"Done," she echoes. For all the sense he's making right now, he might as well be speaking a foreign language, but that word, that part, Meredith gets. Or maybe she doesn't, but she understands the way it makes her ache, how it makes her afraid. They fit together like she was always missing him and she's been happier than she thought she could be here, but the rest of it, that makes no sense. Whatever he is or was, it's not less than she deserves, it's more. "Done with what? With me?"

She tries to sound as cold as he did earlier, as utterly unaffected by his words as can be, but instead she hears her voice rise and crack, throat growing tight until she's not sure she can breathe.