Disclaimer: If we owned Grey's we wouldn't have thrown Mer in the ocean. On second thought, apparently this leads to Patrick giving an Emmy worthy performance, so maybe we would have.

I ran my fingers through my dirty hair for the sixth time in twenty minutes, wondering if I smelled like vomit. In the two weeks since Lucas's attorney had contacted Mer, life had been turned upside down. Meredith tried to keep a happy front for Dillon, but she was stressed. I had found her underwater in the bath tub one day and had pulled her out, asking her what she was doing. She hadn't answered me.

Life was tense in the Shepherd-Grey household. Which just seemed wrong, we were living together, things should have been happy, relaxed, perfect. Meredith should be happy, that's what I was here for, to make her happy. And yet she was miserable. And now she was sick. Dillon had come home with the flu a few days ago and now apparently Meredith had picked up the bug too. I had been cleaning up vomit for three days straight. I wasn't complaining, but it was still definitely not how I had pictured my first couple of weeks living with Meredith. Running back and forth between Dillon and Meredith, ginger ale and crackers at hand, emptying mixing bowls of vomit; I wasn't exactly having the best few days of my life. But Dillon's puppy dog eyes were enough to make it worth it.

"How you feeling bud?" I asked, poking my head into his room.

"Sam and I don't feel good," he sighed, holding the teddy bear closely to him, a miserable look on his pale face.

"I know," I said walking over and pressing a hand to both of their foreheads. Dillon didn't seem too warm. "You don't have a temp, but Sam does."

"Sam's worse than me," Dillon sighed. "You should surgeon him."

"Sorry Sam, there's no surgeon that fixes the flu. If there was I'd surgeon all three of you," I responded.

"Is Mommy really sick?" he asked solemnly, a look of guilt passing through his eyes. "I'm sorry I made her sick."

"She's fine and no one blames you," I told him, smoothing his hair that was a mess from spending days in bed. "Do you want something to eat?"

"Can I have noodle soup?" he asked miserably.

"Sure, bud," I smiled, getting up from the bed. "I'm going to go check on your mom and then I'll take care of that."

"Okay," he nodded. "Sam wants crackers."

"Sam can have crackers, but he has to make sure he doesn't get crumbs in bed," I said nodding.

"No crumbs, Sam," Dillon said quietly to his bear as he turned over onto his side and I left the room to go check on Meredith.

Meredith had her eyes closed and she was curled in a ball. She looked as miserable as our son. I hated seeing them both sick. "Mer?"

"Hmmm," she moaned as he attempted to curl even further into herself.

"You okay, hun?" I asked her, sitting down on our bed.

"I feel like hell," she replied. "How's Dillon?"

"I think he's getting a little better, his temp is gone. Sam's not doing so well," I told her, chuckling softly.

She chuckled a little. "Whenever Dillon is sick, so is Sam. And Sam is always worse."

"Good to know," I wiped a strand of hair out of her face. "I'm going to make him some soup. You want anything?"

She groaned and then stood, running to the bathroom to empty whatever could possibly be in her stomach. I followed her patiently, holding back her hair as she vomited. After a few seconds, she fell against me, breathing deeply. "Sorry," she murmured.

"Nothing to be sorry for," I whispered, running my fingers through her dirty hair.

"I hate being sick," she said as she raised herself up slowly. "No food, but maybe some Pepto Bismol?"

"Sure," I said smiling at her. "I'm glad you and Dill aren't alone right now."

"Me too," she sighed. "Help me back to bed?"

"Of course," I responded, grabbing her arm and helping her off the floor. She felt skinnier than usual, tiny and fragile in my hands. I hated Lucas. Even before she had gotten sick she hadn't been eating much and as tiny as she was that wasn't healthy. This stress wasn't healthy.

She looped her arms around my neck, resting her head against my shoulders. "You smell like vomit," she said quietly.

"So do you, this whole family smells like vomit," I laughed, gently placing her back onto our bed.

"You can go back to the trailer to sleep if you want," she sighed. "I know you haven't slept in days."

"Meredith, I'm home. And I'm not going anywhere. I didn't take the week off to sleep in an empty trailer," I told her.

"Has Lucas called?" she asked as she buried her head into her pillow. "He's supposed to take Dillon but I called him to tell him it was a bad idea."

"I haven't heard anything from him yet," I said gently. "I'll take care of it."

"What about the lawyer?" she asked. "Have you heard from him?"

"No, but I will call him later to see if there is any news. And Mer, you're sick. Stop worrying so much," I smiled down at her.

"He could take Dillon," she murmured. "I have to worry, Derek. He could take my son."

"Dillon isn't going anywhere, you know what Ronald said. It will all be fine. And you don't have to worry. Dillon isn't just your son, I can do the worrying," I told her, pressing a quick kiss on her forehead.

She smiled slightly and then frowned. "Derek."

"Yes?" I asked.

"Your cologne," she pulled back, pulling a grimace. "Why the hell are you wearing cologne?"

"I always wear cologne," I said frowning.

"It's too much," she stood up and ran back to the bathroom, throwing up again.

"Sorry," I said, following her back to the washroom and walking over the sink to try to wash some of the scent off.

"Oh God," she moaned. "Just...take a shower or something. I'm going back to bed." She made her back to bed slowly and fell onto the bed with a groan, curling into a ball.

I looked at her worriedly and left the room. I'd take a shower after I took care of Dillon's soup, Sam's crackers and Mer's pepto. And then I would call Ronald and see where we were on the custody case. Because in Meredith's shape that was the last thing she needed to deal with. Besides I wanted to beg Ronald to make this as quick as easy as possible, my family didn't need this stress.

I quickly made the soup, grabbed the crackers and the Pepto, and then went upstairs, balancing it all precariously. To say I was worried about Meredith was an understatement. After Lucas's threat, she hadn't slept for days. She had somehow picked up my habit of pacing and it wasn't unusual for me to wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed and a pacing Meredith.

Meredith had done nothing in her life to deserve this. She had slept with a guy in college, an ass in college and was still dealing with the mess she left. And she didn't deserve this. I wanted this to be over with, I wanted the judge to demand Lucas out of Dillon's life. I wanted to adopt Dillon, I wanted to marry Meredith. I wanted the happily ever part to start.

"Derek!" Dillon's voice called to me as I went upstairs with his chicken noodle soup. "Daddy Derek!"

"Yeah, bud?" I asked, walking down the hallway as quickly as possible.

"I threw up again," he said quietly, coming out of the bathroom, Sam clutched in his tiny arms.

"Oh, bud," I said, setting the soup down and pulling him into my arms. "Are you okay?"

"I don't wanna be sick anymore," he mumbled. "And Sam wants to feel better too."

"I know, I know. Give it a couple of days and you'll be good," I told him soothingly.

"Daddy Derek," he whimpered, "what if you get sick and go away? Like your daddy."

"My daddy got a lot more sick than the flu, bud," I told him looking into his tear filled eyes. "And even if I get sick, I promise you, I will never go away. I'll be with you, Sam and your mommy forever."

"Good," he nuzzled my neck. "Will you read me a story?"

"Of course I will, bud," I told him picking him up and carrying him back to his bed room.

He cuddled into bed, curling into a ball like his mom and handed me a book. "Daddy Derek, I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad I'm here too," I said, settling down to read to him. This should have been hell, taking care of two sick people should have been hell. And yet it all kind of felt right, I was supposed to be taking care of them.

The next day, Dillon was out of bed and climbing the walls, but Meredith was still sick. I tried my absolute hardest to keep both Dillon and Sam quiet, but after spending three or four days in bed, the six year old couldn't stay still. "Derek! Derek, can I climb the tree! Please! Please! Please!"

"Dillon! We've already been over this, you can't climb a tree, not today. You're just getting over the flu and your mom is sick, and you just can't," I said a little more harshly than I meant to.

"But I'm fine now!" he said, jumping off the couch as I came into the living room. "I haven't thrown up and I'm fine! And Sam's fine!"

"I know you're feeling better but you really shouldn't be climbing a tree after being sick. It's not safe," I told him.

"Can I go ride my bike then?" he asked as he jumped back on the couch, jumping up and down on the cushions.

"I can't go with you, so you have to stay on the driveway," I warned him

"Derek, let's go to the park!" he apparently had changed his mind fast. "Yeah, the park! Sam wants to go to the park!"

"I can't go to the park, bud. Your mom might need me," I said.

"What's going on down here?" Meredith came downstairs, almost as if by cue. She looked awful. Her hair hung around her pale face, her lips chapped and her eyes bloodshot.

"Dillon is a ball of energy," I told her laughing, putting an arm around her to lead her to the couch.

"Mommy, let's go to the park!" Dillon jumped on the cushion next to her as she sat down slowly.

"Maybe tomorrow, Dill," Meredith said trying to smile.

"But I'm boooooooooooored!" he drew out the word as he jumped up and down on the cushion, making Meredith groan.

"Stop jumping," I told him. "And I'm sorry you're bored. How about you go upstairs and play?"

"Upstairs is boring," he said, still jumping.

"Dillon, the jumping, stop it!" I said, a lot more harshly than I meant to, but the movement was obviously making Meredith nauseous.

He stopped for a second and then stared at me. He obviously was testing me. Testing my limits. "Why?" he said, taking a little jump. "I'm bored."

"I know you're bored, but your mother doesn't feel well and you jumping is not helping," I told him seriously, feeling like his dad for the first time

He turned to Meredith and gave her a kiss on the head. "Mommy, are you sick?"

"Yeah, babe, mom's not feeling so well," Meredith responded.

"Oh," he bit his bottom lip for a second. "Sam will kiss it and make it all better."

"I wish it was that easy," Meredith said grimacing slightly.

Dillon sat down next to her and put his head on her lap. "It will be okay, Mommy."

"You want anything, Mer? A cup of tea? A hug?" I asked.

"No," she sighed. "Why don't you take him to the park before he explodes?"

"You sure you'll be okay here alone?" I asked her.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Izzie's coming over for a little bit."

"Okay, I'll bring my cell and you will call me if you need anything. Anything. " I told her as Dillon ran to the foyer to put on his shoes.

"I will," she nodded and curled up on the couch, bringing her knees to her chest. "Have fun, boys. Dill, be good."

"He's always good," I told her, leaning over and giving her a quick kiss. "Love you."

"You too," she murmured. "And don't kiss me, we don't need you getting sick too."

"I had my flu shot. Webber's orders," I told her. "So I can kiss you all I want."

"You like kissing my vomity mouth?" she looked at me, eyebrows raised.

"I just like kissing you period, vomitty or not," I smiled.

"Get out of here," she chuckled a little bit, hitting my arm.

"You'll miss me," I laughed as I headed to grab my jacket.

"Of course," she nodded. "See you soon."

"Bye," I told her opening the door and leading a skipping Dillon outside.

"We're gonna play on the swings and on the slide," he was talking so fast I could barely understand him. "And on the go round."

"Okay," I laughed at his enthusiasm.

"And then we'll get ice cream!" he shouted. "Derek, let's get ice cream! And ice cream for Mommy!"

"I don't think your mommy wants any ice cream right now," I told him. "But we can have some."

"Do you think Aunt Izzie will bring Becky?" he asked. "Sam wants to see Becky!"

"I don't know, bud. She might not want Becky to get sick," I answered.

"Oh," he nodded. "Okay, Daddy Derek, let's go have lots of fun!"

"Sounds good," I said smiling at him. He was the most active little kid ever. And that most adorable. I was used to kids, but something about Dillon made him different. Maybe because he was practically mine but I had feeling it was more than that.

We had a blast at the park for a couple of hours. Dillon was a ball of energy, never stopping, never even resting. I definitely got a work out just playing with him. He loved the swings, and must have been on them for an hour before I finally pulled him away from them. We stopped to get ice cream and then went home, where we found Izzie in the kitchen. "Aunt Izzie!" Dillon ran and hugged her.

"Hey Izz," I greeted her. "How's Mer doing?"

"She's upstairs in the bathroom," she said to me as she hugged Dillon. "Still feeling pretty sick."

"I'm going to go check on her," I said, moving to head upstairs. "Bud, how about you tell Aunt Izzie about the park?"

"Oh, Aunt Izzie!" Dillon started talking excitedly and I laughed as Izzie shot me a look.

I bounded up the stairs, worried about Meredith. She had seemed slightly better when we had been leaving so for her to be in the washroom yet again was definitely worrisome. She wasn't bouncing back as quickly as I had wanted. "Mer?" I asked, knocking on the door.

There wasn't an answer and I knocked again before slowly opening the door to find Meredith sitting on the tub, crying. "Derek," she sobbed.

"Meredith, what's wrong?" I asked, my heart rate tripling immediately.

"Derek," she sobbed and then fell into my arms, her body shaking with each sob.

"It's okay, it's okay," I murmured gently into her hair. I didn't know if it was okay. I didn't even know what was wrong. But I had her, she was in my arms, I was here. So it would be okay.

"Everybody's looking for what we've found..."