A/N: I'll write a nice short chapter for Fluffy Friday, I said. So it shouldn't surprise you that this is the longest chapter yet. Parts of it are some of the first bits I wrote for this story and I have been looking forward to sharing them. Also, even though I wore no coat the other day, now it's snowing. Well, snow-rain. So I guess it's still sort of Christmas. Everyone please stay warm and dry and happy Fluffy Friday!


Unto Certain Shepherds
Chapter 11: Christmas Eve, Part II

...


"Shh…"

The sound wakes him up, just barely – his eyes still want to stay closed. Is it time to get up and wrap presents for the kids?

"Shh, they're sleeping," the voice says again, in a hushed whisper.

This time, his eyes manage to open. The soft voice he heard isn't Meredith at all, warning him to be quiet so they don't wake the children on their surreptitious trip downstairs to wrap gifts.

Meredith is fast asleep, curled on her side next to him, her hair fanned out on the pillow, sounds that could charitably be called deep breathing traveling from her parted lips.

It's later than he thought, grey winter sunlight piercing the windows and lighting up the room enough that he can see that the voice is, in fact, coming from across the room.

Where Zola is standing with her back to him, leaning into the pack 'n' play. Bailey is standing, his sad little face turned up to his sister. Derek watches as Zola extends a hand to pat her brother's hair. "It's okay, Bailey," she whispers, "I'm awake too. But Mommy and Daddy are sleeping."

"Out," Bailey pleads, holding up his arms to be lifted up.

Derek sees Zola take a step back from the pack 'n' play, surveying its contours, and decides to intervene before the sweet sibling moment turns into one or both of them getting injured.

"Actually, Daddy's awake," he says, softly enough not to startle them.

Zola spins around, beaming.

"Shh." He puts a finger to his lips. "Mommy is still sleeping."

He pads across the floor to rescue his son, who is smiling now but still holding both arms up desperately as if hoping a helicopter will swoop in to rescue him from his comfortably padded prison.

Scooping Bailey out of the pack 'n' play, he extends a hand to Zola and they tiptoe together out of the room.

"Have you two been awake a long time?" Derek asks Zola once the bedroom door is closed.

She nods solemnly, her braids swinging. "I told Bailey a story."

"You did?" He strokes her soft cheek. "That was nice of you. Bailey, you have a pretty great big sister, don't you?"

"Yeah," Bailey says contentedly, resting his head on his father's shoulder. Then he perks up. "Cookie," he suggests.

Derek smiles. "Can I interest you in a compromise?"

They're not the first ones up.

Being the first ones up in a packed Shepherd house on Christmas Eve is mathematically impossible – sure, someone has to be the first one up, in theory, but it's never happened in all of the Christmases Derek has spent here.

So he's not surprised at the noise coming from the big, warm Shepherd kitchen, with its familiar gingham curtains and Christmas decorations and oversized scarred wood table.

"Good morning," Derek says as they approach, a sleepy-again Bailey snuggled against his shoulder and Zola holding his hand.

"Good morning!" His nephew Christopher is frowning in front of a mixing bowl, but he turns to greet them. The kitchen smells pleasantly of coffee and pine needles. Shannon and Samantha, Derek's practically-twin nieces – really cousins, but born so close in time that they used to pretend to be twins – are hunting in the cabinets for ingredients.

They all greet Zola with enthusiasm, Derek pleased to see that she welcomes their attention. Whatever shyness he expected when they first arrived seems to have melted away completely, and Zola appears perfectly comfortable with her doting cousins.

"Are you the only ones up?" Derek asks.

"Paige is outside shoveling the walk with Dad and Uncle Randy," Christopher explains. "She decided it was sexist for me to shovel, so I should make breakfast."

"Oh." Derek considers this, amused that Liz's youngest – he remembers her as petite and bossy – doesn't seem to have changed much in the intervening decade.

Christopher shrugs amiably. "It's fine with me. Plus, I'm a better cook."

Nor has Christopher, apparently – easygoing, agreeable, and happy to please his sisters.

"Can I help?" Zola asks eagerly.

"Sure." Chris smiles at her. "Do you like to crack eggs?"

"I love to crack eggs," Zola tells him, amusing Derek with her passionate tone.

"What about this guy?" Shannon is smiling at Bailey.

"This guy isn't quite awake yet," Derek says, stroking his son's soft hair. "But when he is quite awake, I think he'd love to help out too." He glances out the kitchen windows, where he can now see the tips of brightly colored hats and the occasional silvery streak of a shovel – his niece and brothers-in-law, digging out cars and clearing the walk.

He should give them a hand.

He mentions this, but Bailey vociferously protests at the thought of letting go of his father, so he gives up and instead sits at the kitchen table. He feels both lazy and extremely content as he sips coffee with his sleepy son in his lap, watching his daughter happily cooking with her cousins.

"Is Aunt Meredith still sleeping?" Samantha asks, intervening just in time – with impressive speed – to keep Zola from whisking the bowl of eggs directly off the counter.

Derek nods, but he's caught on the words.

Aunt Meredith.

His niece says them easily, without particular weight or intensity. The name sounds perfectly natural coming from her.

It sounds nice.

It sounds … perfect.

"Want to put chocolate chips in the pancakes?" Shannon asks Zola, whose response is predictably enthusiastic.

"Oh – is that okay?" Shannon directs her question to Derek, looking a little guilty.

Zola clasps her little hands together prayerfully. "Please, Daddy."

"Sure." Derek smiles at his daughter's reaction. "It's Christmas Eve, after all."

Meredith wakes up alone.

This was, for many years, her preferred default.

When she woke up with someone, she would encourage them to make a hasty exit.

But that was before. Now, in her current life, in the decade that's changed her life beyond her wildest expectations or predictions … it's different.

Now an ordinary waking up usually involves at least one small foot kicking her, rumpled covers as a result of her middle-of-the-night comforter battles with her husband, and occasionally one or more children directly on top of her as if she herself is their bed.

But not this morning. This morning, she's the only one in Derek's narrow childhood bed, morning light illuminating the bits of memories on the shelves and walls: here a baseball trophy, there a school picture.

The pack 'n' play is empty, Zola's little cot is empty, and her husband's warm body is decisively missing from the bed.

She checks the time – and immediately feels guilty. Derek must have let her sleep on purpose, taken the kids downstairs. But he must be tired too – they spent hours last night preparing the children's gifts. Derek explained to her that Christmas Eve in the Shepherd house is so packed that last night was the best time for prep.

Tonight – Christmas Eve night – will involve more traditions, and more work … but one step at a time.

And her first step is out of bed, stretching in the unusual amount of space before she goes downstairs to join her family.

"… and then she puts the flag on the moon, and gets moon rocks for Spud – that's her puppy – before she goes back."

Zola beams, her tone one of finality, and takes another bite of chocolate-chip pancake.

Her cousins make appreciative noises.

"So that's the plot of Amaya the Astronaut?" Shannon confirms.

Zola nods. "It's so good. You need to watch it."

"I don't know how we missed it," Samantha says with a grin. "Will you watch it with us?"

"Sure!"

Derek smiles at his nieces – who now include Paige, returned from her shoveling expedition with red cheeks and wild hair, and Kristen, who drifted into the kitchen looking half asleep until she downed an amount of coffee Derek is fairly certain would not thrill Kathleen.

Randall is awake too, and Mason – who's busy doing something in the other room.

Even Bailey is awake now. He perked up when the first scent of pancakes wafted toward the table, and by the time breakfast – well, the first shift of breakfast – was served, he was sitting happily in his own seat clutching his little blue and white plastic fork like a lifeline with his big blue eyes trained determinedly on the platter of chocolate chip pancakes.

"Grandma, I think you would really like the movie too," Zola says brightly.

… and, of course, his mother, who doesn't like to miss out on cozy Christmas mornings, not even when she was awake late the night before.

"You know what, sweetheart, I think you're right." Carolyn smiles fondly at Zola. "We'll put it on the list for tonight."

"Good morning…"

Derek looks up at the familiar voice. His wife is standing in the kitchen entryway smiling at the gathered Shepherds, her hair still a little wild from sleep. He's pleased to see she's wearing her Christmas pajamas like the rest of the family.

"Mommy!" Bailey bounces in his seat, thrilled with the impending maternal reunion.

"Mommy, we made pancakes!" Zola announces. "Me and my cousins! With chocolate chips!"

"Wow," Meredith says, sounding impressed. "That's great, Zozo." She kisses her daughter's cheek, then turns to the table of teenagers. "Can you come back to Seattle with us? Zola's going to miss you."

Then she rescues a wriggling Bailey from his seat for hugs, settling in a chair with her son on her lap and kissing the top of his blond head.

Derek leans in close. "Where's my kiss?" he asks quietly.

She smiles and drops a quick kiss on his lips.

"Ah." He smiles, satisfied. "Now it's a good morning."

Breakfast is a noisy, tasty, chatty affair, growing more so as more Shepherds join. The kitchen table is large, but the Shepherd family is larger. They take turns, alternating with the high stools, or – in the case of Zola and Bailey – alternating laps.

The feeling in the air is festive and wintry: his mother's warm kitchen has the same glow, the same scent, Derek remembers from the Christmases of his childhood. As he watches his children fit seamlessly into the web of Shepherd grandchildren, he's deeply grateful that he made this trip – the last opportunity for his children to see the house that nurtured him as a boy.

And he's well aware who's responsible, too.

"What was that for?" Meredith asks, smiling at him, when he leans in and kisses her cheek.

"Oh, just a little Christmas magic."

Zola, who is perched on her mother's lap, smiles at his words.

When the dishes are cleared and table wiped down, the floor swept and the food put away – somehow, it seems to take longer with more people to help but it's also more fun, and involves more Christmas carols – Derek's mother claps her hands.

"It's time," she says when she has everyone's attention, and there's a general consensus of nodding and yeses among the gathered family members.

Meredith is curious, but nods along. Carolyn is standing in front of the stove, the center of a large fan of family members who are standing or perched on chairs or stools, all focused on her. It has the air of an announcement, or some formality that is a mystery to Meredith, so she waits for it to unfold.

"Grandma," says one of the dark-haired nieces – Samantha, Meredith is almost certain, though many of the teenaged girls look alike – "Meredith's never done Secret Shepherd before."

"You're right, Sam," Carolyn says thoughtfully. A murmur rises through the crowd again, and then suddenly it's deafening – cheerfully deafening – as multiple Shepherds try at once to explain to her what's going on. With so many voices, she can only pick up bits and pieces.

-the person you pick, so-

-and if they can't, then you have to-

-that's how you make it harder-

-and for the little ones-

-tradition-

"Children!" Carolyn's voice is loud enough to echo over everyone elses.

Meredith is impressed.

"One at a time, please," her mother-in-law says patiently.

"But we never talk one at a time." Jackson looks genuinely confused.

Everyone laughs at this.

"Okay, Meredith, here's how it works." Nancy takes over, and no one looks particularly surprised that she does. "Secret Shepherd is something we've been doing for years. It's a tradition on Christmas Eve. You know Secret Santa?"

Meredith nods.

"So, it's like that – except different. Everyone picks a name."

"Grownups pick grownups, and kids pick kids," Paige adds.

"Thank you, Paige." Nancy looks amused, then turns back to Meredith. "She's right. There are two different pots, adults and children."

"And Grandma is the keeper of the keys!" Kristen delivers this information with a smile.

"That's right," Carolyn says, smiling back at her granddaughter.

"Mom doesn't pick anyone," Nancy explains. "We all pick someone, and then the way the game works is that all the way up until Christmas Day, you do nice things for the person you picked."

"Nice things?"

"Right. And on Christmas Day, you have to try to guess who picked you."

It sounds lovely, Meredith has to admit, but also confusing.

"You're wondering why it's not obvious who picked you in Secret Shepherd, because they're the person doing nice things for you?" Nancy prompts.

Meredith nods, feeling a little silly – this game is a tradition, so obviously she must be missing something.

"That's the fun of the game," Liz says. "To keep people from guessing you, you do nice things for other people too. Right, kids?"

They nod. "Like if I pick Kristen," Paige offers, "I would do nice stuff for her, but I'd also do it for enough of the others that Kristen wouldn't know it's me."

"I'd know it's you," Kristen says darkly, and some of the family members laugh.

"So there are a lot of nice things happening," Kathleen adds.

"Like if you know the other person's favorite carol, you could play it," Paige suggests.

"Or you could give them the first cookies to frost when they've cooled down."

"Or help them with their chores."

"Or pick their favorite story to read."

"Or…"

Meredith smiles as Derek's nieces and nephews spout brief suggestions, one after the other like a pot of popping corn.

"…and at the end everyone has to guess who their Secret Shepherd was, and Grandma tells you if you're right."

Meredith nods, following along. "So no one picks your grandma?" she asks, trying to make sure she understands.

"No, she's the keeper of the keys," Kristen explains. "Plus, we do nice things for Grandma anyway 'cause she's the best."

Carolyn smiles at this. "We've been playing since my children were small," she tells Meredith.

Meredith is touched at the idea of the game. Somehow, the Shepherds have managed to create festive, competitive fun that not only costs nothing at all but results in people going out of their way to be nice to each other.

She knows Derek's family's finances, when the children were young, were uncertain at times, dependent on the family business. What a clever way for his parents to make sure no one was left out of Christmas cheer.

"I think it's brilliant," she says when she realizes the rest of the family is waiting for her response.

Controlled chaos descends, with various nieces and nephews making lists of names, and finding exactly the right elf hats from which the family members will pluck names. There's squabbling – mostly good-natured – as the preparations are made.

"Usually the little kids team up," Samantha says to Meredith at one point, green marker in one hand.

"Me and Bailey can be a team!" Zola offers brightly, catching on immediately.

"Perfect."

The names are almost ready when Paige pipes up. "But Grandma, we're not all here yet. What about Cassie and Doug?"

"You can draw for them," Liz suggests. Meredith knows her two oldest are coming later, and files the names away for memory.

"Or maybe they're coming soon," Carolyn suggests, her eyes twinkling, just as a knock on the door interrupts the preparations.

"How do you do that?" Shannon looks both impressed and exasperated.

"I think she has spy equipment on the driveway," Jackson suggests.

"I'm just Grandma," Carolyn says mildly. "I don't need spy equipment."

And then the arrival of two more people – no, four – no, five, if you count the impending first Shepherd great-grandchild.

Derek hasn't seen Cassie or Doug in years, and Liz's two patient and well-behaved eldest have turned into fully fledged adults. They've both brought partners – Cassie, her new husband Ben, whom she introduces happily to Derek and Meredith.

(Derek grins at Meredith, noting with just his expression that she's not the newest Shepherd spouse anymore.)

And Doug has his girlfriend Tasha as well.

"We were supposed to go to Tasha's parents this year," Doug explains to Derek. "But when we found out Grandma was selling the house, we couldn't miss the last Christmas here."

"It's so sweet of you." Carolyn beams at both of them. "Tasha, I hope your parents weren't too upset."

"Not at all."

The chatting and greeting and Shepherdness continue until Nancy puts two fingers in her mouth and lets loose an impressive whistle.

"Ugh." Kathleen covers her ears. "I can't believe you can still do that."

"You're just jealous you can't," Nancy says primly. "Anyway!" She claps her hands. "Time to draw."

They take turns drawing names.

Derek draws first among the adults. Nancy, it says. He smiles to himself; Nancy has been deeply competitive her whole life, and he has plans to make sure she won't guess it's him.

Meredith draws next, folding her paper protectively when Derek tries to sneak a glance. "It's a secret," she reminds him.

Nancy laughs. "Derek, she's already better at the game than you are."

Zola, apparently inspired by her mother, tucks her paper away from both parents once the children have drawn names. "I'm not telling," she informs them. "I can read it myself and I'll tell Bailey. Right, Bailey?"

"Right," he says automatically, but he seems more interested in playing with the empty elf hats.

"I'm glad we waited until everyone was here," Nancy says when the papers have been cleared away and the children have scampered off – okay, fine, most of them are teenagers or more now, but being at Grandma's seems to encourage them to scamper anyway.

Carolyn looks pensive, and Derek glances at his sister before he speaks.

"Mom?"

"It's fine, dear." She smiles. "I'm thrilled that you came and it's a joy to see your children with their cousins. I couldn't be happier."

"Unless everyone was here," Kathleen says gently.

His mother nods.

"Have you heard from her?"

"I did." Carolyn studies her hands. "She called, and she's doing well, it seems."

The siblings exchange glances.

"She seemed healthy," Carolyn continues, euphemistically, "and she sent her love to everyone."

"That's good, then," Liz says.

"Derek saw her a few years ago," Nancy points out.

"I know." Carolyn pats his hand. "I was so glad you did." She pauses. "I wasn't glad about why, mind you, but I was glad you saw each other."

Derek nods. The less said about his mother's reaction to his being shot, the better.

"The point is, most of us are here," Nancy says. "And we can call Amy tomorrow maybe, when we're all together …"

Kathleen winces at the term all again.

But Carolyn doesn't seem to mind. "That's a lovely idea, dear." She smiles at Nancy, then brushes her hands off on her housecoat and seems to straighten up a little taller. "Now! Let's not dilly-dally any longer. There's plenty to do…"

… there certainly is. The Shepherd house is a flurry of activity, both indoors (where preparations are happening for Christmas cookies, batches of secret wrapping is happening behind closed doors, and relatives are swapping places frequently to catch up with each other) and outdoors (where a small group heads out every few hours to make sure there's no danger to cars or house from the piles of wet snow, and another group consisting of Zola, Joseph, Michael, and Paige work on an igloo that appears to require about 30 percent planning, 20 percent brute strength, and 50 percent hysterical laughter).

The house is filled with voices raised in both talk and song – at any given moment, there is a Christmas carol on the stereo and a different one being sung with gusto by one or more of the nieces and nephews.

At one point Derek's niece Blake heads out again for the library with her father and a couple of Derek's nephews.

"It's very snowy out there," Carolyn says warily. "Mason, I know what a good driver you are, and you have a good car, but …"

"We'll be careful," Mason promises his mother-in-law.

"It can't wait until after Christmas?"

"No," Mason says quickly.

"I kind of need it now, Grandma," Blake says apologetically. "When we went to the library yesterday, and they didn't have it, they said it would be in today."

"I didn't realize the library was open on Christmas Eve."

"It's at the University, so they keep student hours."

"Oh. Well, all right, dear, if that's what you need to do." Carolyn kisses her granddaughter's cheek. "I don't want you working too hard on the holiday."

"I won't," Blake says.

"And Mason, you'll be careful?"

"I promise," he assures her, "and I have three backup drivers just in case."

Christopher flexes his muscles as further proof of this, which amuses the rest of the gathered Shepherds, and the door closes behind them in a gust of cold wind.

"Library on Christmas Eve," his mother shakes her head. "Well, Blake always did like to study. She's on full scholarship at college, you know."

"I'm not surprised." Derek has fond memories of a small Blake following him around the Shepherd house asking for spelling words. Gimme another, Uncle Derek! A harder one, that one was easy!

With four fewer people, the Shepherd house is …

…still very full.

And loud.

And merry.

In a rare moment of quiet – Zola baking cookies in the kitchen with some of her cousins, Bailey presumably buried shoulder deep in railroad tracks in the playroom with others – Derek catches Meredith and pulls her against him. "Tell me who you drew in Secret Shepherd," he says into her hair.

"Never. And don't you dare threaten me with – Derek," she's laughing against him. "There are six hundred people in this house right now, so behave."

He frowns, holding her away from him. "I thought we had no secrets."

Now she's actually laughing. "You are so – did you do this when you were a kid? To your sisters?"

"Of course I did," he says.

"And did they fall for it? The eyes – don't give me the eyes," she warns him.

But it's too late.

Meredith squeezes her own eyes shut. "You have no more power," she informs him, and then shrieks when he takes advantage of her closed eyes to surprise her.

"Mommy?"

Meredith turns, still in Derek's arms, to see Zola approaching, holding something out.

"Look what Shannon made for me," she says, showing them a sugar cookie in the shape of a Z.

"Z for Zola," she says happily, "and I get to decorate it."

"That was nice of her," Meredith says, then pauses, turning to Derek.

"She's maybe my Secret Shepherd," Zola says, sounding thoughtful, "but maybe not 'cause it could be trick and also Kristen let me do the food coloring for the frosting, so maybe it's Kristen."

"Maybe," Derek says neutrally.

"Also Michael and Joseph were super nice when we were building the igloo and Michael picked me up so I could reach the top."

Meredith is impressed both by Zola's perfect recitation of her cousins' names and her strategic consideration of the Secret Shepherd mystery.

"Anyway, I love my Z. I'm gonna go decorate it." Then Zola pauses, looking at Derek. "Shannon said Santa's coming tonight," she says, "after we're in bed."

Derek nods. "That's right, Zozo."

Zola smiles, looking a little relieved. "Okay, good."

Meredith is facing away from him as Zola heads back to the kitchen. Derek wraps his arms around her and rests his chin on the top of her head.

"Was that okay?" he asks, noticing how quiet she is.

She turns, still in his arms. "Of course it was okay." One of her hands rises to touch his cheek. "It's important to you that Zola believes," she says hesitantly.

"I guess it is." He glances toward the wall behind him. They're in a forgettable bit of hallway except that there are little scraps of memory everywhere in this house. He sees the groove in the wall that he caused swinging a hockey stick when he was still in the junior leagues. His father helped him fill it in, reminded him how to be safe with his equipment.

His father is everywhere, in this house –

But never so much as at Christmas time.

"Then it's important to me too," Meredith says, and rests her head against his shoulder. He just holds her for a long moment.

"Christmas was magical, when we were kids," he says tentatively. "I want it to be that way for Zola too."

Meredith nods.

"It takes work, sometimes," Derek admits. "The first Christmas after …"

His voice trails off.

They tried to keep it together, to keep the magic alive for Amy – they knew their father would have wanted it.

But it was hard.

"I wish you would come downstairs, sweetheart. I could use some help hanging the stockings."

"Why do we need stockings?"

"For Santa..."

"Mom, no one believes in Santa anymore," Derek says. He focuses on the baseball trophies that line his windowsill so he won't have to look at his mother's face to see her reaction to his words.

"You're grown up now, I know." His mother sits down on the side of his bed. "You … and your big sisters too. Amy's still little, though. She still believes."

Derek presses his lips together tightly so he won't say anything he'll be sorry for later. Like that Amy might be little but he doubts she still believes in Santa after what happened to their father.

Where was Santa that day?

Who cares about a few presents or some dumb old man with a white beard when their father never came home?

"Isn't there anything you want for Christmas, Derek? Anything that's possible," his mother adds gently. It's like she knows what he's thinking.

That what he really wants for Christmas … is to get his dad back.

And that isn't possible at all.

He just shakes his head.

His mother doesn't leave, though, she puts one of her hands on his arm. "You come downstairs when you feel up to it, okay? You don't have to hang stockings if you don't want to."

He nods. What he actually wants is to be alone, and he's relieved when she starts to leave the room. She pauses, though, with her hand on the doorknob.

"Derek? You won't tell Amy … about Santa Claus, I mean …"

Her voice trails off.

"I won't," he assures his mother.

And then he gets to be alone – which is what he wanted, he's almost sure, except he still feels heavy, like he weighs four hundred pounds or there's a bowling ball sitting on his chest. He counts his baseball trophies, and then counts the red encyclopedias on the bookshelf handed down from Lizzie. If he gets real sad the best thing to do is count his actual baseball cards, and sort them different ways: last name, number, RBIs …

He saves that for when it's really bad.

But he's not alone for long; the door is pushing open. He's gonna yell if it's one of his older sisters because they always made him knock on their doors so bursting in on him is unfair.

It's not, though. It's his little sister.

She opens the door without knocking, but then pauses, her little face looking worried. "Can I come in?"

He nods.

Amy looks relieved. She climbs up on the bed and looks at him curiously. "You sick, Derek?"

"Nah, Amy, I'm okay."

"Oh. Good." She settles down against his legs. Amy has been real nervous all the last year about people being sick. She practically had to be hospitalized herself when Kathy had appendicitis in October. Father Patrick came over to visit and he said it's natural to feel worried when you lose someone. Father also said they could talk to their dad whenever they wanted to, and he would hear them in heaven. "But what's the point if he can't answer?" Amy asked. Derek thought it was a pretty good question but it made his mom look like she was going to cry, so he shushed his little sister anyway.

"It's gonna be Christmas soon," Amy says, tracing the pattern on his plaid comforter with one finger.

"I know."

Amy is quiet for a while. Derek can hear little slurping sounds that mean she's sucking her thumb.

"Are you excited?" She asks him in a small voice.

"Um … kind of," he lies so she'll feel better.

Amy looks doubtful. "Really?"

"Really? Really, I kinda wish we could skip Christmas," Derek admits. He knows it's dumb to say something like that to a little kid like Amy but somehow … he kind of thinks she might get it. Amy might not be much more than a baby but there are some things only the two of them understand.

"Me too," Amy says softly, proving his point, and then starts sucking her thumb again.

Thanksgiving was so weird and uncomfortable. They went to his aunt Mae's house and everyone seemed worried all the time, staring at him and Amy and his older sisters, taking his mother aside, and there was a lot of sniffling, and everything tasted like dust.

"But Mom loves Christmas," Derek says, squaring his shoulders a little. "And so did Dad. So we gotta make it nice for her."

Amy doesn't say anything.

"Okay? You gotta make cookies with her and Nancy and stuff and decorate the tree …" Derek's voice trails off. "You love Christmas too, Amy," he says faintly. "At least you used to."

"Christmas is dumb," Amy says. "Cookies are dumb. Trees are dumb."

"What about Santa Claus?" Derek asks quietly.

Amy makes a little snorting sound of disgust that she definitely got from one of their older sisters. "Santa's the dumbest of all," she says scornfully.

"Don't say that in front of Mom," Derek warns her.

"kay." Amy's thumb returns to her mouth. "Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think if we all didn't ask for any presents at all, this year, that Santa might bring dad back?"

Derek feels like crying but he can't, not in front of Amy. She needs him to be brave. He pats her little head with its messy dark hair and waits until his voice feels almost steady. "I don't think Santa can really do that, Amy."

"What about God?"

"Him either." Derek feels like something is sticking in his throat. "Look, let's just – talk about something else, okay?"

"kay." Amy settles down against his legs again. Derek shoves balled up fists against his eyes. He's not going to cry in front of his baby sister, especially not when she's not even crying. He pats her hair again, like he figures his dad would if he were around.

"Derek?"

"Yeah."

"I wish Santa could really do it, though," Amy says quietly, her words a little muffled around her finger.

"I know, Amy … I do too."

Meredith is very quiet, listening to the story, her arms wrapped around him.

"That must have been so hard."

"Yeah. It was." He's grateful for her presence, but also that he can rest his cheek on top of her head and not look in her eyes.

Because he's not sure he could keep it together right now if he did.

For a few long moments they just breathe together.

"You wanted to keep some of the magic alive for Amy," she says gently. "I think that's … beautiful, Derek."

"We couldn't, though, not really." He leans back to see her, brushing her hair from her face and then framing it with his hands. "But we tried."

She smiles sadly at him.

"And then, you know … my sisters got older, they got married, had kids … it was easier when there were new babies, and then …"

"New magic," Meredith suggests softly.

"Right." Derek smiles down at her. Some of the heaviest in his chest that felt real again when he recalled his teenaged self melts away and he feels … lighter. "So even though at some point Zola's going to figure it out … I still want her to have that magic now, while she's young."

"I want that too," Meredith says.

He kisses her, tasting salt and then pulling her in for another hug. "You never believed in Santa?" he confirms, holding her against him.

"Nope." Meredith tilts her head up to see him. "It just … wasn't really a part of Christmas."

Derek looks sad; she touches his face with one small hand. "It's okay, really," she tells him.

"I wish you could have had Christmas magic," he says after a moment.

"I can … now," she reminds him.

Now … things are very different.

Not only didn't she have Christmas magic then …

She didn't really have Christmas either.

"It's such a depressing place to be on Christmas, but I'm not going to say no to time and three quarters, not with Mike out of work and things so tight at home," a woman's voice says from above her.

Meredith stays very still, listening.

"No, of course not. But it could be worse. We could be in Peds. It's just so hard to see those little faces, you know?"

That one was a different woman.

Meredith is making herself very small under the nurses' desk, where she likes to sit to do her coloring. Nurse Patsy told her she could sit there whenever she wanted, but her shift is over, so now Meredith is listening to her replacements.

"It's terrible." One of them clucks her tongue. "You know who I saw stalking around here before – "

But then she hears them stop talking.

"Meredith! We didn't see you there, honey."

She's startled to realize they've noticed her under the desk. Hesitantly, she looks up, and then she's relieved.

It's just Nurse Rita and Nurse Gwen. They're two of her favorites. Once she heard Nurse Rita say, "I wish I could take that sweet little girl home with me and just fuss over her. You know the ice queen's no warmer at home than she is here." It made her feel a little funny – like she was being mean or something, because the idea of going home with Nurse Rita and getting hugs and cookies sounded pretty good.

"Sorry," Meredith says, smiling shyly up at them.

"Nothing to be sorry about, sweet pea." Nurse Gwen roots in the pocket of her uniform. "How about a candy cane?"

"Thank you!" Meredith beams. She doesn't like peppermint but she does like presents – presents mean people are thinking of you.

"What are you doing down there all by yourself, Meredith?"

"Coloring," she says.

"Oh. Right. Is your mother …"

"She's in the OR," Meredith says. She chews a little on her lower lip. "I'm not supposed to bother you," she adds. "I can just color right there." She points under the desk, where it's cozy and quiet. She even has a little pillow.

She sees the two nurses exchange a glance. "You're not bothering us, sweet pea," Nurse Gwen says. She looks over at the board. "That surgery started hours ago. What have you been doing since then?"

Meredith screws up her face to think. "Um … reading, and I colored some pictures, and I had dinner."

"You had dinner?"

Meredith nods. "In the cafeteria." She shows Nurse Rita the change in her pocket. "There's a Christmas special! Kids are half off," she adds, smiling. That dinner was so good. Mister Pete gave her an extra scoop of stuffing and made sure there were no lumps in her mashed potatoes. He's always really nice to her and puts a cookie on her tray that he says is "on the house." She got to sit at her own little round table by the windows and watch the snow fall outside and read her book.

Meredith feels a little nervous now. She's not supposed to be wandering around and she's not sure if the under-desk spot she likes counts as wandering around. She knows the cafeteria is okay, and her mother's office, but it's lonely in there. If she wanted to be lonely she could have stayed in their apartment, which is real drafty now that it's cold out and she has to have a TV on to keep her company. It gets so cold here.

The hospital is never quiet. There are so many people talking and laughing and even crying but it's nice and noisy. Under the desk she can hear all sorts of things that are going on.

"Well, isn't that nice," Nurse Gwen says, but Meredith can see from her pink mouth – Nurse Gwen wears lipstick and everything – that she doesn't really think it's that nice.

"You know what, sweetheart," Nurse Rita says, "why don't we take you over to Peds. I think Santa just left, but there's a clown in about … twenty minutes, and some arts and crafts too."

"But you don't like going to Peds," Meredith says, then her eyes widen when she realizes she's giving away that she was listening in.

Nurse Rita doesn't seem bothered, though. "Oh, I like it when I have someone fun to go with, like you, Meredith," she says. She holds out her hand. "And there's also the sweetest little toddler with a broken leg I'd like you to meet," she says.

Meredith is happy to walk with her holding her nice warm hand. Nurse Rita walks fast – her mom says all doctors and nurses walk fast, they have important things to do, hurry up, Meredith, I don't have time for this.

So they're going real fast around the corner when they walk right into a man half in and half out of his Santa costume in an open exam room. Meredith giggles a little because he looks so surprised.

Nurse Rita claps her hands over Meredith's eyes. "Oh, don't look, sweetheart, it's just, uh, one of Santa's helpers," she says hastily.

"It's okay." Meredith smiles up at the nice lady, who takes her hand away once she's closed the exam room door. "I already knew it's just a costume, Nurse Rita. There's no such thing as Santa."

Nurse Rita looks sad, for some reason, and Meredith wonders if maybe she accidentally spoiled it for her, which wouldn't be nice.

"But it's okay if you believe in it," she tells Nurse Rita. "Lots of other people do."

That's who Christmas is for: other people. Meredith knows that.

Nurse Rita doesn't say anything else, just takes her to Peds where the other kids are real sick but they seem to like Meredith visiting and the clown lets her be his helper and everything and pass out presents to the kids. They sing songs and play games too.

It's so cool. It's almost like a real Christmas.

Derek sighs against his wife's hair, pulling her in a little closer so she's fully wrapped in his arms. If he had a time machine he'd go back and scoop up that tiny version of her and bring her to his parents' house for a real Christmas.

But he supposes the second best thing would be to hold her closely now, to bring her into the fold of his family and to continue to strengthen the little family they've built. He closes his eyes, grateful for the magic surrounding this house, surrounding Zola and Bailey and the whole season.

"I love you," he says quietly.

"See, I was just thinking the same thing." She tilts her head back to see him, her eyes clear, her smile bright.

"Meredith…" He kisses her gently.

"I was also just about to do that. Are you reading my mind?" she asks teasingly, propping a hand on her hip.

Before he can respond, the doorbell rings.

Derek wonders if his mother has actually started locking the doors.

"Blake's back!" One of the nieces shouts.

"Oh, good." His mother heads for the door. "I was getting worried about them, driving all over in this weather. I hope she found that book."

But when the door opens, revealing Blake's beaming face, she doesn't have a book with her.

Not at all.

Instead, standing between Blake and her father, and in front of Derek's two grinning nephews, is a very unexpected guest.

"Merry Christmas!" The new arrival looks from Carolyn to Derek and Meredith and then back to Carolyn. "And, um … surprise?"


To be continued. I hope you enjoyed the longest chapter yet in this story! FYI, I am expecting 2-3 more chapters, and I am excited to finish this story up because, well, I think you're going to like the ending. But I won't get ahead of myself. I just hope you liked this chapter! So pretty please bring some Christmas joy to this grey sleet-y day and review! xoxo