Author's Notes: I never thought I'd be writing GA fanfiction, but I am extremely disappointed with what Shonda & co. are doing to the characters -- especially Derek and Meredith. "Crash" part two was the last straw for me, so I sat down and wrote all the things I wish they would say to each other and then worked from there.

I took everything that's happened in the show and resolved it to my liking. I included other characters' storylines if I could work them into the point of view, but I deliberately ignored Bailey and her marriage troubles because it would have been a lot to cover. The story is told in first person, Derek or Meredith POV, but not always alternating. I don't label whose POV it is, but I hope I made it obvious within the first or second line in each section.

Finally, I hope someone reading this finds it as therapeutic as writing it was. :)

"I don't want you to date other people. It may not be enough for you, but I'm trying here so I don't want you to date anybody but me. That's it. Except, I'm scared as hell to want you, but here I am, wanting you anyway. And fear means I have something to lose, right? And I don't want to lose you."

There. I said it. I had to say it before I thought about it any more. If I'd thought about it any more, I wouldn't have said it and he would have kept bringing dates to Joe's and I would have had to imagine poisoning them but they'd be across the street from the hospital and it would have been pointless. So, I said it.

But now he has that look on his face. That look he gets when he's about to tell me something I don't want to hear, like "Meredith, she's my wife" or something, and I can't deal with that right now. Not today.

"Meredith." It's starting. I can't do this right now.

Before I even realize it, my mouth is moving. "Don't say anything. I'm gonna leave and you can say something tomorrow. That's progress, right?"

That didn't even make sense, but I'm walking away. I'm walking away because I have a date with Cristina and the bottom of a tequila bottle.

-----

There's a feeling deep in my gut. I think they call it guilt.

I'm not someone who's made a lot of decisions that led to feelings of guilt. You don't get to where I am by being a poor decision-maker. Regret. I've felt lots of regret, but rarely guilt.

So this feeling I have, the one that began after the moment with Rose was over, it's not familiar to me.

I could have scrubbed out right after I finished up with the surgery but instead I waited around so that I could speak with her alone. I was an ass, and she saved mine, so I thought she should know. Innocent motive.

Our eyes met, and not for the first time, I noticed how gorgeous her eyes were. Brown eyes. Not blue, or blue-green. And for a brief moment, I didn't think at all about Meredith. She kissed nothing like her, smelled nothing like her.

Maybe there is life after Meredith after all. Rose is difficult in all the ways Meredith is, but she's easy in all the ways Meredith isn't. Rose wants what I want, and maybe she'd even want it with me.

But now Meredith is in front of me, trying. She's trying to be what I need her to be, and I can't help but feel like I just cheated on her.

I want to tell her. I open my mouth to tell her, but she stops me and she runs away. I don't know if I should be thankful or angry.

I was going to find Rose tonight, find her and ask her if she wanted to get a meal somewhere. I wasn't going to suggest drinks because my last relationship started with drinking. But now I have this feeling in my gut - guilt - and I know I should just go home, read some medical journals and not think about Meredith or Rose.

The trailer is cold, and it's lonely. After a day like today, I want to be around people. Days like today, it's good to have friends. So Joe's it is.

-----

Mark, Dr. Torres and Dr. Hahn are throwing darts when I get to the bar. I scan the crowd and thankfully see neither Meredith nor Rose. Maybe not thankfully. Nevertheless, it's nice to shoot the shit with fellow doctors who've also had bad days and are all considerably unattached.

Unattached. The word makes me itchy. I haven't been unattached since... Nancy was right. I can't remember the last time I was single. Here I am, here I was always, running in circles around all the women in my life.

I want more. I need more.

I feign tiredness and Mark calls me a lightweight because I've only had one beer.

I get in my car and drive mindlessly to Meredith's.

-----

I'm feeling good. I'm feeling good and I'm dancing like an idiot and Cristina brought Lexie and I'm not hating it.

And I'm definitely not thinking about what Derek is doing right now, because that would make me feel not-good, and that's not what tonight is about.

Tonight is about stupid dancing and tequila shots and -- I think that's the door. We ordered pizza. The guy with the pizza is here. Good, I'm hungry.

George gets up to get it (he's so reliable) and I close my eyes and continue dancing, waiting for the delicious pizza smell to waft over, but instead I smell cologne. It's light, but masculine, and I would know it anywhere. I open my eyes to meet Derek's and he's smiling. I can't tell what kind of smile it is. I lost my "Guide to Interpreting Dr. Derek Shepherd's Facial Expressions" five shots ago.

It's not fair. It's not fair that he's here when I asked him for tomorrow. It's not fair that he's here and I'm drunk. So I do the only thing I can think of doing. I close my eyes and dance.

Lexie greets him because she doesn't know better. She's only gotten the abridged version of the Meredith and Derek story and I can't fault her for not knowing. He's taking his shoes off. I can hear them fall to the floor. Crap. I don't want him to come over here. I don't want him to touch me, because then everything will get all porny and I'll end up naked and I don't want to end up naked. Not before we talk, sober. Tomorrow.

I risk opening my eyes and I see that he's gotten himself a glass of wine. He's just sitting on the couch, watching me. Looking at me. Stop looking at me, Derek. Never stop looking at me, Derek.

He looks really good tonight.

Cristina bumps into me and I turn my head to look at her. She aims a dirty look at Derek but doesn't stop dancing and doesn't say anything. She knows better than to say anything. She understands, and that's why she's my person. Be it resolved, then, I'm just going to dance until I can't anymore and then I'll deal with Derek.

George seems pretty happy with the respite provided by another male in the house for him to talk to, so Derek stops being the creepy guy who sits on the couch and stares at me and I just dance.

-----

There are lots of things that we need to talk about. Lots of things that we need to say, but she puts her hand out and asks me if I'm coming up to bed with her. She has a smile on her face that means only dirty things and her hair is messy from jumping around. She knows I can't resist her like this. I don't know if I ever will find the resolve. Not tonight, anyway.

She leads me up to her room and the second I close the door behind me, she's on me. Our lips crash together, her legs wrap around me and her hands go into my hair. I lift her by the thighs and push her up against the wall. The blood rushing through my body makes me dizzy. This is why I'm addicted to her. This is what we're best at.

She's kissing me with an intensity she hasn't had since our first shot at break-up sex. It's never been like this with anyone else and I don't know if it ever will be. Her grip is so tight it almost hurts and I don't want her to let go. I kiss her everywhere I can reach with confined movements, which pretty much amounts to her face, her ears and her neck. I know which spots illicit this or that reaction. I know her body like I know the human brain, except there's nothing scientific about this. It's all instinct and mm and yes and the smell of lavender.

It's not long before we're in her bed, making enough noise to make it just a little embarrassing to make eye contact with her housemates tomorrow. We're moving like we need this more than we need air. I'm hurtling towards climax and I mentally go through surgical techniques to hold off but she's making all the sounds that drive me insane and when she meets my eyes, she looks at me with unabated desire. My control snaps. I slam her into the bed with little finesse but we're completely in sync. She's right there with me, flying off the edge.

We lie in bed for a few moments, still tangled in the bedsheets, listening to each other's calming breaths and not talking. I find myself wondering if she'll ask me to leave. I'm not really in a good position to drive, but if she wanted me to go, I'd find a way.

Last time we were in this situation, we joked about her snoring. This time is nothing at all like last time. But she stays silent, and eventually gets up to brush her teeth. I follow, and I don't know whether or not to be surprised that my toothbrush is still there. I don't comment though. It doesn't seem like a good time to comment. I look in the mirror over the sink and she meets me for a second before she looks away. I don't know how to read her right now, but I won't press her. She asked me for tomorrow, and I will give it to her.

We fix the sheets and get back into bed, like a routine, and she clicks off the light. "Goodnight, Derek," she says, and she turns away.

That's different. She's never said that to me on a night we've spent together.

And then I knew. The reason behind her passion the night we broke up and the reason behind her passion tonight. She thinks it's the last time.

Maybe she's right.

"Goodnight, Meredith."