It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

42.

Derek lay in the bed, staring off into darkness as Meredith's words echoed in his head. He had been waiting weeks to talk to her about all of the things that had been going on between them, he had waited patiently, standing aside as she ignored him, ignored his phone calls, refused to talk to him. He knew that it was a difficult decision that had to be made, and he knew that she wasn't sure of how to approach it, but he also knew that they needed to talk about it. Every time he brought it up, there was another excuse. His frustration mounted with each and every conversation that he had with her and their arguments were frequent and could get quite messy, and usually ended with one of them hanging up on the other.

He squeezed his eyes closed as he thought of the words that he had spoken to her, the angry tone in his voice, the mean and horrible things that he had said. He ran through the conversation before the argument in his mind, the joking, the happiness... then there was the pause in the conversation, and Derek remembered the tears in Meredith's eyes when she had walked back into the room... He remembered his mother's hand on her shoulder, and the sadness and forlorn look in her eyes when she looked across the room at him. She had tried to smile it away, tried to say that everything was fine, and when he asked her about it before he left, she hadn't made that promise. He needed to talk to her, he needed to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling, he needed to understand her, because there was no way to make her happy if he couldn't get inside of her head.

So when she avoided it that last time, all of the anger and frustration that he had been holding back for so long just made its way to the surface, bubbling over into a series of angry whispers that ended with his mother's angry face, and Meredith's broken soul. He had heard her excuses, and he understood that she had a long, hard day... but these issues couldn't be pushed aside any longer, and he had just had enough. He had accused her of not loving him, when what she said when she had come into his room just then, was that she loved him too much to be with him. He couldn't understand what she meant by that, couldn't understand how she could keep so many secrets from him, yet tell him that she loved him.

She had been brave though, walking up to his bedroom to tell him those things, she had been brave and soft, and not accusing at all. The guilt that he already felt in his heart was rising quicker as he lay there, thinking of the hurtful things that he had said to her, thinking of how brave she had been. He was proud of her, calling him on his anger and not running away. He was proud of her for standing up for herself, for them and their relationship. He was proud of her for not avoiding the argument, but for facing it for what it was, not knowing what would await her in the bedroom. He needed to tell her that he was proud of her. He needed to tell her that he was sorry for the things that he had said, and that he had no right to speak such angry words to such a sweet, sensitive person who had been putting up with his late night returns and last minute date cancellations. It wasn't she that was at fault here, and it wasn't himself necessarily at all. It was something that they needed to work out together, and she seemed like she really wanted to talk, to get this thought or feeling off her chest, this fact or issue that she was thinking about.

Swiftly, he sat up in bed, rolling from the mattress, he placed his feet on the ground quickly. He could feel the blood rushing to his head for a moment as he shook off the dizziness, stepping forward towards the door, he walked lightly as not to make a sound.

He opened the door slowly, stepping out into the hallway, he looked towards the stairs, noting that it was dark downstairs except for the Christmas lights. He walked lightly, his toes touching the floor first, followed just slightly by his heel, as he made his way to the top of the stairs.

He listened to the sounds of the clocks in the family room, and he listened for any other movement, talking, anything. Hearing none, he took the first step and cringed at the sound of the creak in the stair, trying so hard not to make any more noise, he crept slowly down the stairs making as little noise as possible.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, the nervousness in his belly was overwhelming as he closed his eyes and swallowed, sliding his feet across the hardwood floor, he slipped his way towards the family room.

He stopped in the doorway, watching her figure sit cross-legged beneath the tree. Her eyes were looking straight up at that little silver star that his mother had given her on that first Christmas. The Christmas lights danced off her face, twinkling their thousand lights down onto her, lighting her features perfectly beneath the looming evergreen.

He had no idea what to do. He stood there, entranced by her beauty. Her lips were pursed, her nose, wiggling just slightly at the scent of the fireplace burning out. Her hair was long and flowing, cascading delicately down her neck and back in perfect soft curls that he loved to run his fingers through. Her hair was much longer than it had been when he first met her, and he loved each and every inch of it, the smell and the silky feel of it, the way that wisps of it would fly across her face into her eyes, begging to be touched by his fingertips.

Her toes were wiggling just slightly, as they often did when she sat and waited for something. Derek had noticed quite a long time ago that Meredith couldn't keep still. Her body was always in some kind of motion, be it dancing around the kitchen to the music in her head, or tapping a pen against her nose while she studied for an exam. Her eyes were always fluttering, sleeping, awake, and she had a way of babbling about just about anything. But there was nothing that could compare to her laugh. Goosebumps arose on his skin when he thought of her laugh, her giggle, the way she would snort just slightly when he'd say something funny, or that full laugh that she would give when he would say something that surprised her. It was a loud, beautiful melody that drifted into his ears and sent off every sense in his body. The way that her mouth opened when she laughed, her soft pink lips showing off that beautiful smile that could melt his knees in a moment.

Derek had become so lost in his thoughts of her, that he hadn't noticed that she had turned her head to face him. Her eyes were now on his, and as soon as they met like two stars colliding in the nighttime sky. The first thing Derek had noticed, was that she had stopped. She had stopped everything. She had stopped moving, she had stopped blinking, and if it were possible, she had stopped breathing.

Her face held no surprise as he made no more movement towards her, still unsure of exactly how he would be able to proceed at this point. He waited for her cue.

Slowly, deliberately, and with no other movement, her hand came down and brushed the spot beside her, her eyes and face moving back to the Christmas tree.

He stepped forward towards her, kneeling softly onto the carpet, he sat beside her. He didn't dare touch her, he didn't feel that it was fair to her to make the first move. He was the one that hurt her, he wanted her to make the first move when she was ready.

He watched out of the corner of her eye as she slowly leaned back, lying her body against the soft carpet as her hair splayed across the floor, softly, delicately, framing her head like an angelic halo. "Do you want your Christmas gift, Derek?" She whispered, her voice was soft and delicate, like a newly bloomed flower.

He turned his head to look into her eyes, gazing into the fire of one thousand Christmas lights that danced across her iris. His eyes filled with confusion, and to that she reached for his hand.

Slowly, he lifted his hand to hers, fully expecting her to take it in hers. When she turned his palm down, and gently lifted her sweater, his brow furrowed. Gently, she placed his hand on her belly, his thumb resting across her belly button. He watched as her eyes spoke to him, her eyebrows gently raising as she squeezed the top of his hand on her belly. "Merry Christmas, Derek." She whispered, watching as slowly, his eyes widened in surprise, and delicately brightened. His eyes asked one million questions, or one question one million times as a smile slowly tipped the corners of her lips, confirming the answer to his question.

"Merry Christmas, Meredith." Derek whispered as his tears crested delicately over his eyelids and poured down his cheeks.

They sat like that for what seemed like forever, searching for the next words in their long awaited conversation as gently and melodically, the clock tolled midnight.