AN: All I do is gush because you're all so wonderful and sweet. I was blown away by the comments on the last part and happy to read such thoughtful commentary on what I wrote. So many of you have opinions on Meredith's pregnancy and I love reading them. A lot of you are also worried because of the Code Silver, which does mean weapon in the hospital. We're going to get back to that code, but only after this chapter.

HOWEVER, very good news. I had mentioned I wouldn't be updating the week of Christmas, but I will! I thought I wouldn't have time to write since I'll be with my family, but I actually already wrote the chapter for next Wednesday! I still have some editing and tweaks to make, but you will be updated next week.

Once again, I do want to say that I've had this story line in place since the beginning. I actually wrote this story surrounded by this idea, so I'm so glad you're enjoying what you're reading. This part below is Derek's POV post break-up with a cliffhanger at the end. Sorry! But again, I'll be updating in just a few days.

I'm wishing you all a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, and a happy holiday season. I'll see you next week!

Amelia has been calling me all morning, which I keep ignoring. I'm a bad brother.

I know she's been doing well; Mom told me, but I'm not sure I'm ready to listen to her talk about being well. My lack of attention span has nothing to do with Amelia. When she's doing well, I love talking to my sister, but with recent events I'm not so ready to talk to my overbearing family. In fact, I haven't spoken to any of my family members since last week. I'm trying to hold out as long as possible.

There's a knock on the door and before I even invite the person in, Alan is standing in the doorway. "Mr. President, do you have a moment?"

"Sure," I say with a sigh.

I get up from my desk and walk around to sit down on one of my two couches. Alan sits across from me. He has an official White House folder in his hands. "I know you're not interested in discussing the details of you and Doctor—"

"I said no," I remind him for the billionth time.

"Sir, we need to figure out a game plan. June third is less than two months away. It would be better to make the announcement now rather than later."

"I'm very much aware that June third is less than two months away. You don't need to tell me that, Alan." I sound angry and bitter, but I am angry and bitter.

I now understand why the President doesn't date in the White House. Becoming involved with anyone is messy and hard, but it's even more difficult when you're under the constant watch of 330 million people. In the beginning, I never expected us to split, but now that we have, I wish for the days early in our relationship when no one knew we were dating. That time was so much easier. I'm not wishing Meredith and I never happened, but I am wishing we'd fought harder to keep our secret. Maybe none of this would be happening.

Alan sits quietly across from me, which I know is painful for him. He's always so opinionated and I know he's secretly gloating on the inside because he knew this would happen. I know he's on my side for all things having to do with the presidency, but he was never on my side when it came to Meredith. It feels like no one agreed with our relationship, except for Grant and Toby.

I can't claim to be totally okay with Grant. For one thing, the conversation I had with Alan which Grant overheard, was private. We were in this very office, which should be the cone of silence. But I'm also mad because he said something to Meredith. I was going to tell her.

But to be honest, I'm angriest that I didn't just tell Meredith in the first place.

Or maybe fought harder against her taking the job as First Lady at all.

I'm just angry.

"I don't mean to press you, Sir…"

"But you're going to anyway."

Alan nods. "We need a plan. You don't need to announce anything today, but we need to figure out when to make an announcement."

I know he's right and I also know sooner is better than later. So I concede, "I'll write something up. I leave on Monday for my trip, so maybe I'll make the announcement tomorrow. Give everyone the weekend and then make some big moves while I'm in Cuba."

"That's a good plan, Sir."

My desk phone rings and then picks up, "Mr. President?" Sophie, my receptionist, says.

"Yes?"

"Your sister Amelia's here to see you."

I look over at Alan. "How did Amelia get in?"

He shrugs. "I don't know."

"Sir?" Sophie says.

"Yes, send her in." The line goes dead. "We'll need to room, Alan."

Alan stands, "Of course, Mr. President. We'll discuss this more later."

The door opens and Amelia walks right in like she owns the place. "Alan," she greets my Chief of Staff.

"Doctor Shepherd," he says. "You look well."

"I am."

Amelia stares at me across the room and Alan excuses himself. I walk around my desk, feeling like I'm in trouble. I pretend to have the power in this relationship, but my sister has always had a way about bringing me down a few steps. She walks over and sits down on my couch.

I sit down in my desk chair. We're both silent.

After some time I ask, "So are we just silently fighting?"

"Well, some would say not answering my many phone calls would be considered rude. How do you know I wasn't in trouble?"

"Mom said you've been doing well."

"Not that kind of trouble," she says. "What if I needed you to help change a flat tire?"

I shake my head. "You live in New York. Why would I be your first call?"

"I've been in DC for a week. I text you a month ago to tell you I'd be in town for a medical conference. Don't you remember?"

I rack my brain, but I don't remember.

"You text me back saying we should get dinner. You told me Thursday. Today." Clearly I look confused because Amelia says, "Do you seriously not remember?"

"I have a lot to worry about, Amy."

She nods. "I know, but it was your idea." She stands up from the couch and walks over to my desk. "Okay, I'm going to pretend I'm not mad at you for forgetting your favorite sister and you're going to pretend you're not busy and we're going to have lunch. See? A compromise."

I sigh. If I'm making an announcement about our break up tomorrow, I might as well tell Amelia today. She'll tell the rest of the family and I'll be off the hook. "Okay, lunch," I agree. "What do you want? I'll have the kitchen make something."

Amelia and I both place an order with the kitchen and are promised food in about twenty minutes. I sit down on the couch across from Amelia and with the way she's looking at me, I know she wants to tell me something.

"Mom says you're doing well."

"I am. I'm clean and sober."

"Good. What else is going on? Are you still seeing that guy…what's his name?"

Amelia looks confused and then says, "Marco? No, we're done. I'm single, actually. And focusing on myself."

"That's big of you."

"I thought so."

"I feel like you want to tell me something," I say, deciding just to come out with it.

She smiles. "I do. It's nothing bad. Exciting, actually. I got offered a job in Seattle. At Seattle Grace. It's a top tear program and they have an incredible neurosurgeon on staff and I'd be working directly with her."

"Seattle," I repeat.

Amelia nods. "I know it's big, but—"

"It is big, but it sounds like a good program. A good situation."

"It will be. It could change a lot for me."

"Good." I'm genuinely happy. "You deserve to start over."

"Thank you." Amelia is still beaming. I haven't seen her this happy in years. "I'm leaving in a few weeks, but I'll be back for the wedding. I promise. I already booked a ticket."

Immediately I feel bad. I look down at my shoes, trying to collect myself. My sister has never been good about thinking of others, but the fact that she's thinking of Meredith and my wedding while making her plans is heartwarming. Too bad there won't be a wedding.

When I look up, Amelia has a look on her face. "What happened?" she asks.

I shake my head. "I should reimburse you for that ticket."

"What are you talking about?"

"Meredith and I…" I begin, but I don't finish my sentence.

Amelia says, "You broke up."

I nod.

"What happened?"

I didn't expect to feel so sad. I've been sad for a week now, but I've also been angry and hurt. Not at Meredith, really, because she was right. I've been pushing her into this role and this lifestyle for a year now and she's always been patient and understanding. She's done what I needed her to do and been there for me and I can't remember the last time I really did something for her. And Meredith was never asking for a lot.

I'm angry and hurt because she never said anything. Maybe I should've noticed, but she never said how badly she was affected by the news reports. I had no idea she was so unhappy. And although I knew she didn't want the role of the First Lady, I did think she'd come around. I just assumed she knew that by marrying me, she'd be expected to fill the role.

I keep picking up my phone to call her. I want to apologize and make everything right, but at the end of the day I do have a duty to this country and I do have a constitution to uphold. The First Amendment says, "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercises thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for the redress of grievances."

Basically I have no right to stop the press from saying whatever they want to say and as it was made very clear to me, I will have a First Lady.

"I was handing Meredith the role of First Lady, which she didn't want, and it's a necessary role. She also believed I should've done more to protect her from the press, or at least stand up for her."

"Okay. Is that really why you broke up?"

"Do you think I'm lying?" I ask.

"No, but it seems like bullshit reasons."

"Why?"

"Because isn't the First Lady just a glorified hostess?"

I shake my head. "No. The First Lady is an important position. Sure, she's expected to greet guests and design the parties at the White House, but she's also the figurehead for the social side of the White House. She's expected to work with charities and organizations to bring social awareness to the people."

Amelia takes a long pause and then asks, "Do you honestly think Meredith Grey was going to design parties and be a figurehead for anything?"

I could lie, but Amelia knows me too well. "No."

"Then why did you tell her she had to do it?"

"Because I was told we needed a First Lady. I'm down in approval rating and my team believes it has to do with my unorthodox personal life. We were hoping by fulfilling the role of the First Lady and by getting married, Meredith and I would resemble a typical White House family and my rating would go up."

"Did you get engaged just for your approval rating?"

"No!" I say quickly.

"So why make Meredith take on a job she doesn't want for an approval rating? And why care about approval ratings at all? People probably hate you because ISIS is still bombing the shit out of Syria. And that test rocket exploded. And Russia is being sneaky. Again. And the UK is Brexiting. I know it's not a verb," she says before I can correct her. "Who the fuck told you the single reason you're disliked is because you don't have a First Lady? You haven't had a first lady all year."

"I know, but—"

Amelia shakes her head. "You're crazy. You're giving up Meredith because she won't fulfill a role that doesn't need fulfilling. Who has been doing all those things this past year?"

I feel stupid when I say, "We hired a team. They've been throwing the parties and showing up for charities."

"You're an idiot. You've made this into a big deal and it didn't have to be. You're the President, Derek. You make the rules. So make them."

I'm still mulling over my sister's words when our food arrives. We don't do a whole lot of talking through the meal because I am too busy making plans. I hate to admit it, but Amelia is right. I don't need to force Meredith into this role.

However, I am still worried because the First Lady conversation was only the catalyst for our breakup. The reason Meredith and I ended things—or should I say Meredith ended things—is much bigger than some stupid job. Meredith was right in saying that I haven't supported her and that's what I need to do. But before I apologize to Meredith, I need to do some apologizing right here in the White House.

Amelia leaves with a promise from me to see her off in a few weeks. I need to visit New York City anyway, so I make a plan to see my sister during that visit as well. I also promise to visit once she's settled in Seattle. We share a long hug and I thank her, which seems to make her even happier than both her sobriety and her big news combined.

After Amelia leaves, I call Grant into my office. I haven't seen him a lot lately, but I think he's been avoiding me. I also haven't been leaving the White House much, so his services haven't been needed.

Grant waits for me to answer the door, unlike Alan.

"Hello Sir," he says politely and I motion for him to take a seat.

"How are you?" I ask, feeling awkward. For more than a year now, Grant has been Grant, my protector, so sometimes I forget about Tom, my good friend.

"I'm fine, Sir. And you?"

I can't really handle the politeness. Sitting across from me is the guy who I used to hold upside during keg parties so he could do a keg stand, always drinking faster than anyone else. "Tom," I say to him, which quickly puts us both at ease.

Tom relaxes and says, "Derek."

"I've been punishing you for what you said to Meredith."

He nods. "Yes, but I shouldn't have said anything."

"Maybe right then wasn't the best time, or maybe giving me some warning would've been good, but I don't think you were wrong in telling her. It's just that I should've been the one to tell her. That's on me, not you."

"I do want you to know that I didn't mean to tell her. I mentioned it in the conversation because I thought she knew. I didn't just come out and tell her that you were going to make her First Lady. It was casual. However, I do see how that wasn't my place."

I nod. "Sure, but had I told her, it wouldn't have mattered. I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry for punishing you this last week. This isn't your fault."

"Thanks, Derek. I appreciate that. And I'm sorry, too. For my role in all this."

"Apology accepted," I tell him. I hold out my hand. Tom shakes it.

"So what now?" he asks.

"Now, I have to make an even bigger apology."

Tom smiles a bit. "Do some groveling?"

I nod. "Exactly."

I'm feeling better after my conversation with Amelia and Grant. I have a lot of work to do, but the first step is making a call. I call Meredith and wait for her to pick up, but it goes to voicemail. I'm assuming she's in surgery, so I leave a message, "Hi Meredith, it's me. I think we should talk. I know you have some really genuine concerns about what I was asking of you last week and I want us to talk about it." I pause and then say, "You don't have to be First Lady. You don't have to be anything you don't want to be. But I hope you still want to be my wife because I want to be your husband. Please give me a call back. Okay. I love you. Bye."

After I hang up the phone, feeling just a little pathetic because I feel like I was begging a bit, my office door opens without a knock. Alan is standing there.

"Alan, I'm going to have to ask you to make sure you knock. And when you do knock, you have to wait for me to tell you to come in."

"Sir," he interrupts.

"I know I sound like a stickler, but if I'm on the phone, you just bursting in here will throw me off."

"Of course, sir, but we have a bigger issue right now."

"What issue?" I ask, almost casually. I'm used to handling issues.

"There's an active shooter, sir," Alan says.

My blood turns cold. "Where?"

We're had so many mass shootings in the last decade or more, but every time I hear about one, I have the same feeling in my gut. I feel like I might be sick. It's worse now that I'm the President because while everyone else can mourn privately in the aftermath, I'm always expected to give a speech and make people feel better. It's hard to make anyone feel better when you feel like you might throw up every few minutes.

Alan pauses and then says, "A local hospital."

For a solid minute, I just stare at him because I know when I ask what hospital, I know what he's going to say. It's the look on his face. It's the way he can't meet my eye. I know what he's going to say and I need him to say it, but I also can't hear him say it.

Against everything inside me screaming to not ask, I do anyway, "What hospital?"

Alan swallows hard and looks worried. "Georgetown, sir."