A/N: This is a very Meredith-centric chapter. Among other things, I've attempted to write her in therapy, which was an interesting endeavor, considering that my only experience with therapy was in the ninth grade when my mother sent me to a family counselor (apparently it was completely insane that I wanted to live with my dad rather than move 300 miles away with her) and I definitely pulled a Meredith Grey and spent five sessions not talking. I apologize if this is nowhere near what therapy is like in real life. Because I DID have such a hard time writing this chapter, AND it's about 2,000 words longer than previous updates...I'd really love to know what you think :) I appreciate those who've reviewed as always, but seriously...if you've stuck with me for 30,000 words...please take a few seconds to let me know what you think/like/don't like/love/hate/etc. Feedback is incredibly motivating!

Meredith had planned to spend Thanksgiving at the hospital again, just like she had the previous year. She told herself it was because she still didn't do the family and holiday thing, but she couldn't help but wonder if the reason last year had been so tolerable was that she'd spent it with Derek. Sort of. In that awkward, working with your ex-boyfriend who's avoiding his wife by helping you with a patient who won't wind up making it anyway kind of way. Derek wasn't going home this year either, but Addison wasn't around, so she wouldn't be surprised if he worked, too, but she tried to convince herself that he was not even a tiny factor in her decision to spend the holiday at the hospital. In the end, though, it didn't matter whether he was, because the Chief had turned down her request to work; apparently human resources had instituted a new policy prohibiting any employee from working the same holiday in two consecutive years. It had been designed to prevent people from constantly missing holidays with their families, but it had the unfortunate side effect, Meredith thought, of working against those who didn't have families or anything better to do during the holiday season.

So instead of distracting herself with the mishaps and maladies that could only happen on Thanksgiving, she found herself awake at the crack of dawn (as if she'd ever really fallen asleep) and in the kitchen helping Izzie cook dinner. Meredith's culinary skills extended to opening cans of cranberry sauce, which apparently didn't need to happen until just before they ate, but Izzie seemed determine to enlist Meredith's help in preparing complicated dishes like…stuffing, and green bean casserole. Somehow she managed not to burn down the kitchen and ruin Izzie's dinner, and when the doorbell rang at five o'clock, Meredith had just put the finishing touches on her cranberry sauce—emptying the can into one of her grandmother's serving dishes. She brushed her hands on her jeans as she went to answer the door, expecting George or Cristina. Instead, she opened the door to a deliveryman with an elegant vase filled with white lilies and tall stalks of lavender blossoms. She was going to kill Derek—but they were undeniably beautiful, and she was reluctantly a little flattered.

She pocketed the card that had accompanied the flowers before Izzie could see it; the arrangement he'd sent the day before hadn't had a card, and Meredith was perfectly fine with everyone thinking that these had been sent anonymously, too. Derek's name had become taboo in the house over the last two weeks, and Meredith wanted neither sympathy nor lectures from her friends.

"Is that George?" Izzie called from the kitchen.

"No," Meredith replied, burying her nose in the flowers and inhaling the soothing scent slowly.

Izzie appeared in the doorway, hand on her hip. "Are those more flowers? Did they have a card?" she practically squealed with excitement.

"No," Meredith lied. "I don't know who sent them—but aren't they pretty?"

"They're expensive," Izzie noted. "Those flowers won't be in season for another three or four months—someone is spending some serious money on those. You're not going to put them in the dining room, are you?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Meredith said defensively.

"They're beautiful," Izzie said quickly, "but they won't match the decorations. I already put out the red and gold table linens and I made a fall centerpiece from some silk flowers I picked up at the craft store—"

Meredith privately thought that Izzie invested way too much time and energy in this holiday thing. "I'm going to put them in my room," she assured her. "I'll keep my clashing flowers away from your Good Housekeeping spread." She carefully took the flowers upstairs and placed them on her dresser, where she could see them from her bed. In the privacy of her own room, she opened the card to read it. Just because. She wasn't exactly sure what he meant by that, but it made her smile anyway.

By the time she made it back downstairs, Alex had made it back home after his shift at the hospital, Cristina'a voice emanated from the kitchen, and the doorbell signaled what must be George's arrival. "I've got it, Iz," Meredith called. She hurried to the front door and opened it to reveal George and—

"Lexie!" her sister's name came out as surprised breath.

"I invited her," George said quickly, obviously anticipating a protest from Meredith.

"I can't stay long," Lexie added, her cheeks flushing pink with nerves. "Molly is here from Portland with Laura, and this is our first holiday without Mom—well, since her birthday, I mean—so we should be with our dad—I mean, your dad, too, of course—our dad, all of our dad—but I thought, you know—we should see you, too, because you are our sister even if we're not really close yet, but I thought we were getting along better, and, well—George invited me," she finished weakly.

"It's okay," Meredith said, nodding as she stood aside to let them in. Trying. She was trying here. Lexie was her half-sister, and she was making an effort, and so Meredith…Meredith was trying. "Molly—is she—I mean…how is Laura? I haven't seen her since she left the hospital."

"She's great," Lexie smiled eagerly. "She's really, really doing great. She's crawling everywhere now and starting to pull up on stuff—I haven't seen her since my mom died and she was only like, two months old then and she's gotten so big now. Molly—Molly wanted to come with me, but you know, we thought someone should stay with Dad and since Molly didn't know you were our sister—I mean, she knew you were our sister, but she didn't know you were our sister—until after she and Laura left the hospital, she thought it would be better if I came instead. And George invited me. But Molly wanted me to bring you this—" she reached into her purse and rummaged for a second before she took out something the size of a baseball card and held it out to Meredith.

"It's Laura," Lexie explained, but Meredith had realized that much already. The picture of the baby was almost identical to the photos in her own baby albums, tucked away and gathering dust in the attic—if Molly had looked this much like Meredith as a child, it made Thatcher's mix-up over the picture by the tree a little more understandable—not forgivable, but understandable. "Molly wanted you to have a picture of our niece."

Meredith managed a smile. "Tell her thank you for me," she said. "I'm going to go put it on the mantle for now, so I won't lose it. Izzie is in the kitchen—I think she's ready for us to eat now, since you're here."

When she joined everyone else in the kitchen, Meredith was immediately claimed by Cristina. "Where the hell have you been? I've been stuck in here with Izzie, and she wants me to help arrange things for presentation. I don't present food, and do you seriously not have any booze? Did you learn nothing last year?"

"There's wine in the fridge," Meredith replied. "Don't complain to me about Izzie; I had to make casseroles all morning, and George brought Lexie."

"Oh poor you," Cristina replied sarcastically. "At least you didn't spend the morning doing grunt work for Hahn just to be allowed to hold a freaking retractor like an intern."

"Hey!" Lexie and George said with simultaneous indignation.

"People, let's be happy," Izzie suggested. "It's Thanksgiving. We're not supposed to be complaining; we're supposed to be grateful for all the good things happening in our lives."

Meredith wondered if Izzie realized who she was talking to. Good things didn't exactly happen in abundance to the group assembled in her kitchen, especially not in the last year. Cristina had lost a relationship and the professional advancement she'd enjoyed under Burke's mentoring; Izzie herself had dealt with Denny, nearly lost her job, and then there was that mess with George; George had lost his father, gotten married, gotten divorced, and gotten to repeat his intern year; Alex…kept everything to himself, but had surely dealt with his own share of trouble; Lexie had lost her mother. And Meredith…well, Meredith's year of trials was near-legendary.

Izzie seemed to realize her mistake and grabbed a stack of plates. "Let's just eat, okay? We need a guy--Alex, do you want to carve the turkey?"

Alex reached for the knife as George protested, "Hey, I could have done it! I'm a man, too—"

"Yeah, but I know how to cut," Alex said with his characteristic smirk. "When you want someone who knows what they're doing with a knife, you go to a surgeon, Bambi, not an intern."

George faltered, unable to put together a solid come-back, but Alex had served his purpose and broken some of the awkward tension of the situation. By the time they sat down around the dining room table, they had slipped back into their usual routine of teasing and mocking one another, and the holiday didn't seem quite so unbearable anymore.

Lexie stayed for an hour before mentioning hesitantly that she should be leaving for Thanksgiving with her family; George left with her, since she'd been his ride. Izzie had been slightly dejected that they left before dessert, but Cristina's exit didn't surprise her as much. "Cristina just doesn't get holidays," she said as she handed out generous portions of pumpkin pie to Alex and Meredith. Meredith wasn't sure that she got them either, but this one hadn't been awful.

Alex disappeared after he'd finished two helpings of pie, leaving Meredith to help Izzie clean up. It took them the better part of an hour, but eventually, the dishwasher was stuffed full, the counters wiped down, the leftovers put away, and the dining room restored to its normal configuration. Izzie announced that she was going upstairs for a much-needed and deserved shower; Meredith followed her example, stopping first to retrieve the picture of Molly's baby from the fireplace mantle so she could put it in a photo box upstairs.

The flowers from Derek had filled her bedroom with the faint, soothing scent of lavender. She stopped by her dresser and flipped the picture over. An unfamiliar hand—Molly's, she guessed—had written Laura Grey Thompson, six months, for her Aunt Meredith. Aunt Meredith. She'd never thought of herself that way before; Laura wasn't her niece the way that Derek's sisters' kids where his nieces. She was sure he was the beloved, favorite uncle who always gave them special treats and played with them and said yes when their mothers said no. She didn't feel like Laura's aunt; she was just…Laura's mother's half-sister, who had only held Laura on a few occasions, and as a doctor, not a family member. She didn't know how to be an aunt, any more than she knew how to be a sister…or a girlfriend.

But Molly had given her a picture of the baby, and Laura heard about her as Aunt Meredith. And Derek was sending her flowers—"just because." It didn't make sense to her, but she took the picture and the florist's card and tucked their corners into the mirror's frame, then took in another deep breath of lavender.

She still slept fitfully that night—she hadn't slept the night through in two weeks—but when she did wake up, it didn't take her quite as long to fall asleep as it had been for the past few nights. She thought it must be the lavender.

Whatever it was, she arrived at the hospital the next morning feeling more rested than she had in a while—not completely back on her game, but not totally exhausted either. She found a note taped to her cubby, telling her to report to the chief's office immediately. She couldn't imagine why he needed to see her, but she changed into her scrubs quickly and started toward his office. On the way, she tried to think of what he could want with her—she hadn't made any mistakes with her patients recently, and she and Derek had just worked out a schedule for the two months that allowed to her to complete her core rotations while spending one day a week on neuro, so it couldn't be about that. Lost in her own thoughts, she yelped in surprise when she rounded a corner and nearly ran into a very solid male chest.

"Hey," Derek said softly, a hint of a smile playing on his features. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"I had a note to see the Chief," she explained. She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully for a moment before adding, "I got your flowers yesterday. They're beautiful."

"I'm glad you liked them," he replied.

"But Derek, you have to stop," she said. "My roommates are starting to think I have some creepy stalker obsessed with me—and really, it's too much. I know how much it must be costing you, and it makes me uncomfortable."

"Don't worry about the cost," he told her. "I'm not, and you're worth it anyway. But if it's too much for you, I'll slow down to once a week."

She started to protest, but recognized the teasing sparkle in his eyes and smiled. "I do like them, though, really. Thank you," she said instead.

"You're welcome," he returned. "You're on OB today, right?"

She nodded. "My boss thought I could use the break from ortho."

"Sounds like a pretty nice boss. How was your Thanksgiving?"

She hesitated. She wanted to tell him about Lexie, how she'd welcomed her sister into her home, and about Laura and Molly, and how she didn't know how to be Aunt Meredith. She wanted to tell him how she'd only almost ruined the green bean casserole, and she knew it would make him laugh if she told him how she'd perfected the art of cranberry sauce from a can. "It was…good. Yours?"

"Good," he answered. "Phoned in my appearance to the festivities in Connecticut, got the guilt trip from my sisters for breaking my mother's heart by staying away for so long, and spent the day fishing. I can only think of one thing that would have made it better."

She knew he wanted her to ask what that was, but she also already knew the answer. It was her cue to leave. "I need to go—the Chief—"

"Right," he nodded understandingly. "Have a good day, Dr. Grey."

"You too, Dr. Shepherd." She smiled softly before stepping around him and continuing across the bridge to the Chief's office. Patricia was sitting at her desk outside his office, and looked up as she approached.

"Good morning, Dr. Grey," she said. "Dr. Webber is expecting you; go right in."

Meredith knocked anyway before slowly pushing the door open. She always felt a little like she was going to the principal's office when she had to meet with the Chief. It didn't help that her interactions with him were always tainted with the awkwardness of his history in her life. His comments that he'd once changed her diapers had been weird enough before she realized that he'd had an affair with her mother, and his odd pseudo-fatherly attitude toward her was usually discomforting at best—but after he'd walked in on her and Derek and seen her half-naked, she really preferred to limit their interaction as much as possible.

She cleared her throat to announce her presence. "You wanted to see me, Chief?"

He looked up from the paperwork on his desk. "Ah, Meredith. Come in, please, have a seat."

She carefully lowered herself into the chair in front of his desk. Definitely like seeing the principal. She played with her watch, twisting it around her wrist, clasping it and unclasping it, as she bit her lower lip and waited to hear her fate.

"Meredith, I know your mother was a very private person," he began. Great. He wanted to talk about Ellis—because she wasn't an awkward conversation topic between them at all. "Your mother liked to keep her personal life separated from her work life, and that was why she wanted her final arrangements the way she did. I know that what I'm about to suggest might seem at first to be against what your mother would like, but I ask you to hear me out anyway.

"Your mother was held in the highest regard in our profession. She worked with many of the most prominent physicians in the country, and she had numerous colleagues who admired her work and the woman herself. When she retired and withdrew so suddenly from the public eye, no one really understood why, and when her diagnosis came out after her death—I'm sure you can understand the shock wave that went through the medical community. Of course you did the right thing by respecting her wishes, but I hope you understand that many of those who knew her were disappointed with the lack of opportunity to honor her memory—"

"Dr. Webber, where is this going?" Meredith interrupted.

"Your mother is largely responsible for the reputation of Seattle Grace as one of the foremost medical facilities on the west coast. This is where she pioneered the Grey method, and she was based here for the first of her Harper Avery awards. The board of trustees wants to pay tribute to her legacy and her impact on the hospital by holding a fundraiser in her honor next month."

Meredith's eyes narrowed. She understood now. This had nothing to do with her mother's memory. "I think you mean that people—wealthy, influential people--are looking for a place to make a donation by the end of the year so they can get a break on their taxes, and you want to use my mother's memory to make sure the hospital gets their share of that money."

"Meredith—" he started.

"No," she cut him off. "You knew her—and that you of all people would support this, knowing how much she'd hate it—you would sell her out for a profit—"

"The hospital does anticipate that your mother's influence will increase donations, yes," Webber admitted. "But you should know that there are plans to use a part any funds donated in her name to create a more permanent tribute to her life and work. There's a proposal to establish an endowed research position in her name—to continue her work, Meredith. This is about more than the hospital turning a profit—it's about making sure that your mother isn't forgotten, to ensure her legacy—"

Meredith bolted upright out of her chair. "She has a legacy!" she snapped. "I'm her legacy, and I remember her. She wouldn't want this—"

"Wouldn't she, Meredith?" Webber argued. "Meredith, your mother was an incredible woman, and a gifted surgeon. She was brilliant, and strong, and she had to be if she wanted to be taken seriously. She made her name when there were very few women in the field, and she was proud of that. Ellis wanted to prove herself, wanted her accomplishments recognized—she wanted to be the best. I think she'd have loved an event that was all about her."

Meredith shook her head stubbornly. "Not like this. She was proud of her achievements, and you're right, she loved anything that acknowledged what she'd done in her career. But she wouldn't have wanted this—she wouldn't have wanted her work looked at in the context of what the Alzheimer's took from her. She didn't even want people to know about her diagnosis. She made it clear how she wanted her death handled after she was first diagnosed. She told me that she didn't want people to stand around after she was gone talking about what a shame it was that all her intelligence had gone to waste—and that's exactly what you're proposing. She wouldn't have wanted it."

Webber sighed. "I'm afraid it isn't up to you or me, and certainly not up to your mother. The trustees have already decided to go through with it, and the preparations have begun. This meeting was simply to inform you of the plans, and let you know that you are expected to attend."

"No," she refused. "I won't do it."

"Dr. Grey, your attendance will be mandatory," he replied firmly. His expression softened slightly as he continued, "Meredith, you are Ellis Grey's daughter. Her only family. In addition to potential donors, many of your mother's former colleagues will be invited. They'll want to pay their condolences to you, and it wouldn't reflect well on you, or your mother, if you weren't at an event in her honor."

Meredith crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. "Are we finished here?" she asked.

"Yes," Webber nodded. As she turned her back to him and stalked away, he called after her, "Meredith, I hope you change your mind about this. I truly believe your mother would have been honored by this event--"

She didn't bother with a response; by the time he finished his sentence, the door was already slamming shut behind her.

That night at her therapy appointment, she spent the first few minutes of her session in silence, trying to gather her thoughts. Dr. Hadden tapped her pen on her notebook, keeping up a steady staccato that marked the passing seconds, occasionally glancing at the clock upon the wall over Meredith's head.

"Meredith…I understand that there's a lot going on with you, but I can't do anything if you don't talk to me about it," Dr. Hadden prodded gently when Meredith still hadn't talked after five minutes.

Meredith looked up and sighed. "Lexie came to Thanksgiving dinner last night."

Dr. Hadden flipped back a page in her notes, running one finger down the paper to find a mention of Lexie's name. "Lexie—so we're talking abut your half-sisters today?"

"The hospital wants to throw a big party to solicit money from people and call it a tribute to my mother's life," Meredith continued.

"Okay—your mother, then," Dr. Hadden amended. "I take it you're not happy about this party?"

Meredith had shifted her attention to a slight stain on the carpet; she barely heard the therapist's question. She cared about the fundraiser, and she still wasn't sure how she felt about sharing the holiday with Lexie, but neither of those was monopolizing her thoughts like something else was. "Derek has been sending me flowers. He wants to get back together."

Dr. Hadden raised an eyebrow. "Derek. We haven't talked much about Derek. Do you want to start today with him?"

Meredith shook her head. "I don't know. I…don't know." She couldn't stop thinking about him, but talking about him…that was a different story.

"Okay, then let's talk about Derek," Dr. Hadden decided. "We've got to start somewhere. What's happened with Derek since I saw you on Monday?"

"He wants to get back together," Meredith said again. She took a deep breath and continued, "I had to go to his office for a meeting—a work meeting--and he wanted to talk about us. He said he wants me. That he wants us to work. He wanted another chance."

Dr. Hadden scrawled something in her notebook. Meredith thought it was a very therapist-like move. "How do you feel about that?"

"I…didn't exactly tell him no," Meredith admitted after a long pause, quickly adding, "I mean, I told him no. No, for now. But maybe…" she trailed off.

Dr. Hadden sighed and leaned forward in her chair. "Meredith, do you want to be with Derek?"

"I don't know…" Meredith replied. Liar. She knew. She wanted him; she knew she did. She was a liar. Lying, lying liar.

Dr. Hadden knew she was a liar. "Meredith, I think you know."

"Okay," Meredith gave in under the therapist's scrutinizing stare. "I do. I do know…I do want him."

"Now we're getting somewhere," Dr. Hadden said encouragingly. "So you want to be with Derek. He wants to be with you. What's stopping you?"

"I don't know." Those three words were becoming her new "I'm fine"—her go-to phrase when she didn't want to think about or acknowledge the truth.

Unfortunately, Dr. Hadden refused to accept it. "Why did you break up?"

Meredith hesitated—telling the whole story of why they'd broken up, their trust issues that dated back to her drowning and even further to Addison, her own abandonment issues from childhood and Derek's impatience when it came to advancing their relationship—it would take hours. She settled for the short version, the final straw. "There was someone else. Derek…Derek had plans for us, things he wanted for us, and I wasn't ready. I'd told him I'd get ready, but when I found out about her…I thought he'd gotten tired of waiting. We weren't exclusive when he met her, but I found out and we fought—I told him he didn't want me, that he just wanted someone…" She knew she was leaving out the rest. Her inability to trust him. His accusation that she didn't trust anyone, would never trust him. That was probably something she should tell her therapist—but she wasn't sure she could trust her, either.

"But he's not seeing her now, right? That's what you said Monday," Dr. Hadden asked. Meredith nodded. "And he's telling you that he wants you—so I think there must be something else going on to keep you apart. Do you believe him when he tells you that he wants to be with you?"

Meredith thought of how her heart had skipped a beat when he'd said it. I want you, and only you. How for a second, she'd felt something like hope again before her fear and her self-preservation instincts had quelled the insurgent optimism. The eager honesty in his eyes as he'd pleaded with her for another shot. "I want to," she said softly. "I want to believe him."

"But you don't."

"I—I want to."

"Meredith, you told me that when you first met Derek, he was still married, and didn't tell you at first. He told you his was divorcing his wife, but then he ended things with you to try to work on his marriage. That must have hurt you very badly." Meredith felt tears prickling her eyes and fought them back. She refused to be reduced to a sobbing mess in therapy; she nodded slightly instead, and Dr. Hadden continued in her soothing tone, "Meredith, I think you want to believe Derek, but you're afraid of being hurt again. Am I right?"

She would not cry. No tears. "I don't know." I don't know, I'm fine. Liar, liar, liar. I'm scared as hell to want you, but here I am wanting you anyway…

"I think you do" Dr. Hadden insisted, "but if you're not ready to talk about it, okay. Let me ask you this—do you think you and Derek can work?"

Meredith didn't have to think about that answer; it was a question she'd asked herself dozens—hundreds—of times. "Not—not like this. I—I'm not ready. I have things to work on—things to get over—"

"Meredith, I suspect that Derek is the major driving force behind your decision to see me. Based on the little I know, I'm not convinced that this is a healthy relationship for you to be in," Dr. Hadden confessed, her forehead wrinkling slightly to accompany her worried frown. "I can't stress enough the importance of seeking therapy for your personal well-being, and not for a destructive relationship—"

"It is for me!" Meredith cried. "And our relationship isn't destructive—I am. I mean, Derek's not perfect, and he has things to work on, too, but he knows how to be happy. I'm all dark and twisty and…"

I feel like one of those people who are so freaking miserable that they can't be around normal people. Like I'll infect the happy people.

She realized that she'd said those words a year ago, and they still held true. Nothing had changed. Everything was different, but nothing had changed. She was still poisoning the people around her and ruining any chance she had at functional adulthood because she just…couldn't stop being miserable.

"I don't want to be like this," she continued. "I want to be able to be happy, and I thought I could do it myself—work on my problems myself. And I did what I could, but I need help, and that's why I'm here. It's not just because of Derek—it's me. I'm tired of being so miserable that I sabotage myself in any relationship I have. I love Derek, but I don't know how to let him love me, and I have a half-sister who is a little annoying, but basically a good person and she wants to know me. She wants to be my family, and I can't get to know her because I don't know how to forgive her for just…being born and having our father. Before she died, I tried to drive away my stepmother who was…really pretty fantastic. I have a baby niece and I'm supposed to be her Aunt Meredith and I don't have a clue how to be her aunt. My mother and I barely got along, and now she's dead, and my father—I don't even know…"

You've managed to alienate everyone else in your life…

I don't want my mother to die alone…

The apple fell pretty far from the tree, huh?

"I just…I don't want to be like my mother," she whispered. "I don't want to spend my life alone and die alone, and have no one to miss me."

I think it's better to have someone, even if it hurts, even if it is the most painful thing you have done, even if it's the most painful thing you've ever had to do. I think it's better to have someone.

"Okay, then let's talk about this," Dr. Hadden prompted. "What do you think is stopping you from forming close relationships with the people in your life?"

Meredith froze. She was exhausted, physically and mentally drained. She couldn't handle thinking about this truth today, but this was the second time Dr. Hadden had tried to draw the reason out of her. She'd worded it differently, tried to make Meredith think it was a different question—Meredith had learned that trick in her psych classes at Dartmouth—so that Meredith would be fooled into admitting that she was terrified of being left again, abandoned like she had been by every major figure in her life. Meredith didn't want to admit it, but she had learned in her previous sessions that Dr. Hadden was nothing if not persistent. "Maybe…I'm afraid," she offered hesitantly, hoping that that would be enough to appease Dr. Hadden for now.

"Maybe?" Dr. Hadden repeated skeptically.

Meredith drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, curling up like a little girl in her chair. "I am afraid," she admitted in a small voice. "I don't want to be hurt again."

Dr. Hadden smiled warmly at the breakthrough and reclined in her chair. "You've been hurt a lot, haven't you?" she asked gently. Meredith nodded weakly. "By Derek?" Another hesitant nod. "But you still want to be with him?"

Meredith looked up and shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "He makes me happy," she murmured. "Even though he's hurt me…he still makes me happy, most of the time. I just…I'm so afraid of being hurt again."

"Does Derek know that? Does he know that's why you don't trust him?" Dr. Hadden asked.

Meredith thought about the fight that had ended it all, when she'd brought up Rose and Addison and blamed her inability to trust on them. He was a brain surgeon—surely he could understand that it was the hurt from being left that connected to the trust issues, even if she hadn't said it in exactly those words? Especially when she'd just told him a few days earlier, too, that she needed something solid to believe in before she could chance their relationship again. He should understand, but Derek could be a little dense sometimes, when his idealism and his dreams shadowed reality—when he didn't want to deal with the truth. She hoped he knew, but she couldn't be sure. "I think he does…maybe."

Dr. Hadden closed her notebook and set it aside with a sigh. She clasped her hands together, lacing her fingers as though to pray, and leaned forward again. "Meredith…if you're going to see any changes, you have to let the people in your life know what you expect from them. You need to know what you need from them to help you establish trust in them. What do you need from people? What do you need from Derek?"

"I…I told him that it's not enough for him to tell me things will be different if we try again. I told him he needs to show me…give me a reason to believe," Meredith replied.

"What is that going to look like?" Dr. Hadden asked harshly.

Meredith recoiled, shaking her head. "I don't know yet." She hadn't thought much about it, hadn't figured out what, exactly, Derek could show her to make them okay. She'd just planned on it buying her some time, keeping him far enough that he couldn't hurt her again, until she figured the rest out.

"Do you think Derek can get your trust back? Do you think you'll ever get to a point that you trust him not to hurt you again?" Dr. Hadden pressed.

"I don't know."

Dr. Hadden's tone changed, becoming something at once both supportive and serious. "Meredith…this is a good step. I feel like you're starting to make some progress. Let me ask you this though: do you believe you can change? That these things we're working on can be fixed, and you won't be…what did you call it…dark and twisty anymore? Do you believe that things are going to get better this time?"

Meredith couldn't answer at first. She'd always been dark and twisty. Scared and damaged. The brooding girl in black with the pink hair; the seven year old whose school counselor sent home notes saying, "Meredith is a bright girl, but she doesn't seem happy and doesn't make many attempts to engage with the other children.". The embarrassment at family reunions. The girl whose favorite form of self-medication involved handsome strangers and copious volumes of tequila. Remarkably screwed up. She couldn't imagine not being dark and twisty. She'd given up on ever being bright and shiny. Except—she hadn't. Being here, allowing this near-stranger to torture her by cutting open her deepest wounds, meant that she hadn't completely lost hope. "Yes." Her voice lacked much confidence, but she'd said it. It was out there now, and she couldn't take it back.

"Why should Derek believe you?" Dr. Hadden challenged. "You've told him before that you'd change, that you'd get better, get ready."

"I—I am—I will this time," Meredith stammered, unnerved by the unexpected affront from the woman she was supposed to be trusting.

"But he's heard it before—" Dr. Hadden accused.

"But I mean it this time—I'm making the effort—I'm in freaking therapy—" Meredith insisted desperately. She didn't have the energy left to fight, and suddenly bailing on the whole therapy thing didn't seem like such a bad idea. She had come to therapy to have things make sense, not to wind up more confused than she'd been when she started, and her therapist suddenly turning on her? That definitely qualified as confusing.

"You are," Dr. Hadden agreed. "But he doesn't know that—so how is he supposed to know that this time will be any different? What I'm trying to get you to see is that based on what you've told me, Derek is trusting that you're going to make good on your promises this time, even though experience would indicate otherwise."

"What's your point?" Meredith asked warily.

"The point is…Meredith, you're absolutely very smart to want to take a break and take your time before committing to a relationship again, and to ask Derek to regain your trust. But I also want you to be prepared for the reality of this situation—"

"Which is what?" She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"Derek has no way to know that you're getting better, but he's willing to risk being hurt again to give your relationship another chance. I believe you're going to make great strides with our meetings, but whether we're talking about your relationship with Derek or your sisters or your father—whoever—nothing I can tell you, no suggestion I can make, is ever going to make you one-hundred-percent certain that you won't get hurt again," Dr. Hadden explained gently.

"If you keep playing it safe and keeping people at a distance because they might hurt you, you're only going to be denying yourself that happiness you want. If you're not ready right now, that's okay, but you need to be prepared. At some point in this journey, you're going to have to make a leap of faith, even if there's a chance you'll get hurt, to see that you really trust someone. It's not really trust if there's not a risk involved. I know that's frightening…but that's what makes the result worth it."

Fear means I have something to lose, right? And I don't want to lose you.

Fear meant she had something to lose. It seemed fitting, then, that Meredith left her therapy session terrified. She had to work things out, had to find a way to trust and to move on, because if she couldn't--she had everything to lose.