Disclaimer: I do not own Grey's Anatomy (sadly).

Author's Note: I'm not entirely sure about this piece of fiction. My feelings bounced between like and serious dislike. Since it's my first attempt at GA fanfiction, I thought I'd give posting a shot. Please, don't hesitate to tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is welcome as are any reviews of any sort. I hope you can find some enjoyment in it.

Where The Heart Is

Chapter One: The Secret
"You could hide beside me,
Maybe for a while.
And I won't tell no one your name.
I won't tell them your name."
Name- Goo Goo Dolls

It was more of a statement than a question, and it made her smile a little. Her fingers loosened around the neck of the tall bottle as she tipped it against her lips, letting the liquid burn its path down her throat. Swallowing tightly, she stealthily glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes and knew that she was just drunk enough to beg.

Looking away, she licked her lips. "So I like sex," she answered deprecatingly.

She heard him chuckle softly, like the answer amused him. He wasn't drinking, and she envied him that particular privilege, having tried several times to temptingly dangle the bottle of vodka before his face. Every time he would shake his head and burrow his hands deeper into the pockets of his black jacket.

The racket drifting from the nearby party did little to ease the migraine threatening at her temples, which was why she'd escaped in the first place. She hadn't expected to be followed by the one person who wasn't in the party.

"And you're going to have sex," he continued slowly, turning his head towards her.

She met his indigo eyes evenly. The definite planes of his handsome face were shadowed in the moonlight. "And I'm going to have sex."

He didn't seem bothered by the admission, though that could have had something to do with the fact that she looked barely able to carry her own weight, much less spend a night of passionate lovemaking. "Tonight?" he prodded.

"Tonight," she affirmed with a giggle.

His brow furrowed in a deep frown. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she shrugged, the sound of her laughter growing louder.

"Meredith?"

She reined it in long enough to stare into his indignant eyes. "What?"

There was an intimacy to the way his body leaned towards her, well out of reach but unnervingly close. The streetlights highlighted the fierceness in his steady stare. "Let's have sex, me and you, tonight, no strings attached. Like…"

"Like our first time was supposed to be," she finished for him quietly.

"Yes, like that." He nodded, and his gaze glittered with the rage that drove him.

He was painfully serious.

"I'm drunk," she said finally.

"I can see that," he muttered.

"Derek," she breathed softly, tossing the half empty bottle aside. It landed on the asphalt with a painful crash that made her wince. He barely noticed. "Go away."

"I'm trying," he snapped.

His clenched jaw was a telltale of hot anger, and it made her head hurt to ponder it. She glared at him through a haze of vodka and tequila. "I'm pathetically drunk and depressed, and if you wanted to you could take advantage of me. The funny part is that I'd be willing, but I'll give you hell tomorrow if I remember any of it. So just," she trailed off when he grabbed her hand and gently squeezed her thin fingers. The gesture was innocent, but she snatched her hand as though she'd been burned. "Go away," she repeated, hating that her voice wobbled.

"But I want to take advantage," he said hoarsely.

"No, you don't. You're…"

"Doctor Shephard!" Miranda Bailey's voice killed the brewing fight.

Meredith dropped her head back against the damp wood of the bench and shut her eyes, convinced that if she wanted to she could isolate herself.

"Doctor Grey," Bailey continued, a note of dismay creeping into the greeting, but it wasn't with Meredith, at least that she knew. "I thought you weren't supposed to come." She was talking to Derek accusingly, but he seemed too weary to acknowledge that.

"Where to?" he sighed.

Bailey glared at him. "To the party, Doctor."

Lifting her head cautiously, she opened her eyes to watch the taut smile that curved his lips, and through her drunken musings wondered what was wrong with him. He wasn't his usual charming, light-hearted self. He was angry and brooding.

"I didn't come to the party. I came here to this wonderful bench to watch mediocre cars pass by and listen to the hideous music coming from that house." He thrust his rigid jaw in the direction of her duplex.

Not intimidated by the sour display of a raging temper, Bailey scowled and folded her arms beneath her breasts. "Well, I just left the hospital, and your wife's looking all over for you. Might want to turn on that cell phone of yours," she suggested sarcastically.

"I forgot it in my locker." And he didn't look sorry.

Meredith laughed quietly, drawing their eyes to her scantly dressed form. The cruel January wind sheathed her with an icy blanket that even the alcohol failed to dissolve. "You're acting very un-Derek-like," she commented and locked eyes with Bailey who shook her head in disapproval. "He wants to have sex with me," she mocked a whisper and giggled childishly.

The short stocky woman turned towards him, and her dark eyes searched for his guilt. Clucking her tongue absently, she wrapped her long coat tighter around her shoulders. "Take her somewhere warm. She'll catch pneumonia without even realizing it." That said, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the dancing crowd.

"I probably shouldn't have said that," she mumbled sheepishly.

"Probably," he agreed, sliding towards her. His arm was warm and heavy as it went around her shoulders, pulling her strongly against the solid warmth of his chest. When she instinctively leaned her head against his shoulder, he pressed his stubbly cheek to the soft disheveled hair at her temple, making her want to forget all about the ugliness.

He was silent for a long time, his breath lightly ruffling her hair, his sound heartbeat singing methodically against her cheek. She tried not to sigh as she brought her hand to his chest, tucking it beside her cheek. The muscle beneath her palm jerked in response.

He sucked in a sharp breath that startled her. "Come on, I'll take you home."

"Too loud," she protested weakly.

Stroking fingers strummed her shoulder through her lightweight black sweater. "I'd take you to my trailer, but I don't think you're in for a fight with Addison."

"There's a door at the back," she supplied.

His laughter was genuine, and it rumbled in his chest. "It's often referred to as the backdoor."

"I'm drunk."

"Very drunk," he corrected and set her away from him as he lifted himself off the bench and towered above her. Cradling her elbows, he helped her to her feet. "And your hands are freezing."

"What?" she asked in disdain. "I've only been out here a minute."

"More like an hour." He rubbed her hands between his larger warmer ones and pressed his lips to her forehead. "You're feverish."

"Stop touching me," she said angrily, recoiling from his advancing arms.

"Why not? I'm just trying to help."

Her voice dropped a notch. "Because, it's turning me on."

Derek's dark eyebrows shot upwards, but he didn't smile because she wasn't joking. "No sex tonight," he announced in a tone that rivaled disappointment.

She ignored it. "Not for me. But you can still get some from Addison. I'm sure you guys do the husbandey-husbandly-wifey-wifely thing to do or whatever." Her palm hovered in front of his face, and she shook her head. "I really don't want to know. Not that you offered to tell me, but just in case you thought it would make for good conversation… not just now, I mean ever, don't tell me."

"Meredith, just let me take you home. You're sick and drunk, and you're going to wake up with one hell of a hangover." Gently, he caught her wandering hands and pulled her towards him. Her struggle lasted for all of thirty seconds before she collapsed against his chest. He rubbed her back for several minutes when she sobered enough to feel the tears clinging to her eyelashes. "I'm going to carry you. Is that alright?" he murmured against her hair.

She nodded and held her breath as he hooked an arm behind her knees and kept the other wrapped around her back. He hoisted her against him as if she weighed no more than a purring cat.

"You're going to have to tell me where to go."

"Where no one will see you," she replied with false cheer. His pointed look made her head drop. "Just go around the trees, and you'll get to the door."

She didn't remember much of the trip, only that he kept whispering to her that she would be alright. When they reached her bedroom, he pulled back the covers and laid her against the pale bed-dress.

The back of his hand felt cold against her forehead. "You want to change your clothes?"

She opened her eyes to gaze at his looming face. "You want to undress me?"

"You're impossible," he sighed with frustration and pulled a hand through the tangle of dark curls on his head.

"No, I'm fine."

"You have a fever, and your clothes are damp for some reason. You have to change them."

"Some reason is that some guy I have never seen before decided to pour a bottle of water down my back… as a joke of course."

"I'm changing your clothes," he asserted firmly, much as one would address a disobedient child.

"Derek, no," she pleaded. "Don't take care of me. I can't… just don't." She let her eyelids drop and tried to clear her mind of the immense fog. "Why can't you leave me alone?"

"Because you're sick." Nimble fingertips brushed against the naked flesh beneath her v-necked cotton sweater. The material felt flimsy against his hands as he started to lift it.

"Derek, please," she whispered brokenly, but his eyes carefully avoided her tear-streaked face.

He placed a gentle thumb against her parted lips and spoke to her quietly. "Shh, relax. I'll get you some dry clothes and find something for the fever." His lulling voice and mellow eyes disappeared when she shut her eyes and fell into a fitful slumber.

There was a hammering sound in the distance. It rushed towards her frighteningly until the incessant pounding seemed to be aimed right at her head, forcing an unbearable ache to spread there. She groggily reached for an object to hurl against the source but her hands returned empty.

Another impatient bang. The door, she realized numbly, grasping a nearby pillow.

The knock was joined by a loud, "Meredith!" and the knob was turned several times before a moment of peace elapsed.

She tried to focus on the thoughts swirling in her mind in an attempt to gather the events that led to the very unfortunate circumstance she was suffering.

At the door, the murmurs seemed to belong to several voices.

She tried to open her eyes against the chaos but found the light too blinding.

"That must hurt."

His voice was unmistakable, scratchy from sleep or sleeplessness. His hovering form blocked the streaming sunlight.

"Derek?"

She felt his fingers against her lips, pressing a small pill between them. "Aspirin, for the hangover," he explained as he lifted her slightly and tipped the glass of tepid water against her lips.

Meredith swallowed obligingly.

Another loud knock echoed, and she winced.

"I'd tell them to stop, but I wasn't sure you wanted everyone to know I was here…"

"Derek?" she asked again, the wonder in her voice making her want to curse herself. Her eyes opened a sliver, just enough to make out his softened features.

He smiled then, a small curve of the lips that did something funny to his tired eyes. "You don't remember much, do you?"

"It's coming in bits and pieces." She cringed at Cristina's screeching voice.

Three hands knocked simultaneously on the wooden door, and she almost wished it wasn't locked.

"Make them stop," she cried.

His chuckle was indulgent as he brushed stray honey-colored strands of hair away from her face.

She pushed her hand against his, smiling faintly into his eyes. "Thank you."

Thanks for reading! Next chapter should be out really soon.

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