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Happy Monday!


I stand in her doorway and I watch her sleep. I watch her because in just a few hours, she'll be walking away and onto the next leg of her adventure. Her backpack is packed and propped against my spare desk. Her shoes are neatly placed beside it and her clothes for tomorrow—today—are folded on the desk. It's barely five in the morning and we're already late, but I need another minute just watching her; I need another moment knowing, for a fact, that she's alright and safe.

It's strange to think that just two weeks ago, I was finishing my final exam in chemistry three, and getting ready to spend the night drinking with Mark and our other friends. Two weeks ago, I brought that girl Megan home and spent the night with her. Two weeks and a day ago, I pulled Meredith from the alleyway and brought her home. Two weeks ago, I was a philandering, over-privileged alpha-male, claiming what I wanted with no thought as to who it may hurt, and thinking of nothing but myself and my next drink.

Meredith snores in her sleep, I learn. She sleeps on her left side, facing the windows. She curls her hands beneath her chin and angles her face down. Her legs are tucked up in the fetal position and the toes on her right foot hang out from beneath the heavy comforter. Her breathing is deep and even and if not for the sound of her snores and the gentle wisp of her breath, I'd have no idea she was even alive.

We haven't spoken candidly about her life or her father since Monday. I worked Tuesday afternoon, only to return home to the scent of cooking lasagna. Meredith found my recipe and finished the lasagna from the night before. But we ignored her tears from the beach and Meredith spoke of pleasant things—finishing her degree, finding a stable home, and buying a dog…someday. I can't ask her about her father and until she provides the information for me, I am left wondering how he died.

The sky grows lighter with each minute and I can't wait any longer.

I cross around Meredith's bed and sit beside her knees. Her mouth is a perfect pout as she sleeps. I place my hand on her shoulder and gently shake her awake, "Meredith," I whisper. Her eyes spring open with surprise. "Hey," I smile.

She runs her hand over her eyes and forces herself to sit up. "What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, we have somewhere to be."

Meredith looks out the window and then to the clock on her side table. 5:07. "Derek," she groans and falls back onto the mattress, "it's not even morning yet."

I smirk and stand up, grabbing her hand as I go, "It's morning and we have somewhere to be. It's time sensitive," I tug her to sit up on the edge of her bed. "You have five minutes to get dressed. I'll bring the hot chocolate."

The morning is in the fifties, so I gather a blanket and thermos of hot chocolate and sit outside Meredith's room and wait. She stumbles out—literally—a few minutes later. She braces herself on her doorframe with a grimace. I try not to laugh. "I hate you for waking me up so early. Where are you dragging me to?"

"Upstairs."

"Upstairs?"

"Come on."

I begin to ascend the stairs past the fourth and fifth floors, before reaching the roof access door. Months ago, my landlord had mentioned fixing up the roof for all the tenants, but he never got around to it. Mostly, the roof houses dead potted plants and a filthy ashtray, but there are also two folding chairs and one fallen tiki torch. I push the two chairs together and lay a blanket on the chair for Meredith; she's already shivering.

Meredith sits down beside me and pulls the blanket onto her lap. I offer her hot chocolate and lean back for the sun.

It's been forever since I've seen the sun rise over the city. Months, even. Recently, the only time I've seen the rising sun is when I've been out all night drinking or coming back from a girl's house.

Meredith drinks from the thermos and passes it to me. I take a long swig—burning my tongue, of course—and feel the warmth of the hot chocolate warming my insides. "I haven't seen the sun rise in forever," she sighs.

"I was just thinking the same thing."

She glances at me, her golden hair falling into her face, "Is this where you're going to ask me to stay?"

I smirk, unable to tear my eyes from hers. "Not yet. Maybe after the sun rises."

At exactly 5:25, the sun begins to rise in the east. It takes a few more minutes for the yellow orb to reach us, but in that time, the sky turns from deep, deep blue, to purple, to pink before it shines a brilliant yellow. Shadows creep across the roof and the buildings surrounding us and the city is miraculously quiet below. Meredith holds the thermos in her hands, every once and a while offering me a sip. She brings her legs to her chest as her face bathes in the morning light.

My parents' house in New Canaan is a quiet place. The neighbors are at least three acres away and our property is surrounded by trees on three sides. I can lie in the backyard and hardly hear a car. It's the perfect place to watch the sun rise or set. It's hard to make out the sun at the beginning, but slivers of light pool through the sparse trees and bathe the manicured lawn in yellows, reds, and oranges. It's wonderfully peaceful and for just a second, I can forget that I'm on a filthy rooftop with traffic gliding down below; for a second, I'm home where it's quiet and warm.

Once the sun fully rises above our eye line, Meredith curls her legs under herself and regards me.

It's time.

"Where will you go first?" I ask.

"I'm headed off the island and then south through New Jersey."

"And then?"

"I'm thinking Virginia. I'll stay there for a little while and then make my way to Florida, maybe."

I run my fingers through my hair, feeling tension building in my chest and shoulders. "Where will you stay in Virginia?"

"Maybe some nice, clueless, attractive guy will take pity on me again." She smirks at me.

"Attractive?"

Meredith blushes and settles back in her seat. "I knew you'd pick up on that."

"I don't get why you won't stay."

"Do you know the penalty for harboring a minor in this state?"

I shake my head. I should have looked it up when Meredith first came into my life, but before I knew it, I wanted her around. I want her around. I've laid in bed during the last two weeks and wondered what might happen if anyone found out; Mark could tell anyone he wanted to, or maybe someone could see us together and question our relationship. At any moment, my landlord could show up and question me about the young woman staying in my apartment. But somewhere along the line, I no longer cared what people thought. At some point, I decided the better thing to do—no matter the consequence—was to keep her here, safe, with me.

"I don't care what the penalty is."

"It's three-to-twelve months in jail and up to a one-thousand dollar fine. You should care about that."

"Who's going to find out about you?"

"Anyone who sees my face on the side of a milk carton or on one of those missing kids' websites. It wouldn't take much to figure out who I am Derek, if someone wanted to."

I stand up from the chair, unable to sit still and watch her telling me she's leaving. "Do you understand what could happen to you if you go? What do you think would have happened if I didn't bring you here?"

"I have no idea," she says quietly. "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me Derek. I could never repay you for everything you gave me, but I don't think you understand the severity of what you're doing here. It's dangerous and someone could very easily figure out who I am."

"I haven't even figured out who you are. Trust me, no one else will."

Meredith sets the thermos down on the ground and rises from the chair to stand in front of me. The sun feels too hot now; my skin feels like its blistering. "My name is Meredith Elise Grey." My eyes snap to hers. "You were the first person I didn't lie to about my name," she smiles, but her gaze doesn't falter. "I was born October 11, 1993 in Boston, Massachusetts. We moved from our Boston apartment when I was six and my parents bought a big house in Ipswich. Our time share was in the Berkshires. That's where my dad taught me about the stars." She fiddles with the ties of her sweatshirt. "My mom is a surgeon. She's pretty famous, actually. Ellis Grey."

"Your mom is Ellis Grey?

She smiles and nods. "When you told me you were going to be a surgeon, I knew I could never tell you anything about my life. You'd know my mother's name. But I'm leaving and it doesn't matter anymore." She gazes directly into the sun. "My dad was a biology professor at Boston University. That's why he taught me about animal tracks and tree leaves. That's why we watched the stars. My dad wanted me to be like him, interested in the science of the earth and animals and not just that of the human body. He wanted me to be well-rounded.

"When I was thirteen, I came home from school on a day like any other. I had a snack, I did my homework, and I gossiped on the phone with Izzie for more than an hour. My mom was working late and my dad was due back any minute, only he never came home. It wasn't until nine at night that I figured he might already be home." Her voice falters and I want to comfort her, only I'm too entranced to say anything. "I went to my parents' bedroom and knocked on the closed door. No one answered. When I went in, all the lights were on, but the bathroom door was shut. My dad's coat and shoes were on the floor. I knocked three times and called his name, but he didn't answer. When I opened the door to the bathroom, I saw my dad… lying on the floor… not moving," she whispers the last part, as if she can't say the words without them tasting of venom.

"I knew he was dead, but I ran to him anyway. He was pale and his lips were chapped. His face looked peaceful, though, as if he had merely gone to sleep. There was no blood, no evident pain, only a prescription bottle with only three little white pills in the bottom.

"It was like my mom had my dad's life on radar, because she rushed into the bathroom only a few minutes after me. She took one look at my dad's body and threw up in the sink. She didn't even try to revive him. She handed me the phone, told me to leave the room, and asked me to call an ambulance." Her eyes grow watery at the memory, but no tears fall. "I waited outside, on the swing my dad built, for ten minutes before the ambulance arrived. They asked me all kinds of questions, but I didn't answer a single one. I couldn't." Dual tears fall down her cheeks. "They walked past me with the body bag on the gurney. My mom followed and left me home alone while she rode with my father's body to the hospital. To the morgue."

Meredith wipes at her cheeks and fists her hands in front of her. "I never saw him again. We didn't have a funeral and my mom had him cremated."

"Meredith," I reach out for her and take her hand in mine. Her palm is clammy with sweat.

"My mom started drinking that night. I guess it took a while before she was a full-fledged alcoholic, but she drank and drank and drank, most the time until she passed out on the couch or at the kitchen table or in the shower. I didn't realize she had a problem until the bills stopped being paid and we didn't have electric for a week or the many times the water was shut off. She didn't even notice when I took a few of her credit cards to pay the bills.

"She 'retired' only three months after he died. We were living on her pension and his life insurance, but the house is too expensive and the bills are too frequent. I couldn't leave though. I was only fourteen and I had no idea where I'd go or how I'd survive.

"I stayed, but it was bad. My mom literally did nothing but drink, eat, and sleep—in that order. She barely even looked at me in the last year. When I entered high school, Cristina and Izzie realized what was going on, so most nights were spent with them. My mom never called once to see where I was. But high school wasn't easy and Izzie and Cristina began experimenting like any teenager would. They drank and smoked weed and I said I wouldn't. But then I met Alex and it all seemed like fun." She meets my eyes and I try to hide my premature suspicions about Alex. "Alex wasn't good for me. Or maybe I wasn't good for him—too damaged, too broken. Things got out of hand and I realized I was turning into my mother.

"On February 28 of this year, I came home from a Nearly Leap Year party."

I smirk.

Meredith sports a brief smile, "It was dumb. We used to just make up party names to make ourselves feel better about drinking on a Monday. I didn't actually feel too bad about drinking because being my mother's daughter meant I had to drink. Anyway, my mom was particularly coherent that night and she berated me for my actions. We yelled and screamed and one thing turned to another and she slapped me across the face." I squeeze her palm. "I left two days later and I haven't looked back."

I don't know what to say. There aren't words for the pain and suffering she's been through. And here I sit, on top of my parent-funded apartment, attending Colombia and drinking through all of New York City, and she's barely holding on.

When I continue to say nothing, Meredith cuts through my thoughts, "So that's why you don't want me around. I'm fucked up, Derek. My baggage could drown all of Manhattan and the last thing I want to do is pull someone else into my path of destruction."

"I want to help you."

"You already have."

I shake my head, "No, I want to continue to help you. I want to be here for you."

"And you will be. Everything you've given me—from the clothes to the supplies—it will help me survive. You might not be there in flesh, but you've done more for me than I could have ever asked for."

"It's not enough."

"Of course it is. It's all I need."

"Meredith," I sigh and release her hand. I can't think with her hand in mine. I don't know how to make her stay. "What I'm offering you here is a chance. I'm offering you shelter and food. I'm offering you a home and protection. I don't care about some fucking law that has nothing to do with me. I'd stand in a goddamn courtroom and tell everyone how your mother neglected you for years before you took your life in your hands and ran. I'd tell them how she abused her own child and I'd tell them how I was there for you. This law is bullshit and you know it."

Meredith calmly listens before speaking, "It is bullshit. You've shown me more kindness than anyone, but in the eyes of the law—"

"Fuck the law!" I snap.

"Derek, you won't make me stay. Nothing you say could make me put you through those consequences."

I turn my back to her and lean over the side of the vaulted, stairwell skylight. The window panes of dirty, but I can just barely make out my reflection. I look angry—pissed, upset, but I feel helpless. She's adamant about leaving, but I'm adamant about her staying. I can't see her go. I can't sit back and watch her walk out that door without knowing she's safe. For the rest of my life I'll think about her, and not because she's the runaway that got away, but because she's the girl that got away.

Maybe Mark is right. Maybe I'm blind to reality because I know it's wrong, but I've broken so many rules. I've tested so many waters and I've wound our futures together whether she likes it or not. Meredith might see me as he current protector—and maybe she's done the same song and dance in other cities along the east coast with different guys—but I refuse to merely be a stop along her liberation. I refuse to sit back and allow her to run away from me as well.

When I turn to face her, she looks older than before. Maybe it's the direct morning sunlight, or maybe it's the look of complete calm across her features, but either way, I've never seen her look so beautiful.

I right myself in my spot and I cross the distance between us. Meredith looks up into my eyes as I lean over her and as I inch my lips closer to hers, she doesn't pull away. I expect her to slap me for insinuating that she would even kiss me, but she doesn't. In fact, just as I feel her breath on my skin, I watch her eyes flutter shut. She wants me to kiss her, which makes the kiss much more desirable. I sweep my fingers through her hair and find the back of her neck. Her hair feels like strands of silk and the skin at the back of her neck is fire hot.

Before I can consider the consequences, I close the distance between us and press my mouth to hers. For a moment, we remain unmoving. Our lips fuse together and our noses touch just at the tip. I can feel her pulse beneath my palm and her body just barely brushing against mine. My heart begins to race, my mind begins to cloud, and I turn my face to the side and open my mouth against hers. Meredith kisses me back softly, quietly, as her lips move in a perfectly synchronized dance with mine. Her mouth opens and I can taste her breath on my tongue.

Meredith's hands press to my sides and slide around to my back. She takes a half-step closer, so there is not an inch between us, and drags her tongue along my bottom lip. I meet her tongue with mine and I feel a familiar pull in my stomach—like a flip—and I reach my other hand up to cup her cheek. Meredith's mouth feels warm against mine and her lips are yielding and soft. Her bottom lip—fuller than her top—slides between my lips as I lavish it with slow, wavering licks; Meredith sighs as I tug her lip slightly away from her, before pressing soft kisses against her mouth. I can hardly think, hardly breathe, but none it matters. It feels too good to be kissing her.

I pull away because I want to see her face again. Her wide, gray eyes glance up at me curiously and I lean forward once more to kiss her soft mouth. We keep our eyes open, staring at each other, as my tongue slides out once more to taste her mouth. I slide along her bottom teeth and under her tongue before pulling away once more. Her pulse is racing beneath my hand and I can feel my heart thundering in my chest.

"Stay with me," I whisper before I lean into her once more.

Meredith kisses me before I can even close the distance between us. Her mouth is rough against mine, but the feeling draws me nearer to her. I groan and run the hand on her neck down across her shoulder blades and along her spine. I feel the base of her shirt rising a few inches from the top of her jeans, and duck my hand underneath to feel her warm skin beneath my fingertips. Meredith curls her hand behind my neck and draws me down over her, helping her to not stand too far up on her toes. Her hair swings down her back and brushes the back of her shirt; I can feel each whisper of hair with each turn of her head.

I've never kissed anyone, nor been kissed by anyone, like this before.

As we mutually pull away, I kiss along her mouth, to her chin and up across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. I draw my arms around her waist, not touching her skin and press the side of my face against hers. "Stay with me," I say again.

Meredith sighs against my neck and trails her hands up my arms and around my shoulders. "I can't."

I pull away, refusing to fully release her, so I can look into her eyes. "Why not? Don't tell me you're protecting me."

"I can't see you go to jail for me, Derek. Especially not now."

"Why not now? Because we kissed?"

"I'm seventeen. This is wrong."

I drop my arms and step away from her. "Then why did you kiss me back?"

"Because I've wanted to kiss you since you found me on your doorstep days after you rescued me. Because you've been so patient and kind, especially that first night when I was terrified of everything. You've been there for me since the second you met me and all I can think about when I'm around you is kissing you," she admits. "So I decided to be selfish and let you kiss me, because we both wanted it. No, needed it. But now I'm leaving because everything is going to get messier if we let this continue."

"What if someone hurts you?"

She shrugs, "I don't know. What if someone hurts you?" She touches my sternum with her palm. "Your heart is racing."

"No one is hurting me right now except you Meredith Elise Grey."

Her eyes close slowly and she smiles, which seems highly inappropriate. "Will you say my name again?"

When she opens her eyes, I see freedom and unbridled happiness. I want to draw her to me again, but instead I give her what she wants, "Stay with me, Meredith Elise Grey."

"I'll come back the day I turn eighteen. I promise."

"A lot can happen in five months."

"Even more might happen if I stay here with you. You have to understand Derek, if anything happened to you because of me being here…" she shakes her head and drops her hand from my chest. "I'll be safe for five months. I'll be okay."

I can't let her go. "Meredith…"

She walks forward and presses her mouth to mine once more. This kiss is a goodbye. This kiss is a promise of tomorrows, but tomorrows too far on the horizon to see. This kiss is wrapped in sadness. I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her as deeply as I possibly can. I flood her mouth with my tongue and she enthusiastically kisses me back. Her body molds perfectly to mine and this kiss feels like a habit instead of an extension of our first kiss. But before I can fully imprint the feeling of her mouth on mine, she tears away from me.

"Stay here," she says between deep breaths. "Don't follow me."

"I won't let you leave here." I advance towards her.

Meredith raises her hands and takes another step back. "Please Derek, I'm begging you. Just give me five minutes."

How can I possibly keep her here? How can I make her stay? Maybe I'm not enough for her. Maybe someone else, along the way, was enough for her. Maybe she'll be safe. If only I knew she'd be safe, none of it would matter so much. If she had a safe house or somewhere to board, I wouldn't feel sick to my stomach. I could ask her to lie to me, make me feel better, but I'd always know the truth of the matter is: the best place in the world for her is in the bedroom next to mine.

"Tell me you'll be safe."

She nods, "I'll see you soon, Derek."

With one last lingering look, she heads down the stairs to my apartment, leaving me on the roof with the hot sun and the brief memory of her mouth on mine.