Author's Note: I told you the wait wouldn't be as long this time! It's been a productive weekend, thanks to the voluntary continuation of Writing Boot Camp (the brainchild of GreysAddict522). I hope you all enjoyed the return of our show last night. I, for one, was thrilled to see the return of Strong Meredith.
If you're in the mood for fiction, take some time to swing back over to my profile page and click the link for my post-4.11 fic entitled "Dignity." (shameless plug) As always, thanks for the continued love in feedback form! Y'all are amazing. :-)
SO HARD
When she'd first walked through the door, she hadn't quite known what to expect. The last time she'd seen drunk Thatcher, he had slapped her for killing his wife. And, with the yelling she'd heard through the door, she had been justifiably afraid that he might slap her again.
He hadn't.
To her immense surprise, Thatcher had actually been a fairly pleasant drunk. He had talked too loudly and laughed too loudly and frequently lost control of his limbs, but he hadn't been mean.
He had, however, been sick.
She had expected it to be painful—cleaning up his vomit and coaxing his floppy limbs into clean clothes—but it had been surprisingly easy. Like taking care of a patient. Getting him up the stairs had been a unique kind of challenge, but they had done it. They'd gotten him upstairs and into bed and had taken turns forcing half a gallon of water into him to counteract any dehydration. She'd expected him to fight them, but even in—or, perhaps, because of—his state of semi-consciousness, he'd been surprisingly agreeable.
She knew from the bags under Lexie's eyes and the gentle trembling of her hands and the way she watched Thatcher with constant trepidation, though, that Thatcher wasn't always so kind.
Meredith gave her damp washcloth a delicate squeeze and dabbed once more at Thatcher's forehead as his breath relaxed into deep, even puffs of air.
Across the bed, Lexie breathed an audible sigh of relief. "He's asleep," she all but whispered, her voice soft and awestruck.
"He is," Meredith agreed quietly.
Green orbs met brown in a wave of sudden apprehension. For a moment, the girls stood in silence, staring curiously at each other over Thatcher's unconscious body.
Meredith swallowed loudly. Lexie's teeth gripped her lower lip.
At long last, the younger Grey cleared her throat, effectively shattering the fragile silence.
"So, um…" Her eyebrows rose hopefully. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"Yeah." Meredith tilted her head curiously to the side and mustered a small, appreciative smile. "That would be nice."
She followed Lexie downstairs, staring in wonder at everything from the worn Persian runner on the steps to the plethora of pictures lining the stairwell. The banister had grooves shaped like fingers. The third step from the bottom creaked when Lexie's foot fell there. The light fixture in the foyer flickered every few seconds. There was a crack in the last step that Lexie knew to avoid, but Meredith tripped.
As soon as they reached the kitchen, Lexie worked quickly, almost blindly—measuring the water, pouring the grinds, and adjusting the machine's settings for a new pot. Her quiet diligence reminded Meredith of Susan.
Lexie slammed the canister shut, and the coffee machine gurgled to life. When she whirled around, Meredith expected to see the calm, collected countenance of her stepmother.
She was startled when her eyes met a tentative smile and trembling fingers. "So, um…"
Meredith returned the tentative smile. "So," she echoed.
They fidgeted collectively in uncomfortable silence as the first drop of coffee landed with a plink at the bottom of the pot.
Meredith cleared her throat and began an intense study of the Corian countertop. "So," she prompted wryly. "So you can draw. With an Etch-A-Sketch."
"Yeah." Lexie scrubbed a palm across her face in mortification. "Oh, God," she murmured, wrinkling her nose. "That was so embarrassing. SO embarrassing. I just…I knew you hated me, and I wanted you to stop hating me, and everything you said to that father made so much sense, so…I came up with five things. Five stupid, stupid things, and…"
Lexie's hesitant soprano became a dull murmur as Meredith began to really study the other Grey. She absorbed everything, from the way Lexie's lower lip trembled to the way she was wringing her hands—fervently, emphatically, just in front of her stomach. She watched the way Lexie jerked forward with certain syllables, the way her eyes widened between damp lashes and darted almost undetectably to the floor. And, as Meredith watched her not-sister, she began to wonder idly if this—this numbing combination of guilt, humility, and incredulity—was what Derek had experienced in the scrub room only a year prior.
Pick me. Choose me. Love me.
Lexie wasn't speaking those exact words, but they rang out clearly nonetheless, and Meredith shuddered gently with the force of their impact.
"I don't hate you."
Lexie's rambling ceased immediately as her brow creased in confusion. "What?"
Meredith inhaled sharply and expelled a heavy sigh as her fingers stroked the underside of the countertop. "I don't hate you," she repeated softly, allowing the corners of her mouth to curl ever so slightly in a reassuring smile. Her eyes strayed once more to the unfamiliar Corian, and she chuckled bitterly when she realized that this was the first time she'd been inside her father's house. "If I hated you, I wouldn't be here."
The coffee machine beeped loudly, interrupting the introspective moment, and Lexie turned to retrieve and fill two mismatched ceramic mugs. She grabbed a spoon and bowl from the counter and began dumping sugar liberally into her Harvard cup before turning expectantly to Meredith.
"Sugar?"
"No thanks." Meredith wrinkled her nose. "Black is good."
Lexie nodded slowly and placed a tacky, cowprint mug on the counter in front of Meredith, who blew softly on the surface for a few moments before chancing a sip.
"Can I ask you a question?" Lexie blurted.
Meredith glanced up and gave an apprehensive nod.
"Why are you here?"
The words danced precariously along the walls, and Lexie winced at their echo.
"I mean…I didn't mean it like that. It just…seems weird. You showing up, I mean. Not bad weird, though. I'm glad you did. But…why?" Her features contorted in desperation. "Is it because Alex asked you to come? Because if it is, and you're just doing this out of pity or some weird sense of obligation or…or if he guilt-tripped you…"
Meredith decided against telling Lexie that "guilt-tripped" might be too gentle a term for Alex's blatant, unapologetic attempts at coercion. Instead, she took another cautious sip of coffee. "My mother had Alzheimer's," she interrupted hastily.
The rambling ceased as Lexie's eyebrows shot up in confusion. "Ellis Grey had Alzheimer's?"
"Yup."
"I'm so sorry," Lexie murmured. "I…I never heard anything."
"No, you wouldn't have," Meredith admitted with a hollow, bitter chuckle. "She didn't want anyone to know." She slid onto one of the available barstools and stretched her forearms onto the counter, warming her hands against the sides of the mug. "She didn't even want me to know. But, at the end of the day, I was the only one she trusted, so…she called me, and I flew home."
Lexie inhaled sharply, and Meredith tossed her a smirk.
"For years, I was the only one that knew," she confessed. "I went to med school during the day and took care of her at night. I didn't even put her in a home until I started my internship at Seattle Grace."
Lexie heaved a loud sigh and leaned forward as her features contorted in sympathy. "That must've been so hard," she murmured in admiration.
Meredith met her sister's gaze meaningfully. "No harder than what you've been doing," she countered pointedly.
Lexie was immediately taken aback. "It's not the same," she insisted, shaking her head ever so slightly. "I mean, he drinks, sure, but…but he knows who I am."
"Sure he does," Meredith agreed wryly. "On good days."
Lexie smiled weakly. "It's not like that," she murmured. "It's just…" Temporary. Somewhere under there, he's still my father. He's going to get better. He's just going through a hard time right now. He's a better man than this. You'll see.
The night before, she'd fed Alex the same lines with admirable conviction. Now, though, staring into the knowing eyes of her older sister, her protests sounded weak and hollow and empty.
Across the island, Meredith arched a skeptical eyebrow. "You know, it's okay to admit that this…whatever…is hard on you."
Lexie swallowed uncomfortably. "He lost his wife,"
Meredith dipped her chin pointedly, but when she spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically soft. "You lost your mom."
Lexie's teeth found her lower lip again as she set down her mug and blinked rapidly at the ceiling.
"Lexie," Meredith entreated gently, "no one expects…" She trailed off and cleared her throat. "You don't have to be invincible," she said instead.
Lexie's eyes fluttered to a close as she inhaled shakily. A single tear slid down her cheek, but she brushed it away with a bitter laugh and shook her head ever so slightly.
After another deep breath, she opened her eyes and leveled Meredith with an ironic smile. "I was mad at you," she confessed with a hollow chuckle. "That day, when you said that your father left when you were five, that you never saw him again…I was actually mad at you. I almost called you a liar." She trailed off and gave her head another incredulous shake. "I just…I really, really wanted you to be lying. But you weren't."
"No," Meredith agreed, her voice little more than a whisper. Lexie nodded thoughtfully and, for a moment, conversation ceased.
Both Grey sisters closed their eyes and listened to little things. The tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway. The strained call of cicadas beneath the bay window. The roar of an engine in the distance.
"We do have the same dad," Lexie concluded finally. Her voice trembled beneath the weight of unshed tears, but her hands were steady.
Meredith knew that it was her turn, her chance to say something big and comforting and sisterly, but the words wouldn't come.
"Meredith?"
Meredith glanced up expectantly, and Lexie sighed.
"Do you…well…" She trailed off and ran a nervous hand through her hair in a motion that reminded Meredith eerily of Derek. "Do you ever miss your mother?" she blurted finally.
To say the question surprised her would've been an understatement. Anyone who knew Ellis Grey knew the woman hadn't been a mother worth missing. But then her thoughts drifted to that one moment in the hallway where her mother's arms had been wrapped tightly around her.
"You are anything but ordinary, Meredith."
Her chest tightened painfully as tears pricked the backs of her eyes.
"Do you ever miss your mother?"
"Yeah," she breathed amazedly. "All the time."
Lexie heaved a shaky sigh. "Me too."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The gentle click of a door in a lock jolted Meredith awake. Moments later, she heard the telltale thud of nylon against hardwood, and her pulse began to race as she scanned the unfamiliar living room with wide eyes. Her gaze had just come to rest on Lexie's sleeping form when heavy footsteps began to echo along the halls.
"Hey."
Meredith twitched violently, eliciting a rough chuckle from the unexpected visitor.
"Jumpy much?"
Her soft features twisted into a disgruntled frown as she met Alex's impish smirk. "Shut up," she grumbled groggily. "What time is it?"
"Around two-thirty."
"Oh." Meredith's gaze drifted from her unconscious sister to the empty coffee mugs. "We must've fallen asleep," she concluded dumbly.
"You think?" Alex rolled his eyes and padded over to the armchair Lexie had claimed. "She's out like a light, huh?"
"Mm." Meredith's muscles contracted as she stretched her arms overhead. Her brow furrowed as she watched Alex crouch down to Lexie's eye level. "How'd you get in?" she demanded.
"Spare key," he replied easily, tucking a stray lock of straight brown hair behind Lexie's ear.
Meredith's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "She gave you a spare key?"
The corners of his mouth curled sheepishly as he glanced over his shoulder. "Not exactly," he admitted. "I found one taped to the underside of the mailbox."
Meredith arched an eyebrow skeptically. "That's…creepy and stalker-ish."
"Yeah, well…" Alex shrugged nonchalantly and stretched back to full height. "It's better than waking everybody up," he concluded gruffly. "Did you have fun with Thatcher?"
"Actually," Meredith admitted, "he wasn't that bad. I mean, he's loud, and he's heavy, and he vomits, but…all in all, it could've been worse."
"And Lexie?"
"What about her?" Meredith muttered petulantly. "She wasn't drunk."
Alex dipped his chin pointedly, and Meredith expelled a belligerent sigh.
"You were right," she admitted quietly. "Sometimes, you need family."
His eyebrows rose in appreciation as he studied her, and a small smile graced his rugged features. "Yeah," he murmured in agreement. "Sometimes, you do."
Meredith pushed herself into a standing position and dusted her jeans lightly with her fingers. "Are you staying?" she asked quietly.
Alex stood for a moment and watched as Lexie's chest rose and fell evenly. His brow smoothed, and he sucked in a deep breath.
"Nah," he mumbled finally. "I should take her up to bed, though." The left corner of his mouth curled affectionately upwards. "I mean, look at her. That can't be comfortable."
Meredith suppressed a smile as he knelt down and gently lifted her sister out of the armchair. "I'll see you at home, then?"
"Yeah," he agreed without looking up.
She was halfway to the front door when his voice stopped her.
"Hey, Mere?"
"Yeah?"
He tossed her a small, tightlipped smile. "Thanks for doing this."
Her lips curled in an ironic smirk. "I'm not doing it for you," she told him pointedly.
Alex's smile broadened. "I know."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The box springs creaked beneath her weight when Meredith finally slid into bed. She felt uplifted but exhausted, and she was mere seconds from sleep when her head hit the pillow.
"Where have you been?"
Meredith bit back a loud groan at the sound of Cristina's voice. "Out," she mumbled groggily.
"Meredith…"
"Fine," Meredith snapped, opening one eye to glare at the woman she called her person. "I was helping Lexie take care of Thatcher."
"You were helping Lexie…" Cristina trailed off and sat up, leveling Meredith with an incredulous stare. "Why? I thought we were hating the idea of her."
"We were."
"And now we're not?" Cristina demanded.
"No." Meredith heaved a sigh. So much for sleep. "We kind of realized that her life isn't quite so bright-and-shiny anymore."
"So?"
She rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "So the Dark and Twisty club has enough members already."
"Whatever," Cristina grumbled. "Isn't misery supposed to love company?"
Meredith snorted. "That would certainly explain why you're keeping me awake at three-thirty in the morning." She heaved another sigh and flopped onto her side. "Look, Cristina, she's me, okay? She's me five years ago when I first figured out my mother was sick, and I can't just sit here and watch her flail, or whatever, until she becomes me now."
Cristina was silent for a moment. "What does Derek think?" she asked finally.
"I don't know," Meredith admitted with a sigh of resignation.
"You haven't told him."
It wasn't a question.
"I haven't told him," Meredith confirmed.
"Are you going to tell him?"
Her query was met with a suffocating wall of silence.
Cristina rolled her eyes. "Let me get this straight. You're helping the sister you don't know take care of the father you hate, and you're having sex, mockery, and conversation exclusively with McDreamy, but you haven't told him about Thatcher."
"Yup."
Cristina narrowed her eyes doubtfully in her friend's direction. "You know that's entirely fucked up, right?"
"I don't see how," Meredith mumbled defiantly. "Thatcher is none of Derek's business."
Cristina's lip curled in disgust. "Oh, that is so not what this is about. Look, I'm not an expert on relationships or anything, but…"
"We're not in a relationship," Meredith interrupted pointedly.
Cristina arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh, you are so in a relationship. Exclusivity? Conversation? You're, like, three small words away from an after-school sitcom."
"Freaks and Geeks?" Meredith offered hopefully.
Cristina snorted. "Try Boy Meets World."
"Cristina…" Meredith rolled her eyes in defeat and sat up so she could meet her person's disapproving gaze. "Look, this is something I have to do for me, okay? I have to figure out how to do the family thing."
Cristina's surly features softened ever so slightly as she considered her friend. "I get that," she murmured. "I do. But…you know Shepherd's going to want to help you."
Meredith closed her eyes for a moment, and she was back in the trailer, listening to the steady patter of rain on the steel roof and suffocating in silence as Derek stared at the ceiling. She swallowed, and she could feel the rough wool of his sweater against her cheek as his chest vibrated against her.
"He said he wanted something simple," she said finally.
Cristina exhaled loudly. "When?"
"Last night. On the date."
The room echoed with Cristina's sharp intake of breath, and Meredith's chest tightened painfully in anticipation.
"Cristina…" she pleaded softly. "Look, we went on a date last night. Today, we were flirting in the hallway. He was wiggling his eyebrows and smirking infuriatingly and leaning in for whiffs of lavender, and…it was nice, okay? It was fun. Carefree." Like it used to be in the beginning, before his wife showed up. "Last night, he was telling me things—real, personal things—and today, he was flirting in the hallway."
Cristina's voice was low and taut when she responded. "What's your point?"
Meredith heaved a sigh and closed her eyes against the tears that were suddenly threatening to spill over. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, but full of resolve.
"He's happy, Cristina. He's happy, and I'm happy, and…it's enough," she concluded decisively. "What we have right now is enough."
Cristina was silent for a moment as she listened to Meredith's slow, even breathing. She was about to argue, about to cash in the reality check for which she was infamous, but then she remembered the way Derek's eyes had glistened with tears of relief in the neon light of the exam room, and she heard her voice, uncharacteristically soft against the silence.
"Okay."