[for Meredith]

[missingthekeep]

He’s been hurt worse. That’s what Sean tells himself when he wakes up to the sterile clinic walls instead of his bedroom and feels a wave of frustration wash over him. Relief that he’s still alive is probably buried in there somewhere deep down, but he’s too busy being disgusted with himself for making such rookie mistakes as taking his eyes off his attackers and not having backup escape routes planned in advance. He never trusted that bloody space station from the get-go, but he was still caught unprepared. Not that one can ever really be prepared for robotically animated corpses, but he should have at least been able to put himself in a frame of mind suitable for protecting Meredith without sacrificing the basics.

He got sloppy. Just like the last time something like this happened. He got overly emotional (the emotion may have been different this time around, but the principle remains the same), and he lost his edge, and bad things happened as a result. Which is why, as true as it is, the knowledge that he’s been hurt worse than this doesn’t come as much of a comfort. Maybe he’ll be out of this place sooner, but that doesn’t mean much if he’s just going to screw up again the next time something bad happens.

Besides, at least the last time he found himself laid up somewhere, he was capable of complaining about it.

Comments

[drownondryland]

Meredith bites her lip, leaning over to rest her head against his for a moment. "You can come home as soon as it's reasonable," she says quietly. "I want you home, I want to go home now. I just don't want to take unnecessary risks." They've had enough of those already today. "I just need you to trust that I know what I'm doing."

[missingthekeep.livejournal.com]

Sean gives a terse nod, though he remains, to put it mildly, clearly displeased with the idea. If there's one thing left in the world that he trusts in, though, it's her. Whether that will prove to be enough to keep him here for as long as she wants is anyone's guess, but it's got nothing to do with his faith in her. She only wants what's best for him.

[drownondryland]

"Thank you." Squeezing his hand gently, Meredith musters up a smile. He's not happy with this, she knows, but she can't imagine any reason why he should be. She was anxious to get home when she spent less time in here than he'll have to or should, and she could still speak. That's the one that worries her most, that she doesn't know how long this will last. In the long run, a few weeks or even months isn't very bad at all, if they're so lucky, but a weekend was enough to break her heart over. They don't need the help. She hesitates, looking down, before she adds, "And thank you for... for what you did up there."

[missingthekeep.livejournal.com]

Sean shakes his head at that, but not unkindly. Privacy be damned, he reaches up with his free hand to tip her chin back up and toward him before he cups her cheek, rests his forehead against hers and watches her all the while. He doesn't deserve thanks. He did what he had to.

[drownondryland]

Breath catching in her throat, Meredith has to steel herself again not to start crying like an idiot, but it's a near thing. "I should have stayed down here," she says, "I shouldn't have gone. You wouldn't be here." There was never trouble before and she knows she couldn't have known, but that doesn't make it any easier not to think it's at least somewhat her fault this happened.

[missingthekeep.livejournal.com]

Staunchly ignoring the part of him that agrees with her (the bit about staying on the ground, at least), he shakes his head more fervently this time, shushing her. She did nothing wrong, had no way of knowing what would happen. He's the one who made actual mistakes, avoidable ones. It's his own fault he's here and hearing her take the blame like that... it's unacceptable.

[drownondryland]

If she hadn't wanted to go back up, he wouldn't have been up there. It's as simple as that to Meredith, and while she can't blame herself for what was waiting, she can't ignore that either. She's breathing too fast, trying to keep herself together and only making it worse. With a quick kiss, she pulls away only to rest her head on his shoulder, hide her face for a moment while she recovers.

[missingthekeep.livejournal.com]

Sean ignores the twinge of pain in his side as he slips his arm around her to keep her close even as she disengages. He has to let her know that he's still right here with her, since he suspects he often won't be in the weeks to come.

Weeks of this.

[drownondryland]

She can't do this, can't sit here in plain view and let herself think of how she doesn't even remember what the last thing he said to her was, other than that it was urgent, probably an order. That doesn't make her any more inclined to pull away. "I love you," she says in place of more self-recriminations. Knowing he can't say it back is punishment enough.

[missingthekeep.livejournal.com]

It goes beyond punishment on Sean's end of things. Maybe he's just being melodramatic, but it feels like torture, not being able to reply to that. Mostly just for something to do, he leans across her, peering over the side of the bed for the paper. He's not about to cheapen it by writing 'I love you' back to her so he doesn't really have anything to say, but it's a distraction.

[drownondryland]

Meredith shifts back to see what he's doing, getting her bearings a bit. This is it, the limit, this is as worked up as she can let herself get until things quiet down, and that isn't an easy thing to ask. Pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, she leans over to grab first the pen, then the board and paper, and sits back again.

[missingthekeep.livejournal.com]

Sean tries to protest, to let her know that he can do it himself, but he's got no real way to stop her and, like it or not, she is closer. He takes from her, but he doesn't write anything, electing instead to sit and stare at the few words he's already written, tapping the pen rapidly against the page.

[drownondryland]

Meredith reaches up to rest her hand on his shoulder again, rubbing gently. "Try to relax," she says. "Sit back. Or lie down. I'll bring back something for you to read when it quiets down a little in here." Stepping out to be with him is one thing, but she can't leave him and this mess both for long.

[missingthekeep.livejournal.com]

Sean waves off her concern, though the offer for something to eventually read is something of a welcome one. He still won't be able to relax until he's out of this place, and probably not even then, but he's going to need all the distractions he can get in the weeks to come.

[drownondryland]

It's so tempting to keep pushing, to ask if there's anything he needs, to fuss over him, not because Meredith would ever consider herself the type, but because she's at such a loss for what to do. It can't be that, though, she knows better than that. Sighing, she leans forward to rest her head on his shoulder again. Babbling about nothing won't make him feel any better about not being able to say anything at all.

[missingthekeep.livejournal.com]

He trusts (hopes) that he'll get used to it in time, but for now, while Sean's still trying to process all of this, the silence is just unnerving, although he does appreciate that she's stopped fussing. Careful not to move her, he pulls the clipboard back into his lap and writes some more.

Can I at least get up to walk around a bit later?

[drownondryland]

Meredith nods against his shoulder. "I wouldn't recommend it today," she says, though she mostly means she won't allow it, "but if you don't overdo it, yes. I'm not worried about the stitches so much, not if you're careful, but you did lose a lot of blood."

[missingthekeep.livejournal.com]

Sean makes a face, but he's not about to dislodge her to the point where she can see it. So he bled a bit, he's not about to keel over from it.

still got plenty left.

[drownondryland]

"Doesn't mean you're not gonna be a little woozy if you push yourself," Meredith says. That's probably an understatement, for that matter, but she doesn't want to be melodramatic about this. "You need to give your body time to recover, Sean. Unless you wanna risk getting up and topple over because you're not as ready as you think."

[missingthekeep.livejournal.com]

I would not.

That just makes Sean want to do it as soon as she's not looking just to prove he's fine, but saying as much would defeat the purpose. Honestly, what part of him knowing his own limits doesn't she understand?

[drownondryland]

"I thought you were going to listen to me on this," Meredith says, tensing. She's not sure if she believed that or just wanted to, but he still needs to. She sits up, shaking her head, talking almost to herself. "Do I need to ask someone else to take over? Maybe I should. I should. There's a reason we're not supposed to take care of our own family. If you were any other patient, I'd just say no and be done with it."

[missingthekeep.livejournal.com]

Sean bites his tongue, although it's purely a symbolic gesture now. He's got no choice but to think about his words before he puts them out into the world for once in his life and he still manages to make her feel even worse.

If you were any other doctor, I wouldn't still be sitting here.

[drownondryland]

"When you should be lying down," Meredith points out. "I know you want to move, I know you don't want to be here, but I need you to be. I need you to stay put for a little while. I need you." Maybe that's why this makes her so nervous, she realizes — because she needs him with her and so long as he's here, he is. So long as he's in this bed, she knows where he is; she doesn't have to wait at home alone, kept in the dark again.

[missingthekeep.livejournal.com]

It's not about his wants versus her needs. It has been at times, but this isn't one of them. Sean needs to get out sooner rather than later just as fully as she supposedly needs him to stay, if not more. That too, though, falls under the long list of thoughts that it will do him no good to share, so he takes a slow, raspy, centering breath and relents without actually going back on his words any.

You have me.

[drownondryland]

There are things about him, Meredith's realized these last few months, that scare her. It's not about commitment anymore and her fear of that, although her willingness to commit to him no matter what alarms her at times. It's how careless he is with himself, how little he sometimes seems matters to him, when he's everything to her. That she recognizes that, even identifies with it, only makes it worse. Resting her hand on his arm, she nods, not quite looking at him; that wouldn't help her hold it together. "I know," she says. "I just want to keep it that way."