Hey, do you hear, do you hear that sound?
It's the sound of the lost gone found,
It's the sound of a mute gone loud,
It's the sound of a new start.

At 1:30 in the morning, Meredith groans and reaches for the PCA pump next to the bed. She has been dozing in and out of sleep for a few hours, and so has Bailey, but Derek is so drained, so on edge, from everything that has happened today that he can't sleep even though he knows he should.

"Morphine," Meredith croaks. Her hand searches for the pump but can't find it in the darkness of the room.

He jumps up, and finds it for her, nestled in the sheets with her drainage tubes and her IV. He places it into her hand and watches her click the pump six times, even though she knows that won't make it go any faster or give her any more medicine than what she needs.

"Ok," he soothes. "You're ok. What do you need?"

"Drugs," she says in a hoarse whisper.

"Ok, they're coming," he says, rubbing her arm.

It takes a few minutes for the pain relief to kick in, but he can tell when it does as her face finally relaxes.

"How do you feel?" he asks.

She grimaces and shakes her head.

"That good, huh?"

Even though her eyes are still closed, she laughs a little, and when he closes his fingers around hers, she squeezes back.

"You did good," he says quietly. "Everything's ok now."

She swallows and nods.

"Want some water?"

She nods again, so he takes the plastic cup with a straw in it from her bedside table and brings it to her lips. She opens her eyes, takes a few sips, and then asks in a voice hoarse from exhaustion and intubation, "Where's Zola?"

"She's in one of the on-call rooms," he says. "Alex was going to take her to the old house for the night, but apparently a tree came through the front window earlier, so there's water and glass all over the living room. And the ferry isn't running right now because of the storm so he couldn't take her to our house."

"A tree came through the window?"

"Yeah, it's been a pretty bad storm," he says.

"Alex is ok?"

"Yeah, he examined Bailey in the NICU. He says congratulations, by the way."

Meredith smiles and nods. "He's ok?" she asks. It's something she has been asking for hours, and he knows that she is talking about the baby now, not Alex.

"He's doing great," he assures her. Bailey is tiny and fragile at just about six pounds, but even though he's early, he is healthy. "I think one of the nurses will probably bring him in soon."

Sure enough, they hear a soft knock at the door a few minutes later, and the nurse wheels the baby into the room.

"This little guy wants his mama," she says. "How are you feeling? Do you want to try nursing him again?"

"Was he crying?" Meredith asks.

"No, but he's awake and it's about that time that he would want to eat anyway. Need some help?"

Derek watches as the nurse scoops Bailey out of the bassinet and holds him while Meredith unfastens one side of her gown. She places the baby in Meredith's arms, but it's only a few seconds before Meredith winces and admits, "I can't hold him like this."

"Too much weight on your incisions?" the nurse asks knowingly, taking the baby back.

Meredith nods.

It takes some maneuvering, but they finally settle Bailey on his back on a pillow at Meredith's side, facing her but without any of his weight actually on her. It takes much more work than he thought it would, but when Meredith looks up at Derek in relief as the baby starts to eat, Derek smiles at her.

He feels like he's in the way and that they don't need him for this part, so he holds back and lets the nurse help her while he watches, enthralled. "Getting the hang of it?" he asks.

"I think so," Meredith replies, but she's so wrapped up in their son, staring into his eyes and smoothing her palm over his head, that she doesn't really pay him that much attention. "It feels like he's eating a lot."

"That's good," Derek says, taking his seat next to the bed back now that the nurse doesn't need to be there anymore. "He needs to get big and strong."

The nurse stays for a few minutes more to make sure that everything is going smoothly, but then she leaves the three of them alone. When another knock comes at the door, and someone lets themselves into the room, Meredith looks up. She is probably expecting Cristina, but it's Miranda instead. She has tears in her eyes, and as soon as Derek notices this, something sinks deep in the pit of his stomach. It is the second time he has seen Miranda like this today, and something tells him that this time, everything is not fine.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says quickly, seeing Meredith feeding their son, and she turns to leave.

Her voice is so warbly though that even Meredith's attention is ripped away from the baby for a moment. "What?" she asks hurriedly. "What's the matter?"

Miranda tells them with trembling breaths that she has just left the ICU, where Richard is post-operative and unconscious, with second and third degree burns, plus other damage from a major electrical shock. She, Avery, and a few other surgeons had been able to restart his heart, debride some of the burns, and repair some of the damage. But his accident was bad enough that right now, it's just a matter of waiting and seeing if he wakes up again.

Derek is so surprised, so-for lack of a better word-shocked that he is speechless. He glances over at Meredith and he can tell that she too is in disbelief. Her hand has stilled on the crown of their son's head, and she stares at Miranda, unblinking with tears in her eyes.

"I don't understand," she finally says. Her voice comes out shaky too.

"One of the techs found him in the basement," Miranda says, pulling herself together a little to give the details. "It had something to do with the power going out and then coming back on. I don't really know what."

"What was he doing down there?" Meredith asks quietly.

Miranda shakes her head, and brushes a few tears out of her eyes. He has seen it a million times before, so he doesn't know why it has taken him this long to recognize it now. But it becomes clear to Derek in this moment, as Meredith and Miranda stare at each other, that he is witnessing the victim's next of kin trying to process the horrible news of their loved one's probable imminent demise.

Miranda's reaction makes sense to him. Richard took this woman under his wing from day one. He has always loved her for her talent and her moxy. She is his protégé, and for a long time, she was the only one in this hospital who had his back as much as he had hers.

But the waters of Richard and Meredith's relationship have always been rough and, frankly, Derek has never understood the two of them. He has seen Richard scream at her, threaten to fire her, actually fire her. Derek himself has stood before her as she told him that Richard was absolutely not to be allowed at their wedding. He sees them both manipulate each other and play the Ellis Grey card whenever they need to in order to get what they want. But he has also watched her cover up his drinking, and him take the fall for her dubious ethical decisions. Neither of them would do these things for nearly anyone else. Somehow, he is sure that despite everything, they love one another.

For a second, as he watches Meredith try to process all of this, he forgets that Richard is his friend too. He forgets how much he owes this man, and that without Richard offering him a job-in effect, throwing him a buoy when he was drowning-he never would have met Meredith. Right now, none of that matters, because of the expression on Meredith's face. Right now, he is filled with irrational frustration. It's enough to manage a newborn baby, and the pain from a c-section and splenectomy, without adding this in. He hates that the few hours of peace and control they had have been so quickly snatched away.

Meredith presses Miranda for details-everything from what his stats were in surgery to how extensive his burns are to what his heart rate is now. Miranda only has some of the answers, far below her usual standard. He half expects Meredith to ask for Richard's primary doctor to come here right now and brief her.

When Miranda leaves, presumably to go find the answers to these questions herself, both of them are so stunned that it doesn't occur to either of them to tell Miranda what they've decided to name their son.

Derek remains quiet as he looks up at Meredith. One of her arms cradles the baby, while the other holds his tiny hand, but she stares straight ahead, her eyes glistening.

She lets out a shaky breath, and when she turns to look at him, he has the strongest, almost inexplicable, feeling of déjà vu. For a second, even though he knows she is a grown woman, that she is a surgeon and a wife and a mother, and that it takes so much to rattle Meredith Grey, he looks at her and is reminded so clearly of Amelia. He can't figure out why at first, but then it clicks into place.

He remembers the same expression on his sister's face once. It was thirty years ago, and a police officer had just told them that their father was dead. He remembers shaking his head, sitting next to Amy and staring the cop in the face like he was the biggest liar he had ever met. It was preposterous that his father could die. Impossible. He didn't believe it. Amy, though-Amy had sat there, wide-eyed and unblinking, terrified and rapt at the same time, as her world shifted underneath her and she crumbled.

Meredith never thought that this man was invincible. She of all people knows his faults. But it still is almost unbelievable to her that he could be lying in the hospital bed in front of her, barely clinging to life. He is awake, but not alert, doped up on morphine, snaked with tubes and wires and hardly responsive at all.

"Richard, it's Meredith," she says quietly. She's still in a hospital gown herself and rolled up next to his bed in a wheelchair. She doesn't know what to say to him really. When has she ever known what to say to him? For a minute, she feels so foolish. Why is she here at all?

He is the reason why her mother didn't want her, why her father has not been in her life for almost thirty years. He is a person who asks too much of her, who has always looked at her and been reminded of someone else, who treated her like his penance, like a charity case.

But he is also someone who nurtured her talent, believed in her skill, who encouraged her and taught her how to practice medicine. He has given her a home at this hospital, and a purpose. He has tried hard to care for her, to protect her, to love her. And she cannot stand the thought of him lying here alone, so here she is.

She remembers once, years ago, when she could almost still feel the harsh sting of Thatcher's open palm on her cheek, when she looked at this man and told him, in a wavering voice, "You are not my father."

And maybe she doesn't have a father. But Richard didn't walk away from her the way Thatcher did. He tried to help, to make sure that she was all right. And so it's equally true what she said to another man who pointed a gun at her heart: "I'm the closest thing he has to a daughter."

She has children now, so she understands that part of it a little bit better, the part about the way he might feel about her. For better or for worse, he is part of her family. For better or for worse, they are tied together. For better or for worse, they are the only people who really know what it feels like to be one of Ellis Grey's great failures. For better or for worse, he is one of the few people in this world who loves her despite the fact that she too can be selfish, defensive, stubborn, destructive, manipulative, and flawed sometimes. For better or worse, their relationship is for better or worse.

So she reaches out and lays her fingers gently over his. And when she does, he musters up the strength to turn his head and open his eyes. She can tell that he's in so much pain despite the morphine, so she's not even sure why she is telling him this except that she can't stand the silence. But she finds herself telling him anyway.

"I have a little boy now," she says. "His name is Bailey."

Richard closes his eyes for a second, and the hint of a smile turns the corners of his mouth. It's barely noticeable, but he nods his approval.

It's four days before Carolyn and Lizzie can make it out to Seattle. The storm has done some damage to the city's infrastructure, making travel a lot more difficult. Selfishly, though, Derek is a little thankful that the damage has given him time to get Meredith and the baby home from the hospital, and to give his family some time to adjust before hosting guests.

He offers to pick them up at the airport, but his mother refuses. They've just had a baby, she reminds them. She assures him that she and Lizzie will be able to figure out the ferry.

The knock at the front door comes so softly that he almost doesn't hear it. Meredith and Zola are napping in bed, and he—so deliriously tired himself—is dozing with Bailey on the couch. It takes him a moment to realize what is happening and to get up gingerly enough to keep Bailey asleep. For a second, he wonders why they didn't just ring the doorbell, but then he realizes that between the two of them, they've had enough kids to know that ringing the bell and possibly waking a sleeping newborn is probably the worst idea in the world.

When he opens the door, the greeting is entirely silent at first. His mother's eyes glisten as soon as she sees him with the baby. She covers her mouth with her fingertips and doesn't say a word.

He hugs Liz with his free arm and steps aside for them to both come in and leave their luggage at the door. For a minute or two, he just stands there and lets them peer at the sleeping baby in his arms.

"Meet Bailey Christopher Shepherd," he says before turning to the sleeping baby. "B, this is Nana and Aunt Liz."

Liz traces her fingertip lightly over Bailey's clenched fist.

"Hey, buddy," she whispers. "It's nice to meet you."

Carolyn doesn't say anything.

"Mom, you can talk," he finally says. "He won't wake up."

Carolyn shakes her head and wipes a few tears out of her eyes.

Liz laughs. "She couldn't talk even if she wanted to. Congratulations, Derek. He's beautiful."

"Thanks. How was your flight?" he asks, moving toward the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?"

Carolyn clears her throat and pulls herself together. "Derek, we can get our own drinks," she says. "Sit down and relax. You just had a baby."

"Mom, Meredith had the baby," Liz says, rolling her eyes. "Derek, if there was ever any question of you being the favorite child…."

"Liz," Carolyn says. "Shush. Where are the glasses?"

Derek tells her which cabinet they're in as he settles back down on the couch with Bailey on his chest and Liz takes a seat in one of the chairs opposite him.

Carolyn brings three glasses of ice water into the living room and sits down next to Derek on the couch. "How is Meredith?" she asks.

"She's getting there," he says. "It's a long story, but she had a rough delivery, and the storm didn't really help things. She's sleeping with Zola right now but I'm sure they'll be up soon. Zola will at least."

"Poor thing," Carolyn says. "Well, we can help with whatever you need. Put us to work."

"I can't wait to see Zola," Liz says. "I'm trying to lock up 'favorite aunt' by the end of this visit."

"As long as you're willing to have a tea party with her and read her an endless amount of books, you'll have it in the bag," he says.

"Done. I miss when my kids were little. It'll be nice to get a little dose of baby while we're out here," Liz says.

"You'll probably leave thankful that your kids are all potty trained and sleeping through the night," he replies with a chuckle.

They fall silent for a moment as Bailey shifts in Derek's arms and yawns. Derek stays as still as he can so as not to disturb him, and he settles back down.

"It's weird to see you with kids," Liz says after awhile.

"Liz, you've seen me with kids a million times," he says. "You've got five of them."

Liz shakes her head. "Your own kids. It's weird. In a good way."

He smiles. It's been four days, but he still can't believe that he has two kids now. "It is good," he agrees.

"I think he looks like you," Liz says. "Actually, I kind of think he looks like Amelia."

"Really?" Derek asks. "I think he looks like Meredith. Same nose. But the other day, I swear to God, he reminded me so much of Zola. Just this look in his eyes."

"The two of them are going to have you wrapped around their fingers," Liz says.

"Oh, they already do," he replies. "Meredith runs this house; Zola already knows that I'm a softie. I'm sure it won't take him long to figure it out either." He turns to Carolyn. "What do you think, Ma? Who does he look like?"

She studies her grandson for a moment before she answers. "I think he looks like Meredith," she replies. "But you? Derek, you look exactly like your father."

Ok, so this isn't quite as polished as I would normally like it to be, but I've been sitting on this for awhile and it'll be irrelevant after tomorrow, so I figured I would share with you guys anyway. Honestly, I haven't decided if I'm going to add to it yet or not. I have some ideas, but my schedule is also kind of prohibitive right now, so those two things are kind of competing with each other. (Oh, and I know the baby's name is Derek Bailey Shepherd, but I absolutely hate that name so I'm just pretending that it didn't happen.) Anyway, I hope you are all doing well! Happy Grey's day tomorrow :)