Disclaimer: Shonda own Grey's and likes to break our hearts. I'm just a fan trying to pick up the pieces.
The title is pretty self-explanatory (and for once, not a song or song lyrics). Every separate section takes place on a Thursday, and there's seven of them. It was the best way I could think to pace it, and I hope it makes sense. I decided to split it in 2 parts; the next one will be posted in a few days. Enjoy!
Part One
November 13th, Seattle
It's late when Meredith finally makes it home with the kids. She decided it would be best until she knew Derek was out of the house, so she waited around at the hospital until she got his curt text message telling her he was at the airport. Considering he's flying to the other side of the country and leaving her with two kids, a courtesy text was the least he could do.
Meredith soon finds out that even carrying Zola and Bailey from the driveway to the front door by herself is a challenge. Usually, she has Derek there to balance the parent to child ratio. Even after all these weeks spent barely speaking, they'd been working as a team. After dinner, one catches up on laundry or dishes while the other handles the kids' baths and pajamas. When the ratio is off kilter, things aren't nearly so simple.
Zola falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow, exhausted after a day spent in preschool and daycare. Most nights, she has enough energy for a bedtime story, but not tonight, and Meredith is admittedly grateful. She knows Zola would've asked where Derek was, and she doesn't have the heart to explain it to her almost four year old, whose favorite word these days is why. A long string of whys over and over again until her inquisitive mind is satisfied.
And really, how is Meredith supposed to respond when she doesn't even know the answer?
Getting Bailey to sleep is more of a challenge, though. Two of his molars are cutting through at once, both of which seem to bother him more at night when there's nothing to distract him from the discomfort.
Meredith is just crawling under the covers, ready to forget today ever happened, when she hears him wailing over the monitor.
"Mama Dada!" he calls out between hiccups.
Meredith flings back the blanket on the cold, empty bed, then quickly walks up to his room. Like Derek, Zola is a light sleeper, and has been woken by her little brother on dozens of occasions since they brought him home from the hospital. And on a night like this one, Meredith would really rather avoid that from happening again.
"Hey, you," she says softly when she enters his room.
Bailey reaches for her as soon as he sees her, and he smiles despite the crocodile tears on his cheeks. He has Derek's smile. That big, boyish grin that makes her weak at the knees every time she sees it.
Meredith scoops him out of his crib, and he rests his head on her shoulder. "Mama," he mumbles into her neck.
"I know, buddy," she coos, patting his bottom with her hand.
Deciding she needs him as much as he needs her, Meredith grabs his favorite stuffed animal, a yellow monkey, then treks back downstairs to her own bedroom.
Their Post-It above the bed catches Meredith's eye, and she thinks back to the day she and Derek signed that small, blue piece of paper, and the weight of the promises written on it.
No running. Ever. Nobody walks out, no matter what happens.
That part was his idea, but the empty side of his bed and the missing suitcase from the closet tell a slightly different story, one where he contradicts himself completely. The irony of it would have escalated Meredith's rage, but she's too tired for rage right now. If he can leave without looking back, she can save her rage until the morning.
Even at the ripe old age of eighteen months, Bailey seems to sense something is off when Meredith places him in Derek's spot on their bed.
"Dada?" he asks.
The question breaks Meredith's heart in two and fills the void with guilt. It's the kind of question she expects from Zola, but not him, not yet. He's too little to wonder where his dad is, and why he's not home. It's a feeling Meredith knew all too well growing up, and one she never thought her kids would have to go through.
She wipes her eyes with her shirt sleeve and smiles at her son. "Dada will be home soon, Bay," she says, wishing she believed her own words and that he'd walk through the door any moment.
But he's not going to.
So for now, all she can do is wrap her arm around Bailey and let him chew on her finger until he falls asleep. "It'll all be okay. I'm gonna fix it, I promise," Meredith tells him over and over until the words sound hollow.
After everything that's happened today, she wonders if maybe they are.
...
November 20th, D.C.
Despite the less than desirable circumstances in which it happened, Derek is settling into his position at the NIH well. He spends his days bouncing between the research lab and his office. The works keeps him so busy that he's barely had time to think about the past week.
And really, he'd rather not, because he's afraid the guilt will consume him.
Sure, he wanted the job from the beginning. It's innovative and thrilling and reminds him of why he got into medicine. He enjoys the work. All of the resources, funds, and technology needed to brain map to his heart's content are at his fingertips.
Only today, all he can think about is Zola's Thanksgiving pageant at her school. It's the only thing she talks about when they Skype every night. She's playing a pilgrim who brings the cornucopia to the feast, and gets to hold hands with a boy named Sam, her pilgrim husband.
Other than the pilgrim husband issue, Derek had been looking forward to the play ever since early November when she came home from school and told him about it, practically jumping off the walls in excitement.
Last night during their Skype chat, she cried when she found out he wasn't going to be there. Seeing her tears and knowing he couldn't wipe them away was like a punch in the gut. He knew sacrifices were part of the package, but those were his to make. He never thought his daughter would get caught in the crossfire.
"I'm so sorry I can't be there, Zo. But I promise, Mommy will send me a video, and you can tell me all about it," Derek had promised.
Truthfully, though, he hadn't spoken to Meredith since the night he left, so he's not sure if he can even ask her for the video. Part of him feels like he doesn't deserve it. He went to D.C. without saying goodbye. Why should he get to reap the joys of parenthood when he's skirting those responsibilities for his career?
Zola tells him Aunt Amy is going, but Derek hasn't spoken to her either. Another person he's burned a bridge with in his path of destruction.
The guilt eats him alive all day. Even during his meeting with the higher-ups at the NIH about advancing their BCI research, he's distracted by Zola's on-stage debut that he's missing.
"Dr. Shepherd?" asks a woman in a navy pantsuit, attempting to get his attention.
Derek snaps back to reality and regains his train of thought. "Right, sorry. In the next week, my team and I are going to focus our attention on DNA barcoding. We've selected a group of trial participants, and we're just waiting on FDA approval," he explains to the group sitting across the table from him.
The rest of his day is spent in the lab working on the newest prototypes, and checking his phone in case any pictures or videos of Zola get sent to him. None do, though.
He goes back to his small but furnished, government-paid-for apartment across the street later on that night, makes himself a sandwich, and spends the night on the couch watching SportsCenter.
At first, he enjoyed the quiet and the lack of responsibilities. No dishwashers to load, no diapers to change, no fighting with Meredith. But even after seven short days, he's starting to miss being home. He misses playing with the kids. He misses Meredith's warmth on the other side of the bed at night. He misses his family.
A mantra of 'you have no one to blame but yourself' plays on a loop in his mind, a thought that's only compounded by the silence of his phone.
But then, just when he's settling into bed and about to succumb to sleep, his phone chirps. He's half convinced it's just wishful thinking until he picks it up from the nightstand.
It's a text from Meredith. He quickly unlocks his phone to find a video of Zola's performance. There's no message to go along with it, just the video clip, but in that moment, it's more than enough.
Derek watches the thirty second video, and he smiles for the first time in a week.
"We welcome you to join in our feast. Please accept this cornucopia as a symbol of our friendship," Zola says eloquently from the stage, sporting her pilgrim dress and matching hat.
He can hear Bailey, perched on Meredith's lap, clapping for his big sister. "Zo!" he cheers.
Derek's missed their voices, their laughter, the way their little arms wrapped around his neck when they hugged him. He misses everything about them.
"The red, blinky thing means it recorded, right?" comes Meredith's hushed voice behind the camera just before the video ends.
It's the first time Derek's heard her voice since he left. He's missed her voice, her laughter, and her hugs, too. Instead of focusing on the ache deep in his gut, he replays the video over and over again, and saves it to his phone.
Given how their last conversation ended, he knows how much effort it must have taken for Meredith to send him the video. So before going to sleep, Derek texts her back the words Thank you.
...
November 27th, Seattle
It's Thanksgiving, a holiday all about celebrating family. Only this year, Meredith isn't feeling very festive. Derek is off mapping brains in D.C., Cristina is off building hearts from scratch in Switzerland, and she's home, rinsing Bailey off in the tub after a diaper blowout.
Even though Amelia decided to stay to help her with the kids, which is what Meredith is most thankful for this year, it's still hard. Amelia does laundry, helps with mealtimes, has tea parties with Zola, and has stepped up countless times in countless ways. But still, she's not Derek, and as much as Meredith hates to admit it, she misses her teammate.
Especially today, because Amy got called into work, so it's up to Meredith to get both kids dressed, packed, and out the door. They're supposed to be at Alex's in an hour for dinner, but keeping on trend with the past seven days, it's a safe bet they're going to be late.
Zola walks into the bathroom where Meredith is kneeling over the tub, rinsing Bailey's bottom. "Eww, Mommy, he smells," Zola says, as though Meredith didn't know already.
"Yeah, he pooped all over his pajamas. Can you hand me a wash cloth, Zo?" Meredith asks.
Zola takes one from the shelf, and hands it to Meredith. "Here ya go."
"Thank you," Meredith says as she begins cleaning the baby off. "How about you go get dressed while I'm giving Bailey a bath. Then you can watch him for me while I take a quick shower," she suggests, knowing Zola is always eager for big sister duties.
"I don't wanna wear that dress," Zola says.
Meredith sighs, blinking when Bailey splashes water in her eye. "Why not?"
"Because I wanna wear my pilgrim dress from the play, so Uncle Alex can see it," Zola explains eagerly.
Normally, Meredith would try to compromise with her, but she's literally up to her elbows in baby poop. She has to pick her battles wisely, and debating over a Thanksgiving dress isn't worth it.
"That's fine, Zo. Go put it on," Meredith nods.
Zola smiles at her mom in delight, then runs out of the bathroom toward her bedroom. "Thanks, Mommy!" she calls out.
"You're still going to let me dress you in your Thanksgiving outfit, right, buddy?" Meredith asks Bailey, whose light brown curls are matted to his forehead, the same way Derek's did when they got wet. "You look so much like Daddy."
"Dada," Bailey echoes.
Meredith gives him a final rinse, then swaddles him in his bath towel. She wishes both Shepherd men were here today, but for now, she's pretty damn grateful for the one in her arms.
They make it to Alex's house fifteen minutes late, but Meredith still deems arriving at all a victory. Thanksgiving was supposed to be held at their own house as a way to make up for the non-dinner party a few weeks ago, but once Derek left for D.C., Alex stepped in and offered to host.
Of course, the entire meal was ordered in. Alex's oven serves as his liquor cabinet, and even if it didn't, he doesn't know how to turn it on, much less cook a turkey.
The table is set for seven guests: Meredith, Zola, Bailey, Alex, Jo, Richard, and Maggie. It's the most random mixed bag of guests ever invited to a Thanksgiving dinner, but it's good company, at least for a few hours before the turkey comas set in.
Derek's absence is the awkward elephant in the room, one that no one knows how to bring up, so they don't. Instead, Zola and Bailey provide most of the evening's entertainment. She talks all about her play, recites her lines, and teaches them all about the first Thanksgiving. Bailey is his usual funny, charming self, toddling around in his 'Gobble, Gobble, Gobble' shirt and matching pants with the turkey feathers on the butt.
The meal goes surprisingly smoothly. There's laughter and talk of surgery and the night out that Meredith needed. Afterward, Zola and Bailey are playing together, both of their bellies full of turkey, sweet potatoes, and pumpkin pie. Alex and Jo are on the couch laughing about something, Maggie and Richard are perusing Ellis' old bookshelf, and Meredith is sitting on the floor with her kids.
Despite the room full of people, she can't shake how empty if feels without Derek here, too. He Skyped with the kids this morning, but Meredith didn't talk to him, and hasn't for two weeks.
She keeps reminding herself that he's the one that left. He bought the plane ticket. He flew to D.C. and put his career ahead of his family. He made a choice, and now he has to deal with the consequences. But all of that aside, it hurts her to think of him spending Thanksgiving alone.
"I'll be right back," Meredith tells Zola, standing up and going into the empty kitchen.
She sits down at the island and sighs. If she's going to break down, she can't do it in front of Zola and Bailey. The last thing she needs is Zola chatting with Derek over Skype about how Mommy cried on Thanksgiving.
"You okay?" Alex asks after walking into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed a minute," Meredith says.
Alex smirks, popping off the bottle cap. "Liar."
"Shut up."
"It's true," Alex upholds, taking a seat next to her. "You're pissed that Shepherd went to D.C. and left you with two kids to take care of. I'd be pissed, too."
"I'm pissed about everything. And I'm hurt, and I'm exhausted, and I hate what this is doing to my kids," Meredith says.
If he's willing to take over as her person, she's willing to spill. And after two weeks, she really, really needs to.
"And then I feel bad that he probably spent his Thanksgiving on the couch, watching football, eating a bowl of cereal. Is it weird that I feel bad? Does that make me weak and pathetic?" Meredith asks him.
"Sounds like an awesome Thanksgiving to me, actually," Alex shrugs.
Meredith nudges him with her arm. "Alex."
"For him? Yeah, it probably sucked. But that was the tradeoff, right? He gets to map brains all day, then goes home alone. He knew that when he signed on," Alex points out.
"So I shouldn't feel bad?" Meredith clarifies.
"I can't tell you how to feel, Mer."
"You know how I feel? I feel like my mother. Every day, Zola asks me when Daddy's coming home. It's the same thing I used to ask my mom. My mom never had an answer for me, and I don't have an answer for Zola. I always told myself I wouldn't let history repeat itself, but that's what's happening. I feel like I'm failing them," Meredith confesses. She takes a paper napkin left over from dinner and wipes her eyes, grateful that she didn't have time to put mascara on before they left the house.
Alex shakes his head. "As someone whose parents failed him, trust me, you're not failing your kids."
Meredith gives him an incredulous look, wondering if he's just trying to shut her up. "And how do you know that?"
"Because," Alex shrugs. "Your parents didn't care enough to fight for their marriage. You and Shepherd do."
...
December 4th, D.C.
Derek is beginning to realize that being in charge of the brain mapping initiative is a lot like being chief of surgery. When he gets to do actual brain mapping, the high it gives him reminds him of being in the OR. He's advancing the future of medicine, and he's in charge.
But being in charge isn't all it's cracked up to be. Every problem that arises, every administrative hiccup, comes to him. And he's finding that he spends more time behind his desk doing paperwork, on conference calls, or in board meetings that last for hours on end.
As monotonous as the paperwork is, though, Derek often stays late in his office, because it beats sitting at his apartment alone. When he's alone, his mind wanders to his family back home.
With Amelia off at a neuro conference at Mayo, Meredith's been on her own with Zola and Bailey. She's been so busy juggling work and the kids that they haven't had a chance to Skype for three days. It's the longest he's gone without talking to his kids, and the guilt is ready to eat him alive.
Meredith didn't sign on for being a single mom and a full time surgeon, nor did their children have any say in the matter. He knows that this radio silence can't last forever. They need a plan, and the longer they go without making one, the more damage is done.
So when he gets home that night, he decides he needs to call her. He flips his phone over and over in his hands, trying to decide what to say when she answers. Or, if she answers. There's a good chance he'll end up having a lengthy conversation with her voicemail.
Finally, Derek taps her name, the first one on his favorites list. It rings twice before Meredith picks up, and he's met with her soft, tired voice, one he hasn't heard in weeks.
"Hello?" she answers.
Derek swallows, trying not to drop the phone from his sweaty palms. "Hey," he returns. "Is this a good time?"
"I, um… yeah, I guess," Meredith responds.
"You sure? You can call me back later if you're busy," Derek offers.
"No, it's fine. What do you need?" Meredith asks.
Her tone isn't exactly hostile, but it's not warm, either. More indifferent than anything, which is truthfully worse than anger. Derek's stomach churns, but he cuts to the chase.
"We need to talk. About us, about the kids. We need a plan," Derek says.
Meredith sighs. "I know."
An awkward silence falls over both of them. It feels out of character, not knowing what to say to one another, or how to say it. Like a first date, only worse, because they're married with two kids, and have let so much hurt and distance come between them that they don't know to begin picking up the pieces.
"How are the kids?" Derek asks in an attempt to break up the tension.
"Good. Zola's ballet class is doing The Nutcracker. Her performance is on the twentieth. She keeps asking me if you're coming. I didn't know what to tell her," Meredith shares.
Derek flips through his planner, hoping more than anything he's free. Being able to get on Meredith's good side and attend Zola's show would be a miraculous victory for him. But his stomach drops when he sees his jam-packed day on the twentieth, full of things he can't reschedule.
"Damn it. I'm flying to Arlington that morning, and I'm in meetings with the NSF all weekend. I'm sorry," Derek says sincerely, though he knows all Meredith hears is another excuse.
Meredith shrugs. "Don't apologize to me. It's Zola you're hurting. And I'm tired of answering her questions and seeing her cry, so you can tell her," she says.
Derek recoils from the blow, pinching the bridge of his nose as his guilt is taken to a higher level. He's hurting the people he loves most, and it's killing him.
"I know. I'm sorry. Next time I talk to her, I'll tell her," he promises.
"Stop saying you're sorry!" Meredith snaps, closing her bedroom door, so she doesn't wake up the kids. "It was your decision to go. Remember when you lectured me on consequences way back when? Take your own advice. Accept your consequences."
"Are you saying you don't think I'm sorry? That I moved out here and forgot all about you and the kids?" Derek counters.
"What am I supposed to think? It's been three weeks, and this is the first time you bothered to call me," Meredith points out.
Derek pours himself some scotch from the bottle given to him by his research team, their token of gratitude for finally joining the project. Only now, it feels more like a consolation prize than a gift.
"The phone works both ways, Meredith," he says, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth.
He can almost see her biting her lip on the other end of the line, her anger reaching its boiling point. "I've been a little busy here, Derek. Getting the kids ready in the morning without you, dropping Zola off at preschool on time, getting Bailey to daycare. Getting called back to daycare because he's teething and running a fever, then trying to get a hold of the babysitter to come pick him up while I'm supposed to be prepping my patient for surgery," Meredith spouts off.
"I shouldn't have—" Derek says before she cuts him off.
"Then, I get home at night after working a twelve hour shift, try to find something to make the kids for dinner while I help Zola with her homework and have Bailey on my hip. Then I give them baths, and let them play as I load the dishwasher and do laundry. If I have time, I'll either take a shower or eat dinner that night. One or the other. Then I do it all again the next day. So, I'm sorry if I haven't had time to chat with you," Meredith finishes.
Derek doesn't know what to say. Somehow, saying he's sorry again seems like a bad choice that will end with her hanging up on him. "I… you're right. I shouldn't have said that. You're doing the best you can, and please know how grateful I am. It shouldn't have happened this way."
"But it did. You made a choice for you, and it affected all of us. I'm happy for you that you're getting this chance. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you've worked hard to get there. We're both choosing ambition on opposite ends of the country, and there's no easy fix here," Meredith admits.
Derek nods. "I know."
"You came to Seattle all those years ago for a fresh start, and that's what you and I built together. Only it's not the two of us anymore. And I'll be damned if my kids grow up with the childhood I had. I will not become my mother, Derek. So before you ask me why I'm clinging to Seattle, ask yourself if D.C. is worth what you're giving up to be there."
Bailey begins fussing over the monitor, and Meredith sighs. "Bailey's up. I have to go," she says. "I'll make sure the kids Skype with you tomorrow."
She hangs up the phone before he has a chance to say goodbye, and he's left sitting there in silence, his home screen photo of Zola and Bailey from Halloween staring back at him.
...
Part Two to follow.
