Free Failing

An Ode to the Hidden Face of Heath Ledger

2008-03-08T04:38:42Z

An Ode to the Hidden Face of Heath Ledger

This Wednesday night just passed, both of my parent's went to Sydney's Archibald Prize, as they do every year. For those who don't know what the Archibald Prize is, it is 'regarded as the most important portraiture prize, and is the most prominent of all arts prizes, in Australia,' according to Wikipedia. In fact, the competition (as such) is open to any one holding a citizenship in an country in Australiasia.

Any way... back on topic.

My mother came home that night, at 10.25, just as I was watching Carl Williams shoot his Italian counterpart dead on Underbelly, sat down next to me and placed her head in her hands.

This got my attention.

It turns out that the Archibald hadn't been as great as it had been years prior - not saying that the art was bad, just a little bit too artyz-fartzy for her taste. But in all her years of going to this fancy art gallery in Sydney, she had never been moved by a painting as much as one had made her feel this year.

'Heath Ledger' she spoke to me sadly, 'it's such as shame, Heath Ledger, how no one could have noticed'.

Being one of those many teenage girls around the globe who woke up on the 23rd of January (22nd of Jan for some) and whilst making a cup of tea, heard the gut wrenching news that Heath Ledger had died in New York (Trust me, that entire day the TV did not leave Sky News), something involving Heath Ledger was more inportant than a Gangland war that had happened in Melbourne years ago.

So, my mothers words naturally caught me attention.

I had heard through the media that an artist had taken it upon himself to pay tribute to one of our countrys most renown actors, but I honestly hadn't thought of it as anything else - just another person cashing in on the unfortuate tragedy of others. It didn't occur to me that it would have this kind of affect on my normally composed mother.

The painting it self is disturbing - theres no other way to describe it.

Heath is represented through three faces in the artwork, each with it's only hidden story. There's the guy we all fell in love with in '10 Things I Hate About You' . There's the man who tried so desperately to escape the crap that comes with Hollywood on the opposite side of the painting, whose dark expression is even more haunting than the colours in the background. Then finally, in the middle of the painting is Health. That's the only name I can give to him, Heath. In the painting 'Bright and Shiny Heath' and 'Dark and Twisty Heath' are whispering secretively to their counterpart Heath (sorry for the Grey's Anatomy puns, they just slip out).

I am not sure what it is about Heath that makes my chest fill with dread; it could be his brown eyes that are blank voids, the tired wrinkles that make his face look like leather, or his shirtless posture that just seems so... helpless.

In December, the artist behind 'Heath' (thats the actual name of the painting), sat down with Mrs Ledger and Heath Ledger over coffee and pikelets in Perth, to discuss the portriat. In December, a month before Heath's passing.

Yes - that is what makes my body shiver most about this painting, it was created a month before his dealth during a time when the artist himself described his subject as (and I quote), 'relaxed and happy'. According to an article on news.com.au, the portrait was orginally meant to depict one of the three faces as screaming - the very concept an idea of Heath Ledger's and scrapped by Vincent Fantauzzo (the artist).

"I guess it's the whispering, the voices, the frustration or something comical - all the different ways that we might be thinking in our own mind," Fantauzzo said.

Or that of Heath Ledgers.

It makes you wonder what the outcome would have been if the painting had been released the same month in which it was painted. Would the whole world slow down and try and pick up it's latest fallen angel? Would Heath Ledger be laying in some rehab centre off the cost of Spain instead of in a coffin six feet under.

If only.

And yet, we all know that isn't true. This painting, whose release was eagarly enticipated by it's subject was Heath Ledger's last testiment to this world, he knew what was going to happen; that all of that wasn't worth it, it's hard not to look into the eyes of the central Heath and hear that. I guess in the end, one Health was screaming louder than the other one was whispering.

Rest in peace mate, here's praying that where ever you are... that's it's everything you ever hoped.

The artist, Vincent Fantauzzo, and his painting 'Heath'.

Unfortuately, 'Heath' didn't win the Archibald Prize (neither did Neil Finn!).

'I Can't Break it to My Heart' preview

2008-02-29T07:40:08Z

Since it's been so long since I've posted anything, here is a preview of my latest oneshot. This hasn't been proofed so I big sorry for all mistakes, and this may change from the time that I'm posting this and when I actually publish the rest of the story, but I thought you might be interested.

Enjoy!

I Can’t Break It to My Heart

With a dull thud the glass of tap water dropped on to the bedside table with a soft innocence that made the whole transition smooth. It was still somewhat early, the night barely reaching 9pm but yet my body ached and my throat was strained with the weight of everything that had come and gone over the last 12 hours.

Gently with gentle ease I stepped over a pile of dirty clothes and reached out into the hallway, my hand resting against the reddish doorframe as I leant out of my room and pressed my fingers of the light switch that had sat in that very position forever.

With a loud snap the hallway brightened as the light flooded throughout the top layer of the house and I fell back into my bedroom. My finger lingering on the switch for a split second longer than it normally did; because this was a near nightly tradition for me. Whenever he worked later than me, the glass of water was placed on his side of the bed and the hallway light stayed on.

And tonight wasn’t any different, except for the detail that he wasn’t working and he wasn’t coming home tonight.

With a deep sigh, I slid my body gently underneath the bed cover and felt my back sink into the bed mattress that creaked softly with the added weight. And I lay there, looking back at the ceiling, not sure as what to do next.

The rub of the sheets felt raw and foreign against my body that laid victim in between them and the sides of my arms felt naked and cold as if they were exposed in a winter snow storm. It was as if this wasn’t my bed anymore that this room wasn’t actually filled with my things and this house hadn’t been my mothers. Everything felt distant and apathetic as the moon light shown discreetly throughout the house and exposed how empty and lonely it actually was. I never realised how lonely it felt, having no one next to you.

Desperately, I rolled over to my stomach and into the middle of the bed, searching and praying to remember the last time he had held me in this position. Panic started to rise as I thought back through memories, alarmed that I couldn’t actually remember the last time – the real last time he had held me as me and not just some customary thing after sex.

A shiver traced its way up the nerve of my arm as it was as if he was there, running his forefinger up and down my arm as he had lovingly done once upon a time. Grasping, I reached outwards and pulled his pillow down to my chest, cradling it closer into my chest, allowing the distant though present scent of his cologne to tickle the tip of my nose. ‘His coming home’ escaped my lips.

Musing about Fics

2008-01-05T11:50:09Z

I am going to finish this chapter (MIS 22) tonight. I swear I am. It's not like I haven't made a decent dent in the chapter (1,603 words and five pages isn't bad) in fact theres only 1.5 plotlines that need to be written for this chapter to be complete.

So why is this getting so hard to write?

I know what I want to do and I know what I'm going to say I just... don't feel like writting. Currently the only type of writing I felt like doing is the far too emotional stuff which I know is due to it being New Years and prolonged grieving, but I dunno, I just don't feel like it.

I could be that the late sleep ins, late nights and housework-as-the-only-exercise of the holidays catching up to me or the sheer fact that I'm a lazy ass but I just can't bring myself to writing anything but this.. and now I'm annoyed that I'm writting this instead of writing my update when absolutely no one is reading this and a few hundred people are going to read my update.

I think I'm getting bored with the story. I envy and admire people who can write 50+ chapter stories with 7,000 words each chapter. They are my cyber space heroes. I have a short attention span apparently when it comes to writing stories. And I was so excited about this one...

I have an idea for my next two projects though (lol, Lord help me). One is a two shot, set around 109 when Addison turns up (there both Grey's Anatomy btw) and the McMarrieds move back to New York leaving Meredith behind. The first chapter is about Meredith, straight after they leave and it's titled at the moment 'Burning Pictures' - giving you a pretty good idea what the whole piece is going to be centred around. The next and final chapter is Derek returning a year later and discovering that Meredith is gone. It's called 'Flame Trees' using the Cold Chisel song with the same title as inspiration.
My second idea, is a story with a 10 chapters max limit. My plan is to incorporate the messy oneshot that is my attempt at the 'I kissed Rose' convo which ends with Meredith leaving, and then she returns with a son. It's sad and the ending isn't happy, though it isn't bad either. I really want to start this one, which so far I have named 'Bare Hands', but that has been changing daily.

I don't know... I'll see how many reviews the next chapter of Moving In Shadows generates, then I'll decide.

I'm off to write now.

Oh! On a final note... Natalie Imbruglia and Daniel Johns splitting? Thats good material for the next Silverchair album, lol. However I doubt that Britney Spears will make anything else but lost custody of her children out of her hospital visit... so much material waste... does that girls honesty know whats shes got? Nah, I don't think she does either.

We Didn't Do It 2/10

2008-01-03T22:47:08Z

‘We Didn’t Do It’

Summary: Cristina’s bored and needs entertaining. In comes Alex, who after a pay off, agrees to play one innocent little prank on Meredith. What they both didn’t count on was Meredith’s plan of revenge, which can only insure a prank war like no other prank war.

Meredith Grey was furious but she wasn’t going to let that consume her. One of the things she had learnt as a child was that anger was a powerful thing when it was focused on to one thing and that one thing for Meredith was teaching Alex a lesson.

How dare he do that, and in front of her bosses, one of which was her boyfriend. Seriously, condoms? What a pervert!

Bailey had clicked her tongue and Mark and Derek had just laughed. That of course had resulted in Mark offering her a way to relieve her bent up ‘horniness’ and Derek stopped laughing. He left his comments until the next time he had seen her by herself.

Even though her cheeks had permanently flushed a tomato red, Meredith Grey wasn’t going to give Alex the satisfaction of her embarrassment. She was going to get her revenge and it didn’t take her that long to form a plan.

All it took was a quick trip to the nearest supply closet and a stroll down to the patient pharmacy.

Moving along the small aisle she saw her object desire a foot away and could barely contain her excitement. As she was paying for the small bottle of Nair something caught her eye and Meredith couldn’t believe it. This was almost too good! Now all she needed was the wait for the perfect time.

That time came during her lunch break. Alex had been on call the night before so he was asleep in one of the on call rooms and Bailey had just offered her the reason she needed.

Making a pit stop to the ladies room, she filled the bucket full of cold water and slipped out and quickly into the on call room.

Alex was alone, snoring his head off on the bottom bunk. Bitting her lip to prevent any noise from escaping her, she tiptoed up to him and poked him softly in the arm.

Nothing.

Gaining more courage Meredith poked him again but this time harder.

Nothing.

Doing it for the third time, just in case, Meredith poked him with the sharp part of her nail in his chest.

Alex snored loudly but that was it. Asshole.

Pulling out the bottle of Nair, Meredith opened the lid and placed it over Alex’s right eyebrow. She was doing him a favour; he did after all have very hairy eyebrows.

Pressing down on the bottle, foam softly formed over the hairy eyebrow and fizzed as it connected with his skin.

No response from Alex.

Placing the cap back on the bottle, Meredith read the instructions,

Nair, Hair Removal; leave form for 10 to 15 minutes for hair removal, do not exceed 20 minutes. Rinse to remove.

15 minutes she waited, keeping time on her watch. Finally time was up and after checking that all evidence had been removed she picked up the bucket and dumped the cold water over Alex and the bed.

Jumping in fright, “What the…?” was the reaction she got until he realised what happened.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Alex roared furious.

Keeping her face neutral Meredith simply replied,

“Bailey asked for you twenty minutes ago, it’s not my fault you snore loader than a sailor. That was my last resort” before she turned and left him there soaking wet.

She didn’t even try to cover the smile that broke out on her face as she walked away from the on call room. Part one; complete.

“Twenty minutes I have been waiting for you Karev, and why are you wet?” Bailey questioned her intern, pissed that he had ignored every single one of her pages and even more pissed that he was standing there dripping water all over her surgical floor.

“You know what, I don’t want to know. Change and then scut”

“What? I was on the Anker case, that’s not fair he’s having surgery this afternoon, I was scrubbing in!”

“Well next time I page you’ll come faster then wont you” she sneered, knowing something was different about him, but not saying anything.

With what was such a lousy prank Meredith had still managed to get him kicked off a case, a surgical case which was something that had taken him 3 days to finally get.

God she angered him.

Peeling off the damp clothes, Alex threw them into the waste bin and picked up his spare pair of scrubs. Thank god he had brought in a spare pair otherwise he’d had to steal from O’Malley.

His pager went off and Alex walked out of the locker room, absent-mindedly wondering if his scrubs were always this itchy.

Wait a second, his skin was on fire. Jamming his hand down his shirt Alex scratched his stomach in hope of relieving the itch. Then his back started burning, then his arm and then his bum. Oh dear god.

Jumping strangely Alex barrelled into the nearest bathroom, ignoring the disturbed looks from everyone in the hallway.

Within a second his shirt was off and next came the pants. Dragging them down to his ankles he heard the door open and turned to meet the shocked face of Addison Montgomery.

Her eyes rolled back slightly and started this flickering thing as she stumbled over her words.

“I… Oh god, I’m so… thought… ladies…. Bathroom, oh…. God”.

Alex’s face burned as she ran out and left the door flapping. Looking around he took in the lack of urinals and the sudden appearance of sanitary napkin dispensers stuck on the wall.

Of all the rooms in this hospital to run into and rip his clothes off he had to jump into the women’s bathroom.

“Karev?” came Addison’s small voice from behind the door.

“You do realise that this is the women’s bathroom, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do” he replied, his blushing growing brighter as he stood, no top and pants down to his ankles naked.

“How long do you think you’ll be? I really need to go”.

“I think I need a moment” he yelled back at her.

Hearing the clack of her heels die down, Alex stared at the heap of pale blue scrubs on the floor and looked into the mirror. That’s when his lack of right eye brow caught his attention.

His skin was red and irritated but not one single strand of hair remained.

Kicking the wall was sudden anger, he screamed,

“This is war Grey!”

We Didn't Do It 1/10

2008-01-03T00:09:07Z

‘We Didn’t Do It’

Disclaimer: If I owned Grey’s Anatomy, there would be none of this spin off talk and Derek would have joined Meredith and the rest of the tequila pity party. So by now you should know that I’m not Shonda Rhimes. Story title is course named after a song and that song is ‘We Didn’t Do It’ by the ever talented Tegan and Sara.

Authors Note: This is by no way a romance story between Alex and Meredith, it’s an intern story.

“You have no idea how much I would kill to have a semi-trailer run into a something big and possibly flammable at this very moment” Cristina Yang announced to the entire resident locker room.

Necks bent as soon as the words reached their ears and Cristina was met with equally shocked and repulsed faces.

“You are one twisted chick, Yang” Alex Karev told her, chuckling.

“Shut it, Evil Spawn. Hasn’t the mother ship abducted you yet?” She replied as Cristina stretched out on the bench, kicking George O’Malley out of the way.

He stumbled, slightly pissed but too tired to care.

“You’re extra grouchy this morning, why is she extra grouchy this morning?” he asked Izzie, who just shrugged her shoulders in disinterest.

“She didn’t scrub in yesterday” Meredith told him quietly. Realisation crossed his face was he muttered an ‘oh’.

“It’s not just yesterday, but the day before that and the day before that. For god’s sakes this hospital has been quiet for too long. It’s not natural” she huffed again, making Izzie laugh.

“I swear I will kill you and take your money at the same time if you don’t shut up Barbie”.

In response Izzie glared back and started a quiet conversation with Meredith, with George intently listening without them even noticing. Cristina catching on that the three other interns were no longer interested in her surgery deprived self; she casually moved over to Alex, the answer to her increasing boredom formed into her head.

“What do you want Yang?” He questioned her tiredly, her antics wearing him down even though their shift hadn’t even started.

“Look I’ll give you one hundred bucks to entertain me” she said dryly as if it was a completely normal thing to ask someone.

The humour was not lost on Alex laughed and told her that did she expect him to do it.

“Come on, one harmless, even innocent, little prank. Its easy money and you can even pick your victim”.

Alex paused and considered his options; the last few days had been the boring and the furthest thing to eventful and the idea of making a fool of one of his fellow interns in front of everyone and then placing the blame on Yang was very tempting…

“$200 and you have a deal”.

“Fine” Cristina begrudgingly agreed as Alex held out his hand.

“You’ll get paid after you do it. So who’s going to be your victim?”

The pair turned to watch the three other interns who were all casually conversing with their heads in their lockers.

“Well not O’Malley because he’ll go running like a baby, the little hot head. Izzie would be pissed and maybe even threaten to hurt me, Grey would do them same, the only difference is that Izzie can actually follow through, Grey’s all talk” He reasoned out load, sizing each of them up with a somewhat smug aurora about him.

“Reminds me of someone I know” Cristina muttered, crossing her arms over her chest knowing with every fibre of her body that Karev had no idea what he was getting himself into.

“So what’s your plan” she asked him, leaning against the lockers as he opened his locker and replied,

“Simple” and with a smirk and pulled out a fistful of condoms out of his locker and closed it.

Casually he walked up behind Meredith, who was now dressed in her light blue resident scrubs with her white lab coat, and dropped the condoms carelessly in her pocket (and on top of her stethoscope) and moved back to Cristina, his smirk wider than ever before and his face also a shade redder.

“Congratulations you aided her with enough protection to have a week long marathon with McDreamy, so what? That’s not entertaining for me; in fact it’s slightly torturous”.

“Will you just shut up and wait, just wait and you’ll see” he finished as Bailey walked in the locker room and herded them off to begin rounds.

One case of excessive hiccups and a post-op patient later Bailey and her interns shuffled into Dr Sloan and Dr Shepherd’s pre-op patient’s room to be greeted by the male doctors themselves who were acting friendly but clearly keeping their distance from each other.

Both looked uncomfortable in the presence of each other that it was a relief to see Bailey and her interns; it meant that their torture was nearly over.

“Grey, what have we got?” Bailey barked in the only way that Bailey could and Meredith moved into action. At the back of the group Cristina and Alex stood on their toes knowing that the moment she reached into her pocket was the moment that the shit could potentially hit the fan.

Meredith rattled through the patient’s notes, pointing out this and that, the case it self wasn’t that interesting except for the fact that it included brain surgery with the assistance of a plastic surgeon, besides that it was all details.

“Dr Grey, do you think you could perform the exam on Miss Stanton?” Sloan asked her as George’s head found it’s way to Izzie’s shoulder as he dozed of slightly from boredom. Behind them Alex and Cristina increased the blood flow to their toes by forcing themselves higher into the air, the beat of their hearts were erratic with anxiety.

This was it.

Meredith nodded her head and reached for her lab pocket. Alex and Cristina couldn’t breathe as in slow motion Meredith’s hand went in her coat pocket and the next second the sound of light plastic sputtering on the floor was heard through out the room by everyone except for the patient; who was oblivious to the whole thing.

George loudly as he woke to Izzie’s surprised giggles.

Cristina and Alex at first laughed out load to then try and contain it with muffled giggles that could only be heard when it hit a high not and came out as a kind of choking sound.

Bailey’s eyes hadn’t moved and Sloan muttered a ‘dude’ as he laughed and even McDreamy himself chuckled slightly.

Meredith’s cheeks blazed red as she realised that she had dropped something, but they were on fire when she realised what they were. She shot her head up and met Alex’s eyes that were smirked at her and in an instant it all clicked.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what the narrowing of her eyes nor the glare she shot at Alex meant.

‘You’re dead’.

Santa Claus and Spastic Computers!

2007-12-25T11:26:25Z

Hey Everyone,

first thing is first... MERRY CHRISTMAS! I hope you are all having a wonderful Christmas!

Umm, so the reason I have dropped by is to tell you that the update is coming, actually I have been working on the update for this story and also the last chapter for my other story that has gone months without it's last chapter.

In fact, they would have both been done by today - that was the plan - until my parents suprised me with a laptop... yeah a laptop, that has Vista on it! And so all the other computers in my household have XP, and our network doesn't appear to like Vista... so I have no documents on my computer, in fact after nearly 12 hours, I've just gotten the internet. So the update is coming, in fact it's so finished that it's two chapter merged together with just the finishing touches to finish it off, it'll just be up when it's on this computer... not my older one thats just gone spastic!

Happy holidays... thanking for sticking with me!

Babs.

Dizzy - Oneshot

2007-12-16T01:38:01Z

Dizzy.

Title:
Author: Babiblubliss
Pairings: Meredith/Derek
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Up to 411 Crash Into Me Part 2... minor references to speech, that's it.
Summary: It was their dance; the self destructive torture they inflicted on each other and themselves when there was nothing left to do. Except there was everything but nothing they could do.

Another low of cold hair danced around the nape of his neck, sending a tsunami of goose bumps tingling throughout his body. The mixture of the prickly sensation and alcohol left his body feeling like an empty vessel that was soon filled with a hum as the alcohol reached his blood system.

You close you eyes and kiss your hand

A soft giggle touched his ears and he turned slightly to see her lean forward and gently lean her hand against his chest as her lips brushed his cheek. A small smile graced her lips as she waved goodbye to her friend, but that smile was soon washed away as her eyes connected with his. With a steady motion they both upheld the connection until another low of cold air pressed itself into the room and the moment was lost.

Then you blow it.

His body trembled once again as goose bumps spread throughout his skin, but the fuzzy sensation of alcohol soon returned the dull buzz to his body and he fell into another depressive lull. But something singed the back of his neck and he turned to see her drop her head and flicker her eyes away from him.

But it isn’t there for me, and I notice.

This was the game they constantly played. Stolen glances down the hallway and wishful aches when the cotton of their scrubs brushed as they walked past each other with repressive longing. It was their dance; the self destructive torture they inflicted on each other and themselves when there was nothing left to do. Except there was everything but nothing they could do.

If the choice was ours alone,

He continued to watch her, and she was well aware of it. He loved that about her; the way that attention made her squirm and suddenly doubt every fibre of her being. Her parents were to blame for that. She grew up in a world where attention was always short lived and ill received.

He hated that.

She was uncomfortable and he watched her as she says something to her friends and rigidly walks away from their table. He closes his eyes and feels her body brush against his as she hurriedly moves past him and towards what he knew was the door of the bar. Silent he closes his eyes and slips into the rhythm his heart creates as it pounds against his rib cage erratically.

Then why did we both chose letting go?

It always seemed that it was too hard. In their philosophy, as soon as the other shoe dropped; when suddenly careless conversations full of mockery and laughter turned into something more adult and silent, when everything turned painful and tense, that’s when they left.

Amicably they would fall out of it and then swing back into familiar patterns forgetting the past and suppressing everything until once again they were crushed underneath the weight.

And they both realised it, deep beneath the layers of avoidance and ignorance, the truth unsettled them both. But like most addictions, quitting didn’t appear to be an option.

Slowly he opens his eyes and drowns the last mouthful of his scotch. A blaze of fire sweeps down his throat and brings a fresh wave tears behind his eyes. Swallowing them down, he drags his tongue over his bottom lip and stands up. Pulling on his coat, he presses a note down on the dirty bar table and walks out of the bar.

Does it end like this?

The icy air assaults his bare skin, before he had even stepped out of the bar. Puddles of water cover the black asphalt and the wind ripples through the surrounding shrubbery as if they were naked figments of the imagination. She was standing there, her eyes closed, pressed up against the damp brown brick of the building.

His attention was immediately drawn to the slow and methodical rise and fall of her chest. The white glow of the street light bounces off her chest, cheek bones and nose and he stands there apprehensive, waiting for her.

She knew that he had followed; he nearly always did. It was those times when the light would shine confidently brighter, making the end of this decaying tunnel clearer. The times when he didn’t follow broke her a little bit more. It was a physical pain that engulfed her insides and rendered her useless, the pain that didn’t fade away until they were once again dancing their dance.

Time never had a chance to heal your heart

Steady she opens her eyes and watches him closely, as he slowly places one foot in front of another and moves softly towards her. Soft droplets of moisture fall into his hair, dusting a glittery shine through the velvet curls making her fingers cramp at the urge to brush them away. She always had a thing for his hair.

The heavy thud of his footsteps on the damp asphalt stopped when his body and her body only had a few spare millimetres between them. The white clouds of their breath tangled together within the air and dissipated in the street light.

They had been broken up for a month. The break-up sex had died its natural course and both parties had been finally left stripped bare and empty. They hadn’t been in this close proximity of each other in a month. But standing there it felt like much longer.

Just a number always counting down to a new start

It was always the unspoken words that had destroyed yet fuelled their relationship. They didn’t need to talk. Looking up at him, she knew this. They weren’t like other couples and the fact that his right foot kept shifting forwards and then backwards slightly screamed louder than any words he could whisper. His mouth opens slightly but the only sound made is a deep let go of air as the words fault him, she just stand there, her teeth digging their way deeper into her bottom lip as she waits.

Even in the times of desperation they always knew the truth, deep down. The lack of used air between them didn’t change it. He closes his mouth and re-evaluates his body structure, turning ever so slightly away from her as his mind works a thousand miles an hour trying to find the right words. A shriek of panic shoots through her body as she realised this and hurriedly opens her mouth in an attempt to prevent him from leaving. He turns to look at her, noticing this, but her mouth just closes to form a straight line. Leaving it all left unspoken. And his eyes darken.Is mot

If you always knew the truth

Someone else’s laughter broke the tense trance they had created, and they step apart as a seemingly drunk couple stumble out of the bar, too intoxicated with each other to notice their company. She looks at the ground as the couple continued their walk of shrieking laughter towards a taxi that had pulled up for them. He buries his hands further into the pockets of his black overcoat and turns away, waiting for the couple to go away.

With a final cascade of laughter the couple fall into the cab entwined together and the cab drives off, leaving the air empty except for the echo of laughter that seems to drag on both of them. She feels the bottom of her stomach grow heavy with dread. That used to be them. They had started off carefree and full of lust, excited by the prospect of a forbidden relationship with a mysterious partner. But now they were stably unstable and everything was moving passed them at a thousand miles an hour.

Then the world would spin around you

It made her head fell like it was going to explode with the pressure of everything. She didn’t want to be here, she wanted to be moving on the outside. But watching all the movement around her was making her dizzy. Her stomach felt ill and she had no control. She wanted to get back to what they were or just not back at all. Silence shifted around them, and he looks at her again and shuffles closer.

She feels herself pressed once more against the wall, sensing the damp bricks saturate the back of her top; she’d left her coat in the bar. He moved up closer to her with dark eyes and she trembles at the sudden heat of his body, ignoring the lightness that intoxicated her brain.

Are you dizzy yet?

The words start to form in his head. A long sentence of everything that he wants and most and importantly needs to say. He needs to do this, he needs to put everything on the table and just give her the honest truth, like he should have done the very moment he had followed her home.

He looks down at her and opens his mouth but the words seem the die with the way she was looking back at him. Her crystal eyes were cautious and he could tell from the way her body was rigid and protective that she was bracing herself for what she knew was going to come. If only he could just tell her.

Respectfully, some honestly I'm calling out

He stands there silent and she feels herself losing it even more. Why did they always do this? Why couldn’t he just say it? Because she knew he wanted her, she wanted to. For once, in the whole fourteen, nearly fifteen months that they had been doing this dance, she just wanted to know the blunt truth. She wanted to hear the conversation they never had. She needed to feel some sort of firm ground underneath her feet, whether or not it included him standing with her, or with another woman.

But standing in the artificial light of the street lamp, she knew he wasn’t going to talk. And he knew that she wasn’t going to talk. They weren’t going to talk. Yet again the distance they need to travel for too much of an effort.

Do you hear the conversation we talk around?

She tilts her head away from him softly and leans off the damp brick wall, closer to him. Instinctively his face drops down to hers and she lets him. The light drizzle of rain sprinkles their cheeks and slowly their noses brush and the physical touch shocks her into moving away from the embrace. Her face was conflicted and her chest pounded as she once again looks up at him. After a fleeting second, she looks away and brushes his shoulder as she moves away.

Back away to the safety of a quiet house

Caught in confusion, he barely thinks as instinct encourages him to grasp her arm as she moves away from him. He wasn’t going to let this chance slip him by. A month had gone by without anything and another month wouldn’t result in anything that could be remotely considered progress. In the current stance, progress was a smile, but they were standing here in the cold, wet night, as broken as they were a month ago.

Here was a chance, their chance.

Tugging gently on her arm, his chest constricted as he waited for her to turn around. She wasn’t resisting and she could feel him trying to pull her back. Tears trickled against the lids of her eyes as she closed her eyes in an attempt to stop the stinging sensation.

She felt torn.

Her whole body aches for him in a way that couldn’t be classified as just physical and yet her mind screams at her to run, to protect herself from the pain she knew would come. How could they be in with a chance if she wasn’t even sure that she wanted it?

If there's half a chance in this moment

He tugs on her arm again, slightly more urgently than before and with a crumbling resolve she turns back to face him, his hand slipping down her arm, towards her hands, where their hands entwine. His eyes drop at the sight of her hand in his and something within him shifts.

He needs this.

The physical and emotional turmoil would all be worth it, because he needs it; the sudden wholeness he feels. Looking up, his eyes meet hers and he saw the resistance building within them. Some sort of crumbling defeat was building within her and he saw it holding her hand, and he saw it when she pulls her hand away from his, turning her face so that it curls towards her neck and shoulder. He could see the tears tracing the outline of her cheek bone before she had shred them and he could see her walking away before she moved. She was giving up.

When your eyes meet mine, we show it off.

Without thinking of anything he moves forward and runs his fingertips down her bare arms and draws his face into hers. She shivers at the touch but doesn’t dare move as once again their noses touch and the hope of clear thought dies.

She lives for this type of muddle.

Sensing her unwillingness to resist, he drops his connection with her arm and lets his hands cup her face as he slowly moves in closer and kisses her lips. Her first response is hesitant but any resistance is soon lost as the next thing her hand is in his hair and he isn’t letting her go. They remain like that for a smaller second until she pulls away again and ends all contact.

A fiery blaze begins to dig into her chest. She couldn’t do this. Being dragged into something that could mean something but wouldn’t ever make it to something would be the end to all her progress. She was making progress, she was getting better. Returning to a relationship surrounded by living in a dream would ruin it all.

All talk and not a lot to think, we were living dreams

Even though the dream was everything she aches for. She isn’t the type of girl to dream of the prince charming who would save her from all her trials and tribulations. She was the type of girl who rolls her eyes at the concept and argues that she didn’t need anyone.

And that was the truth.

She didn’t need to prove to anyone that she could make it on her own, because she had gotten this far without anyone. She never needed or wanted anyone, but now she did; she wanted him. That was the dream.

And shame never crept close to our naked feet

Feeling her jerk away, he looks up with wild, confused eyes. She was slouched and her fingers danced across her lips as she looks back at him. He moves closer to her, but stops as soon as her eyes scream for him to do so. He can feel himself tearing apart. Mixed desires to push her but comfort her rush through him and start to collide. She wasn’t moving and frustration starts to creep over his skin.

If there's something left to lose

Why wasn’t she fighting? The thought breaks something inside of him and everything collides. The internal smash is beautiful and yet horrific at the same time. Inside him a million different voices scream at him in an almighty pain and nearly causes him gasp. The murmur of voices don’t die, instead one shout grows stronger and stronger until the only thing he can comprehend is that she wasn’t fighting. For him. She isn’t fighting for him.

His crumbling heart crumbles a little bit more. Turning his face away from hers, the sudden idea of looking at her seems to repulse him. He was still in this. He was still so fucking in this that it was tragic.

No amount of step sisters, simplistic interns, bubbly residents or direct nurses could alter the fact that he was still in this relationship; because he couldn’t move on. Even when he was married, he still couldn’t leave her to the extent that making love to his legal wife felt like a betrayal to his emotional wife. Emotionally he was married to her. No ring was needed to tell other women that.

Then don't let me wear out my shoes

He turns his face away from her and she feels physically ill. He couldn’t really be thinking twice about this. A warm passion clenches her heart making her cheeks flush against the cold wind. How dare he?

After everything he had put her though…

After all the tears she had shed because of him…

After he had made her fall in love with him…

He was going to turn away?

Using her pointer finger, she lightly pressed her soft hand against his exposed cheek but then quickly pulls her hand away when she receives no reaction. Slowly he faces her and once again another type of fear spreads through out her. Her mind seems to scream out and the ex-boyfriends words flew heavily against her heart, “he’s going to hurt you again”.

Deep inside herself, those words constantly followed her around. He had destroyed her, and then in a period of undeniable pain, confusion and helplessness he had left her. He was there, but he wasn’t. He had given her a shell of the man he was and maybe that was his self protection mechanism, but she needed him; and he had left her. He had told her that it was her fault that he was drowning because of her.

How did that old song go; ‘I can’t live with or without you’

I'm still walking.

With a shake of her head, he watches her fall away into the darkness. Once again the light catches the outline of her body and he was captivated. He loves her. Even the nights that he spent calling her every five minutes just to get a glimpse of her voice during one of her nights on call made him love her even more. Without a warning, he ran after her.

I tried, but it rang and rang; I called all night

Falling short, she had disappeared into the darkness and out of his sight. Maybe this was a sign? A distant sound caught his attention and a man talking into a payphone entered his small bubble.

The older man was struggling with what he could only guess was his lover as the shrill sound of his angry battles, bitter remorse and joyful exclamations of love filled the night air and disappeared into the wind, just like she had.

Calling wouldn’t do him any good. He knew that before he even tired it that she wouldn’t pick up.

On a pay phone, (remember those!) from another life?

Her whole body shook and twisted inwards as she felt herself losing the battle. She had walked away. It was the only thing she could do to save herself from another tyrant of pain. Her plan had been foolproof, except for the fact that her legs had walked herself straight to his car. Her car was still at the hospital.

Damp droplets covered her cheek and sourly, her hand pushed them away just as another fat droplet of rain landed on her cheek. They were cool against her cheek and if she closed her eyes tightly enough she knew that they could replace her tears.

He wasn’t coming, he didn’t follow her.

Another twist of grief rattles her body and her internal scoreboard of self worth points falls to the ground. It was ridiculous that a man should have this much control over her. It really was stupid. But there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she had given her heart to him the moment he had smiled at her over the operating table. If she didn’t feel so worthless she would have giggled at the memory.

If everything I meant to you,

He really wasn’t coming. That’s what she convinced herself. Even though she was sitting on his car, he wasn’t going to come back; not for her.

He couldn’t tell her about his dead grandparents, it was an effort to share what his favourite flavour of ice-cream was, it was too damn hard for him to sign divorce papers and it was unthinkable that he would hold her hand while she lay unconscious in a hospital bed.

It was all an effort; an effort that he didn’t want to deal with.

The rain started to drop harder from the sky, and her clothes began to stick against her warm skin. Leaning back against the car, she watches the little glimmers of wet silver drop from the sky towards the dirty cold earth. Some of it landed in her eye and the harsh zap of salt water stinging her eyes was all that she could comprehend. She had come back from him.

But he wasn’t coming back for her.

You can lick and seal then fold in two

Feeling that there was nothing left to do but go home, he starts to walk towards his car until the sound of a sob makes him look up and he catches sight of her, flat against his car bonnet in the rain. A blanket of relief covers his chest and the fact that barely three seconds ago he was resided to the fact that they weren’t meant to be wasn’t important.

Suddenly the only thing that mattered was the thrill he got every time he saw her hands work with his during surgery or the power he had to make her giggle crimson with bad jokes and pathetic pick up lines. The way that she made mockery one of his favourite things and the way she could make him physically ache with one look.

If she was really willing the let it all go, then she wouldn’t be here.

A small flame of hope burnt strong from within him but it soon distinguished as her small figure stood up from his car and stood tall in the rain. They always fell short to second thoughts.

Then I've been so blind.

Swiftly her arm was back in his hands and before she had time to think he had bundled her up inside his coat. Her wet body presses against his dry one and the heat radiating from him makes her temporary forget her own name, tighter he pulls her in closer, not once agreeing with how cold she felt.

Images of her cold limp body being swallowed by the unforgiving water surround his head, suffocating him. He couldn’t touch her afterwards. The physical agony he had felt pulling the white shell of the woman he loved out of the wet grave was the most painful thing he had ever experienced. Looking at her lay lifeless and white on a stretcher was permanently tattooed across his eyes leaving everything he saw tainted; hearing the sound of her heart flat lining on the heart monitor, it all haunts him. His fears leaked into every aspect of his life. It was a plague; a dark cloud had surfaced over him and nothing was the same.

Every time her breath caught as he laid beside her in the dark, his heart would go into overdrive, his mind would empty and his own breath would cease to exist until half a second past and her breathing had resumed.

Every time she failed to respond to him for the slightest moment the image of her floating in the water controlled him and he would be hovering; hovering over her, no matter how much she protested.

He was scared; oh lord he was so scared.

Respectfully, some honesty I'm asking now

But she never knew how scared he was. Nothing was ever verbalised between them and even her keen sense had failed to acknowledge that something had been bothering him. She was too caught up in dealing with her mother’s death and her near death and surgery and Susan and Thatcher and her best friends wedding; too caught up to realise his sad eyes, frustrating insomnia and lack of concentration.

She, however, noticed his disconnection. She had noticed that with every touch he flinched and pulled away a little more each time. He was doing what everyone else did around her. He was slowly pulling away and with each passing moment she lost him a little bit more. But everyone did this; as soon as something got hard they broke away and burnt whatever bridges they could in the process.

Her father had left her at five

Her mother had never really been there

And now he was.

Because agreeing to a breakfast date with your boss wasn’t enough. Because taking an entire relationship with a person who was a total mystery on faith wasn’t enough. Because forgiving him for keeping his wife a secret wasn’t enough. Because waiting for him while he tried to salvage his marriage wasn’t enough. Because picking him wasn’t enough. Because being herself wasn’t enough.

She wasn’t enough for him.

She didn’t feel like she was enough. To him she was just an intern he had screwed around with more than once. And she felt pathetic, being with him made her feel pathetic; because she didn’t communicate and she had issues.

Not that she ever told him this. Every single time he brought up one of her issues, she wanted to question his own. She wanted to ask him why his marriage failed, why he and Addison didn’t have children, why he didn’t talk to his mother, why he chose Neurosurgery. And she wanted the plain honest truth.

But nothing was ever verbalised.

Do you hear the conversation we talk about?

Instead of having the conversation they turned their reliance to the hospital and used the misfortunes of others to give some meaning to their lives. Because when you felt hopeless in your relationship, you felt hopeless in every single aspect of your life. But surgery numbed the hopelessness and paperwork was an outlet of distraction.

Surgery, paperwork and alcohol were safer because they were both scared. Underneath everything they both knew that they had some much to lose. They were standing at the crossroads of something more or the end and no one was willing to push them in either direction.

And even as they stood together, both huddled in his coat, sharing body heat and protecting each other from the rain, the fact that whoever was first to pull away decided the fate of their relationship weighed heavy on both of their souls.

Fight or Flight.

Back away to the safety of a quiet house

His arms felt rigid and forced as they pin her to his chest. They had gone too far, she knew well enough that there was no way they could go back to being ‘just friends’; too much had happened to make that status unbearable. All the pain, lust and wrong choices had brought them to their current state and once again, for the second time in merely minutes he was asking her to choose. She didn’t need him to say it. It was in the way that his body seemed to ache and yet feel physically repulsed at the same time that told her that it was up to her.

Another ball of dead passion grew in her cheeks and frustration soon followed. Why was he doing this? It wasn’t just her choice. He had made mistakes too. It should their decision not just hers.

A single fat tear escape the tight barrier of her eyes and formed on her eye. It felt warm and salty as it trickled down her cheek bones and rested on her cheek.

If there's half a chance in this moment

Around her something shifted and she looked up to see him looking back down at her. A harsh whip of air enters their tight bubble as his grip on the coat drops and his fingers instead gently push away the single tear, leaving a smudge of dampness across her cheek.

Over them a crack of thunder erupts across the skies and the rain thickens slightly around them. The heavy droplets of rain belt down on them, but they both just stand there staring at each other. His eyes were strong and she clearly understood what they were telling her. It was her choice.

“Put me out of my misery,” runs through her head and a white hot epidemic of resistance forms across her heart. She wasn’t going to drag them through another round of pain.

Looking back up him, she looks him back in the eyes and slowly shakes her head.

When your eyes meet mine, we show it.

Through the dark light, she sees his jaw instantly clench and his head tilts away from her. At first she doesn’t realise it, but it takes him slightly longer to remove his hands from around and the sudden absence of heat intoxicates her brain and blind panic unexpectedly takes a hold of her.

The concept of not having him becomes unconceivable as she is distantly aware of him pulling away from her.

“Put me out of my misery”

She was doing him a favour, he didn’t want this, and he didn’t want her.

“Put me out of my misery”

She was making the right choice. A relationship needed to have two people in it, and it wasn’t fair to him if he didn’t want to be in this.

“Put me out of my misery”

If letting him go is the right choice, then why does the image of him walking away from her in the rain seem so wrong.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this; they were supposed to get married, have children, build a house and settle down and grow old together. They were supposed to have a lifetime.

Deep within her chest something unsettled and a painfully twisted moan escaped from her lips. She needed to hear him say it. Memories of words he had previously said weren’t enough; he needed to look her straight in the eye and say it to her. She needed him to say it was nothing; the tears, the laughter, the pain, the anger, the love. She needed him to say it was for nothing before she let him go.

Oh, oh take it all back; take your first, your last, your only.

Shock spread throughout his body and he walked. His feet collided with the pavement, heavy and raw but he was barely aware of it. His mind was just numb and filled with everything she had spoken,

“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”.

She was scared. A bitter laugh started in his chest and escaped from his lips but it failed to reach his eyes as the laugh died and he wiped his eyes in frustration. She didn’t want to lose him, and yet there she was shaking her head as if it was nothing.

As if this whole thing meant nothing to her.

He stopped walking, and let his legs grow heavy and dense against the wet pavement. It was taking him every thing he had to just stand there. Every ounce of him was resisting the strong urge to turn back around and make her feel something about this relationship.

Because this thing they had was intense.

And if she didn’t feel it, he had to make her feel it. He needed her to take back everything she thought she didn’t feel. Because he knows that she feels it too. This kind of thing they have, it didn’t just involve him.

Oh, oh take it all back, take it all back,

As soon as it had come, the frantic clinginess faded and a wave of compulsive anger took its place. She didn’t want this;

He was the one who had pushed her to the point of insanity for her to go out with him.

He was the one who, even though he had failed to inform her about his wife, had wiped away her tears and promised to sign the divorce papers and then didn’t.

He was the one to follow her into the exam room.

He was the one to make her choose.

He was the one.

And now he was just walking away. No ‘if’s, ‘buts’, or ‘maybe’s.

He was the one to walk away.

He was the one that made her feel more alive, more loved more special than she had ever thought she could.

He had walked away.

It wasn’t enough that she had turned into the shell of the person she once was, but he was now leaving it all. She had shaken her head and he had accepted it. He had showed her how to be loved and how to love and now he was just leaving.

She hated him for it.

Everything you showed me.

The flush of her cheeks radiated against the cold rain. All she could concentrate on was the fact that she was angry. And how hurt she feels; she guessed that what was what she was feeling. It seemed that every part of her body had aches and pains. It was something that felt physical and yet you just knew that it wasn’t.

But then the rain washed it all away; and she just felt empty.

The idea of him coming back and kissing away all her fears or him ignoring her in the elevator tomorrow morning suddenly didn’t stir any feelings of nausea or hope. There was rain splashing against her skull but she… she just didn’t care anymore.

She was empty; vacant; unfilled; bare; blank.

It was… it was the rain spattering against her skull. That was the only thing she could feel. She didn’t feel upset that she had just broken up with the love of her life. She didn’t feel angry that he had simply walked away and she didn’t feel alone.

She didn’t even feel the rain now.

Oh, oh, this must be how it feels when the feeling goes

Turning on his heel, he heard the sputter of water twisting underneath his shoes. Water was flicked into the air and soaked the bottom of his jean pants. He barely registered it though, the rain was falling harder but he could barely registered that either.

From somewhere beneath his skin, a warm heat was being generated and the thought that his coat was too hot filtered through his head briefly. Suddenly the fact that he couldn’t see her through the thick rain was important. The idea of pulling out his mobile phone and calling her had been contemplated but then he just reasoned that she wouldn’t answer. She had just dumped him, why would she pick up her phone.

But he needed to find her, and not just tell her how amazing they were, but show her how amazing they were. Telling wouldn’t be enough. Before he thought that words would fix this, but had they really done any good? They had both ended up in the rain due to the words that had and hadn’t been spoken and nothing was unbroken.

His hot breath against the cold wind created mist in the sky, and his pace started as a walk; one step in front of the other. However, quickly the steps replaced each other faster as his heart rate doubled. The next thing he knew he was at a run, running the in the exact direction he felt like running away from not so long ago.

The sound of the rain soon died at his ears, leaving only the sound of his feet on the asphalt and his aching breath the only thing he was conscious of. Minutes started to feel like hours when her outline became visible through the pounding rain. His feet started to fumble against one another and he was a mess standing behind her before his plan of action had been concluded in his mind.

I told you as I hovered I'd never felt this way

She turned around to face him and the idea of just grabbing her and kissing everything away falls short. The look on her features told him it would just makes matters worse and his throat retracts and strains at the thought.

Maybe it was better just to leave it as it was. She was broken, he was broken; they were broken. Him pushing her to have another round at their dance, had the ability to smash all of their precious little pieces to millions microscope pieces that they would no longer be able to see. He didn’t want to do that.

But he missed her. Standing in front of her he knew that he missed her. But there she was, standing in front of him, drenched to the bone, but looking entirely fine. He had been wrong. His posture straightened and the arrogant air returned to him and he felt fine, and she knew that he felt fine.

You said "I had the shot that stops my clock, baby its okay."

She didn’t regret it. Even though her heart was screaming at her to stop lying, her head was calming placing the resolve in her chest. She loved him, and he loved her but that still didn’t make this right. And it wasn’t like he was that upset by it. Sure he had returned but his sad eyes didn’t look as sad as they were empty and his slouch wasn’t a slouch. He was okay.

And she had no regrets, none what so ever. The desire for tequila and a nameless man wasn’t her way of displaying regret; because if he was fine, then she was going to be fine too, fine with absolutely no regrets.

You said you'd never have regrets

He understood her, the instant her facial expression changed, and he could no longer do it. He didn’t want to pretend that he was okay around her. He didn’t want to hide the fact that he felt like his heart was bleeding or that the lining of his throat had suddenly thickened making it harder for the oxygen to fill up his lungs.

His stomach felt like a bottomless pit and his skin seemed to no longer fit him. He didn’t want to hide that from her or anyone else. Sudden he felt ass backwards and upside down. Did she feel the same?

His eyes traced the way her hands were held tightly over her waist and the way her teeth were buried deep into her bottom lip. Her face was vacant of any sort of emotion and he briefly wondered if she was trying to hold it all back too.

Everyone had regrets. Hell, he regretted a lot of things in their relationship, everything he had down to hurt her and bring them to the impasse they were at now he regretted.

No one was lucky to walk away from something without regrets. He didn’t want to have any more regrets. If he walked away from her he knew he would hate himself for it. He didn’t walk backwards all this way to add another regret to his list.

Jesus! Is there someone yet who got that wish?

Taking a small step forward, a pending question sat on his lips. His throat was strained and thick and the words just couldn’t be brought to life. He just wanted to scream, to yell, to do something to get rid of everything he felt.

He took another step forward, and they were so close that her breath danced around his neck. In shock, her eyes rushed to his face making him turn slightly towards her even more. The iris of her eyes had developed a new range of pain that filled the green pools and pushed out the emptiness.

He watches as she moves uncomfortably and avoids eye contact beneath the rain and can’t help but smile. She always chose to be the strong one. When faced with conflict and tragedy, she always put on a strong front. It was what other people saw. When they first meet, it was what he saw. Now, however, he knew better than to look at her skin deep. It was her eyes; they always told him what she was really feeling.

And he what he saw urged him to keep pushing.

Did you get yours? Babe?

He moved to move closer yet again, and she pulled back sharply, her movements rigid with pain and her breath heaved into the night’s air. It looked like she had been stung, the way her body was positioned away from him and yet the proximity of her body to his was still intimately close.

He pressed to move forward again and she backed off again, this time her eyes flashed upwards but failed to gain eye contact with him as he simply moved forward, ignoring her attempts to back away entirely.

Her cheeks flushed with frustration and once again her cheeks started to dampen with something more than just falling rain. Yet again he pressed forward, and before he had a chance to comprehend her response, her arms came falling out of the rain and he caught her ineffectual fists in shock. He pressed forward and gathered her in his arms despite her protests.

Respectfully, some honesty I'm asking now

Whispered words caressed her ear but she still struggles against him. Her movements become less violent and powerful with everything he whispers and large tears start to leak from her eyes, tangling with the rain that dribbles onto her face.

She didn’t want to hear all of this now. The pain, it was everywhere, and she couldn’t deal with it. Not now. Not when she had been so strong and positive that she had made the right decision. He couldn’t do this.

Another wave of tears floods from her eyes and he continues to hold her. The whispering had now stopped, but jumbles of his spoken words continue to pound throughout her head, all mangled and disfigured.

“Love you”… “Will never leave”

They seemed to taunt her and scream at her. Her mind was going haywire from everything though her heart was beating obscenely with the promise of exploding from happiness.

But she didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to get hurt again. That pain seemed to be the strongest. It attacked her chest and seemed to burry itself deeper and deeper like an alien parasite. It was eating away at her and he wasn’t listening to her. He never seemed to listen. Of course she was hearing every word that he lovingly whispered in her ear. But did he really mean it.

Do you hear the conversation we talk around?

Struggling, she managed to removed herself from his arms and pulls back to witness the hurt, yet determined expression on his face. Rain belted down against her, pressing her body towards the ground but she remains focused on his face, wishing like hell that she was at her home, with a door that she could slam in his face and a bed that she could hide in.

But what was the use of hiding. He was telling her to no longer hide, but what was she hiding from really? Him or what she felt for him? No, it couldn’t be something as corny as that. She isn’t that girl. She didn’t idolise him nor was she ashamed of how she felt. It was just the look in his eyes that scared her. It was what he felt about her that scared her.

Back away to the safety of a quiet house

Everything started to rush back to her. The feeling of him had always given her a great rush, but just a second ago she was over it, and now, she honestly couldn’t think of anything else but him. In the end it was always him who made her world spin.

And the effect that she had on him also made this whole thing intense. He had once told her that she unnerved him that she and only see could read him like a book and that that was amazing and yet forbidding.

In the sky, the rain seemed to lighten slightly and even though they were still extremely close; his face had become clearer from the misty night rain. His determined expressed had faulted slightly and he was no longer an arrogant surgeon who had nothing to lose but instead he carries the persona of a broken man who has everything to lose. The slouch had returned to his posture and her bursting heart deflated slightly at what she had done to him.

If there's half a chance in this moment

Timidly she took a small step towards him and he didn’t fail to notice it. His eyes were planted on her feet until he slowly glanced up at her and stepped forward. She counted the steps in her mind as one, two, three melted into fuzz.

His breath tickled her cheeks as around them the rain eased up more, leaving just mist that was only visible in the street lights. Gently, he raises his hand and pushed a loose strand off her face and his eyes finally meet her own. A smile erupts on to his face as he gives her the look that he always left for her. A giggles starts from the bottom of her heart and skyrockets upwards, breaking out through her lips and dancing in the wind.

Around them the cool night’s air swirled around them, moving further upwards towards the sky as a warm breeze filled the streets and the rain ceased to drop leaving everything new and healthy.

When your eyes meet mine, we show it off

]This song is ‘Dizzy’ by Jimmy Eat World. I highly recommend this song and the entire album to anyone and everyone.

It was exhausting writing this. The emotions run back and forth, just like they do in the song and even though it doesn't entirely stick true to the message of the song, I think it comes close and does suit the Meredith Derek situation well. And yes, this is a MerDer Oneshot. It orginally started out as an acitivity for me to practise writing more detailed and long chapters, but then it turned into something that captured my heart.

I hope it captured yours too.

Moving In Shadows

2007-12-15T11:31:26Z

‘Moving In Shadows’

Title: Moving In Shadows
Author: Babiblubliss
Pairings: Meredith/Derek
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Up to season two's 'Begin the Begin'
Summary: Season Two Story. Instead being sent home for breaking her eight hour work limit, Meredith is called in for Jury Duty, and doesn’t return. Five years later Meredith is tired of hiding. MerDer. Pre ‘Begin the Begin’.

Incomplete.

Chapters hosted on FanFiction.Net, if you have issues with reading the chapters please feel free to PM me.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Welcome!

2007-12-15T11:06:30Z

Welcome Everyone!

So after, well more than a year of writing fanfiction, I have taken the step of creating a LJ account. In all honestly, I have had this for a while but recently I've just felt the urge to do something with it.

So take your time - look around. My goal is to start posting things here regularly, starting with my current story and of course any one shots, drabbles that kind of thing. For any of my readers, you know I love comments, so feel free to comment with anything you would like to say.

But besides that I am thrilled that you've found this and I hope to see you around here regularly!

Hope everyone is in good spirits,
Mel xoxo