meredith muse

There’s a reason I said I’d be happy alone. It wasn’t because I thought I’d be happy alone. It was because I thought if I love someone and it fell apart, I might not make it. It’s easier to be alone because what if you learn you need love and then you don’t have it? What if you like it and lean on it? What if you shape your life around it and then it falls apart? Can you even survive that kind of pain? Losing love is like organ damage. It’s like dying. The only difference is death ends. This could go on forever.
—  Meredith Grey. 

“you can’t keep fucking up and expecting me to pick up the broken pieces.” meredith murmurs, glancing over at the person sitting in her passenger seat. “A N D the fact that i even drove over here to get you– you should consider yourself fucking blessed.” a pause. “it’s three in the morning. you’re lucky i care about you.”

@athenafire

She just whined in protest to moving. Meredith drank enough apple jack to drown a cow, she was not going to move anytime soon.

     {➹} – AT LEAST SHE wasn’t fully asleep, yet, but that was a small relief as the hedgehog squirmed. “Mer’ if you don’t get off of me you’re going t’ get poked or thrown up on,” he warned, not at all joking.

{ starter for @feelswrvng }

There were still quite a few unanswered questions that Meredith had about how often Jackson would want her to spend evenings with him. Would it interfere with her studies? And what was she supposed to tell her roommate and other friends she’d made at the university when she disappeared for those nights? Would they really believe she was just working late shifts at a diner? Obviously they would go check it out eventually and find she wasn’t there. This was going to further complicate Meredith’s life, not make it easier. But she had signed the contract anyway and taken Jackson’s assignment, too curious about what this kind of relationship would be like and needing to find some way to pay her tuition. She would figure the rest out as it came up.

The next three days, whenever she’d gotten some alone time, she’d done what he’d told her to do. She got acquainted with the wand, using it against herself. The first time, she had gotten carried away and let herself climax, enjoying the way the vibrations felt against her sex a little too much. But after that, Meredith had tried to get more serious with it, testing the settings and edging herself, because she really had no idea what Jackson planned to do with the wand or what this assignment might prove to him. And if Meredith was anything, she was a good student.

The evening on the third day came and she took a cab to the building where his penthouse was located, making sure to arrive on time for this night. Met by the doorman, she was taken to an elevator and sent up to Jackson’s floor. She was wearing the same dress from the night they met, not owning anything else that she felt was fancy enough for him. All of her dresses felt too juvenile for the kind of actions she assumed would be taking place. And wearing jeans just seemed wrong. On her arm a bag with a change of clothes (in case she was staying over, Meredith wanted to be prepared) and the wand that she’d gotten to know over the past few days. As the elevator stopped and the doors opened, the brunette stepped out with her heart beating fast and began to look around the space, hoping she wasn’t too early.

Meredith & Teddy after 14x02

After 14x02, Teddy and Meredith muse on their losses in light of Megan’s miraculous survival.

Story under the cut. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12761142


‘How do you do it?’

A simple question, whispered across a bar - 5 am, shift nearly over. Teddy doesn’t know what it means.

Tequila stings the throat, the eyes; a tear, in existence only a second, then blinked away.

The whisper comes again, a moment later, and this time her eyes flick up. Meredith. She’s two seats away, a drink nursed by a soul who needed it, tonight, more than they ever needed it.

‘How do I do what?’ she asks, trying to catch the eye of the barman who is too busy with someone else to notice her hand, slow, waving for a fraction of a second.

'Look at Megan and not wonder.’  

She doesn’t know what to say to that. Meredith does, with that distance still between them. They are not friends, never have been. Once, maybe, but no - they just shared friends, Cristina, half a world away now, and Mark, half an existence. Never friends, always one seat away, never too close.

'When Nathan found out, do you know what I said to him?’ Meredith’s voice is low, as if she speaks higher, louder, then something within her will break. Teddy supposes it will. The tequila shot wasn’t enough, nor the vodka downed in a hurry. Nothing would be enough for this. There is never a time to have this conversation. Guilt begins to rear its head, but she buries it, listens to Meredith instead.

'No,’ a crisp, clear reply. Definite, certain. Meredith goes on regardless, voice lilting like the sea. It’s obvious to Teddy that she just wants to say it, to get it out. It seems something pulling, pushing, begging to be released. There’s a pause, a hitch in the air. It doesn’t seem the same anymore, is that right?

She only says eight words, but it tilts the landscape, colours the view for them both. A universal truth, maybe, that’s what Meredith says. 'If this were Derek, I’d already be gone.’
And in that moment, Teddy knows why. Why this woman, this near stranger, has sought her in a bar far too early in the morning. A universal truth yes, but only universal to those who have lost, who have felt the same pain, walked through the same dark days.

'You don’t understand,’ Teddy says back, spitting anger not meant for Meredith. She has no idea who it is meant for, not anymore (Correction, revision, edit, please - she’s made a mistake: she knows who is it for, it’s just that ghosts are so very futile to be angry at). 'I’m happy for Nathan,’ she fumbles, lies easy from her lips.  

'Oh,’ Meredith says. 'I’m happy for him. It’s hard not to wonder, though, is it?’

'Wonder what?’ Teddy replies, that anger still lingering. It’s got nowhere to go, it never has - once, she directed it at Owen, at Cristina, at people who didn’t deserve the venom vicious from her tongue.
'Why is it that she can come back, when my husband can’t. That Riggs felt everything we felt and now he doesn’t.’

'It didn’t cross my mind.’

Liar, barefaced, crumbling under it all. Of course she wondered, she looked at Megan, sitting where Henry had once sat, and thought - why her, why now, why do you get to come back from the dead. But she’d painted a smile onto her face and walked through corridors that had haunted her nightmares, pretended because that was what a good friend did. The guilt, stinging and fresh, threatens once more.
Teddy should be happy, isn’t everyone else?

Not Meredith, she thinks, not completely.

Not Amelia, Owen’s bride.

They have all lost, they see the unfairness where they shouldn’t. They see a happy ending they will never get, something they will never be allowed. Their pain is permanent, it marks their skin, the very fabric of their beings. Aren’t they all the same, Teddy wonders, under the skin and bone and blood; their hearts all beat the same, one note wrong, a little out of tune.

'You know,’ Meredith says, 'it’s alright to say it hurts.’

Teddy takes a deep breath, shoves the glass away from her, stares down. Meredith’s words echo for a long time. If it were Henry, walking these halls, breathing, damaged, but alive - Teddy would be beaming, laughing along with him. She doesn’t begrudge Nathan, nor Owen, but she wishes - on stars that are not here, on candles that went out a long time ago - that it wasn’t Megan, but Henry.
But no. Guilt. She must not feel like this. Be happy, Megan is alive. Megan is alive and isn’t that fantastic. It is; the smile isn’t fake, not really, just a little extra for show.
Meredith orders another drink, adds one for Teddy along the way. She slides it across, bridging the gap between them.

'A toast?’ she says, but Teddy doesn’t know what she means.

'To who?’

A shrug, eyes intense on hers. There is a list, surely, a husband or two, a sister here, an old friend there. All they have lost, unable to compute, a list far too long for two women still so young. She closes her eyes and imagines a world where Henry is still here, not a ghost who will never leave her alone. But it’s just a good story, isn’t it?

What’s wrong with a story, she wonders. She and Henry were a good story, once upon a time. Meredith and Derek were too. Megan just happened to be one with a happy ending.

Meredith is looking at her again. Teddy picks up the glass, empty, now, and stares at it, avoiding, ignoring.  

Aren’t they all stories, in the end?

'To Henry,’ Teddy says, after the pause, voice stronger than it has been in a long time, 'and to Derek, because they’re gone. To Megan, because she’s still here.’

So they raise their glasses, side by side, but still that little bit apart. The sun joins them, rises too, a new day.  

Tequila stings the throat, the eyes; a tear, in existence only a second, then blinked away.

'We’re alright, aren’t we?’ Teddy says.

'Yeah,’ Meredith says. 'We are.’


iammultifandomaf  asked:

Hey! I just wanted you opinion on the ep.4x09. The scene where Lydia and Stiles are in the Echo House with Brunski listenin to the recording of her grandma. When the shot camera is on Stiles he looks very very pissed. You think (cuz all this spak!stiles meta things) that he somehow helps with Parrish suddenly apearing there and shooting the bastard? Like that he wished him dead and whoops he is in few minutes. Parrish didnt have to kill him, he is a cop, he could have just take him with him

I’ve been so caught up in my Meredith The Benefactor musings i hadn’t really looked too closely at that scene before now. So thank you for reminding me!

Now Parrish turning up and saving the day - I believe that was all Parrish. We see him piecing together the evidence that Brunski is the one finding all the suicides, and he’s also know what a dickbag he really is.

BUT - if Parrish hadn’t arrived when he did I am 100 % sure Stiles would’ve saved them, or at least attempted to.

First let’s agree that they are both tied up pretty good with sturdy looking restraints

We see Stiles struggle more than once, trying to get free

Stiles even wears his “I’m about to do badass shit-face”

Look how calm and concentrated he is when he thinks Brunski is going for him first with the needle. He’s f**king ready!

But then Brunski goes for Lydia and Stiles goes for the rescue - CHECK OUT HIS ARM!

HE TOTALLY BREAKS FREE! And he would’ve gone after Brunski with all he had if Parrish hadn’t show up.

Let’s enjoy this moment with a still as well - just in case there is any doubt…

Stiles can do impossible things when he wants to - or believes he can. This is possibly linked to his spark. I’ve made several posts about this before. This is now a thing we cannot deny!

EDIT: Scrolling down my dash just minutes after i posted this, i saw that certhia-pi had made the same observation :)