wife? He just didn't understand. He knew there was an answer, somewhere, but it just would not come to him right now. Maybe it would later.

Her vitals began to drop.

His heart dropped in his chest. He got up from his seat, away from Mark's hand, and stood up against the glass. He heard everything over the intercom. He heard them say her vitals out loud to Owen, reminding them of her declining condition. The amount of blood loss was too much trauma on her body. No, no, no, no, this isn't happening. Please, not today.

"Someone page OB, now! We need someone to check on this baby!" Owen shouted loud enough so the whole hospital could hear if they were paying any attention. He had done so many surgeries like this, unfortunately. But, never with the husband and father watching his every move. Especially since that man was not only his boss, but his friend. The woman on this table was loved by so many, including the woman he loved. The one he truly loved. And yet, no one seemed to love her more than the man watching, dark blue eyes filled with tears, his face filled with panic.

Derek saw with his own eyes as her heart rate was rapidly declining. One tiny little piece of metal had done so much and now the only thing he could do was pray. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the glass, attempting to breathe as he continued to listen to everything that was happening below him. His eyes remained closed as he heard an unknown doctor, a voice he had never heard and could not put with a face, someone who worked for him but he had never met, enter and ask what was happening, why she was paged away from her other patients. Owen explained the situation to her and her sneakers squeaked a little on the tile floor as she moved quicker to the table.

And then he heard it. Something he never wanted to hear ever in his life. The bullet, the one that had pierced through his wife at an alarming speed, had also affected his baby. The baby without a name, the one he had already become impatient to meeting, the one he had dreamed of for so long, was dead. And was now a risk to his wife.

His eyes opened.

He looked down under him, a tall woman with medium length, straight dark hair and deep brown eyes looked up at him, nothing but sheer sympathy written all over her face. His eyes began to swell and redden even more. Her face said it all. She knew he heard him.

Now all she had to do was her job, to help this woman stay alive by taking the baby that was now a risk to her out. She hated this part of her job. And now she hated it even more because this poor woman's husband, and her boss, had to watch her do it. Take away something they had come to enjoy and look forward to. Something they tried so hard for. And within a day of knowing it was real, it was all over.

Derek wasn't sure if he could watch any longer. He knew he had to be strong, a stronger man than he was being right now. But this whole day hit him like a tidal wave, at first seemingly harmless and normal and then BAM! It all comes rushing in at once.

He began to slowly pace back and forth, Mark still watching his best friend fall to pieces in front of him. Shortly after, the phone rang. It was the police.

"Hello, is this Chief Shepherd?"

"Yes…yes it is." Derek spoke, though he wasn't sure how he came to speak coherently.

"Okay. This is Sergeant Hancock with the Seattle Police Department. Can you tell me what it going on there?"

"Honestly, sir, I have no idea. I didn't hear the shot. I didn't even know anyone was shot until I stepped out of my office to see my wife…", he choked at the thought, "Dr. Meredith Grey, falling to the floor halfway across the catwalk. I don't know who did it. I can't even think of anyone who would want to do this. The hospital is on lock-down, so if anything else happens I will know".

"Okay, I'm outside the front entrance accompanied by a few squad cars, just to be sure. I haven't called SWAT yet because I want to be sure what is going on first. Can you tell me where you are? Anyone with you?"

"Um…I'm in the gallery…OR 1. Another doctor, Mark Sloan, is up here with me, and a team of doctors in the OR below us…they're operating on my wife, sir…" He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. He needed everything to be ok, for this day to have never happened.

"Okay, I'm coming up there now. Don't move. We are going to canvas the hospital and see if the shooter is still here. Are you sure you didn't see anything?"

"Okay…No sir. I didn't see anything, didn't even hear anything." He felt like he failed his hospital, his wife, for letting something like this happen without his knowledge, right under his nose, causing everyone's safety to be compromised. At this moment, he felt weak and powerless.

"Okay…okay. We will be there shortly. Hang tight Dr. Shepherd". Sergeant Hancock realized that his men, including himself, had a lot of work to do, very quickly. The job never seemed to be getting any easier.

"Okay…Bye". Both men hung up the phone. Derek moved back to his chair, needing to take a breath or two. Everything is going to be alright. Just. Breathe.

He rested his elbows on his knees and his hands sank into his palms, resting there, no energy left in him to even hold up his head. He ran his hands through his hair, still struggling to breathe, to pull himself together. His face felt sticky and hot with the leftover tears and his head began to hurt. Can't I have one normal fucking day in my life anymore? Please, just one.

Time passed without thought.

They had been operating for what seemed like eternity. Hancock still hadn't shown up yet. He sat there still, in silence, nearly forgetting that Mark was still in the room. Then again, where would he go?

Derek jumped a little at the sound of a new voice and footsteps until he turned and saw the older man wearing a police uniform, another officer standing behind him, most likely his partner. He stood to greet the man in the doorway and saw Mark had already done so and was back to looking at the OR below. Derek tried to take his mind off of what was happening below, although it didn't seem to work.

"Hello, you must be Sergeant Hancock. I'm Derek Shepherd." He reached to shake his hand and feebly looked the man in the eye.

Sergeant Hancock returned his gesture, introducing himself while shaking his hand. He could see that the man in front of him was having a very long day. He had to do everything he could to reassure him that things were running smoothly, but he wasn't sure it would help much. This man could possibly lose his wife, and watch it all unfold in front of him. He felt for him.

"Okay, Derek, let's sit. We have to talk. We canvassed the whole hospital, but there seems to be no sign of a shooter. Everyone is returning to business as usual."

Derek was baffled. "What do mean business as usual?" He was now furious, unable to control his raging emotions. "My wife was shot, currently near the brink of death, and you are telling me that there is nothing left to do here?" How could they do this?

"No, no, no. Dr. Shepherd, we are no where near done with this. But there is nothing left to do here, in this building. The person who did this must have come and gone, but they won't go unpunished. We will get this person." He tried to reassure him that they were not done at all, noticing the rising anger in his expression. "Now, is there anyone you can think of that might want to hurt you in any way, any enemies?"

"No…" he thought really hard, "No, no one."

"Are you sure? Any recent law suits or any patients or families threatening you in any way?"

Oh…"Gary Clark..."

"Who is that? What did he do?"

"He is suing us for the death of his wife. He thinks I killed her. She had a massive stoke after a routine operation, a huge bleed in her brain. She was brain dead; there was nothing more we could do. I can't believe I didn't think about that before… But, wait, how is it that I didn't hear the shot, I still just don't understand."

"That's a great lead…I will have to give that to the detective…" He had a name, that could be their break. "It is possible that you didn't hear the shot because there might have been a silencer on the gun."

Again, another example of his mind not working. Of course there was a silencer because apparently, no one heard it. This is all coming together now…

"I'm sorry Sergeant; my mind is not really here right now. Do we have to do this all now?" He really needed to see what was going on with the surgery underneath them; it was driving him crazy not knowing.

"No, don't worry about it. I understand. I couldn't imagine being in your shoes right now. Here is my card. If you have any questions, any at all, please, feel free to call, no matter what time. We are going to figure this out, I promise" He needed to reassure the man in front of him, the man who was having probably one of the worst days of his life, that they had everything under control and that the only thing he had to worry about was making sure his wife was okay.

"Thank you so much Sergeant Hancock. It means a lot. I will definitely be in touch" It really meant so much to Derek that they were handling this; that he had one less thing to worry about. He let out a sigh, some tension escaping from his body.

"Of course", as he stood, he gestured to shake Derek's hand, "Good luck with everything. We will pray for your wife"

"Thank you" He shook the Sergeant's hand in return and watched as he exited the gallery. He returned his focus to the surgery, once again filled with worry over what would happen next. How long is this going to take? I'm not sure how much more of this I can handle.

Thankfully, it turns out that they were nearly finished and ready to close. Owen looked up at him, at Mark, nodding slightly to say that they were through, a look in his eyes of sheer sympathy at the loss Derek had just faced. The loss of a child.

His child.

He still could not believe it. He tried to hold off feeling it too much until he knew Meredith would be fine, until her surgery was over.

And now it was.

And now he let himself feel it. Really feel it.

He began to sob, hard, feeling like he never had before. He couldn't take the pain. The hurt of knowing that his child was gone. He couldn't imagine how he was going to tell Meredith; after everything, she would be so crushed. She was excited, just as much as he was. And now it was all over. He put his face into his hands as he cried, no longer able to hold any emotion back. He felt Mark's hand on his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze, trying to comfort his brother in his time of need.

He looked up at Mark, his face sticky and his eyes red from all of the tears he shed over his baby. It still didn't feel real, it couldn't be happening.

"Why don't you go down to recovery, I know she would want you there when she wakes up, especially now" Mark tried to reassure him that this would all work out and all he had to do now was wait for her to wake up.

"O…okay" It was all he could say; his mouth wouldn't form any more words, couldn't. Mark was right.

Derek stood up from his chair again and proceeded to walk down to the trauma recovery area. He could do this. He had to. He had to be strong. For Meredith. For her, he would do anything.

By the time he made it to recovery, she was already in a room. As he walked into the room, he braced himself. This was going to be tough, but he could do it.

He proceeded to enter her room; Owen and Bailey were the only doctors remaining in the room.

"Derek…" Bailey finally spoke. She motioned for him to sit in the chair they put next to her bed for him. The sound of her steady heart beat on the monitor gave him a peace of mind. She was alive, and he could do this.

Explaining everything to him was completely pointless. He knew everything that happened, from the moment she was shot until now. And he was a doctor himself, he knew what to expect. Both surgeons gave him a look and a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, and left. The room was now empty; quiet despite all of the monitors. He watched the slight rise and fall of her chest as the machine breathed for her. She was still intubated because of the major surgery that she had just had. Her body was rushed into things, and it needed some help.

How was he going to tell her that their baby was gone, that she was no longer pregnant? Just the thought of it made him quiver and feel sick to his stomach. He really wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. She needed to open her eyes, move her hand, something to ease his racing thoughts and endless worries.

He moved slightly to reach for her hand, the only thing he could do in the moment; or at least the only thing he could think to do. She still looked a little pale, her body still trying to make up for some much needed blood. Until she was awake, he would stay like this. Until she woke up, he would hope and pray and do all he could to help his wife, all while grieving for his unborn child that he somehow had to tell his wife no longer existed; a fact he still had to come to grips with himself.

No matter how long this healing process took, he would be there every second. This was the worse part of for better or worse. He loved her and he would do anything he had to, any and everything in his power to show her how much she truly meant and how much he loved her and how he would do whatever it took to ease her pain. Every fiber of his being that still remained was fully invested in the care of his wife, being there for her.

He could do this, he had no choice.