A/N: Thanks for all the generous reviews on the Mark/Addison interlude. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Now we're back in the present. This chapter needed to be very long to accommodate the next one, so I'm sharing it as is. I hope you'll enjoy it.

blindsided
...

Derek floats Liz's invitation to Mark by email and is saddened – but not surprised – that Mark is appreciative and encouraging of their taking Viv with them.

"He says he has no idea when they'll …" He finds his voice trailing off as he explains the situation, quietly, to Meredith. They've snatched a moment of privacy so he can run Liz's invitation by his wife before he shares it with the larger group.

Meredith nods, then pauses. "Viv will need a swimsuit..."

She doesn't add and I doubt you want to go back to that house. She doesn't have to, which is one of the many things he loves about her – he can read that unspoken clause in the softness of her eyes, and he nods to acknowledge it.

"She may have packed one," Derek realizes as he says it, remembering how independently Vivian packed her own little bag in the sad confines of her bedroom. "And if not … we'll figure something out."

"Okay, then." Meredith smiles, and he follows her back into the kitchen to share the news.

Predictably, Zola shrieks with joy at the word swim. Carolyn nods approvingly. Vivian, though, stares downcast at the kitchen table.

"Viv?" Meredith probes gently.

After a moment, Vivian raises sad eyes. "Do I have to stay here by myself?"

"No, of course not," Derek says quickly. "You're coming with us. Liz asked for you especially," he adds, stretching the truth just enough, he hopes, to make Viv feel welcome.

Logistics make the rest of the day pass quickly – keeping busy, Derek knows well from his mother, and by the time Meredith gives him an encouraging nod after tucking Vivian into the empty bed in Zola's room, he's starting to feel almost optimistic.

...

She's not sure, really, what wakes her up. Only that she wakes up, slips out of bed, and pads quietly into the living room. There, standing with her back to Meredith, seemingly looking out the blackened window, is Vivian.

Her long, messy hair extends so far down her back that it covers most of her short summer pajamas. If she hears Meredith approaching, there's no sign.

"Viv?" she calls softly, not wanting to alarm her, but she doesn't turn around.

One of her fingers is moving in the air, just slightly, in repetitive fashion, the other cupped near it.

The combination of Viv's pale, expressionless face, her curtain of tangled hair, and the eerie half-familiarity of her movements leaves Meredith unsettled.

Vivian permits Meredith to lead her back to the little bedroom, even climbing into bed and closing her eyes. Meredith draws up the covers, then finds herself

She watches for a little while to confirm that Viv has crossed whatever line it is that separates actual sleep from the discomfiting half-sleep of her nighttime disturbances. When the little girl's breathing is deep and even, small hand loose on the comforter, Meredith finally leaves the room.

And then almost stops breathing when she runs into Derek as she closes the door. He's all apologies for startling her, and she takes a moment to let his steady heartbeat calm her down.

"I heard something," he says by way of explanation. "Was she …"

Meredith nods, answering his unspoken question. "She's asleep now," she assures him, though she can't help wondering how much longer she'll stay asleep.

She finds her nerve endings on edge as she and Derek makes their way back into bed. In the middle of the mattress, Zola sleeps with peaceful abandon, one of her little arms flung across Meredith's pillow – almost as if trying to reach for her mother. Her small, warm body is comforting as they take their places next to her, but Meredith still has trouble falling back to sleep, waking fitfully when she thinks she hears something.

Is this how Viv's parents normally sleep? The idea makes Meredith sad – but it's sadder still when she realizes it's parent now, and there's no definitive answer as to when it will be parents again. The snake-tail of Vivian's sleep disturbances and her family's stress makes it unclear, at least to Meredith, how it's all linked – but the idea of facing what the Sloans have faced without even being able to sleep peacefully through the night seems nearly unbearable.

She takes a moment for gratitude before she's able to drift off.

…

Derek wakes to the smell of something cooking, rich and savory. At first he just rolls over, seeking Meredith's familiar warmth everywhere but her cold toes, and enjoying the feel of her breathing against him.

Then he blinks open his eyes and it takes a moment to remember where he is – the new scent of the sheets, washed by a different detergent, and the wheezy drum of the industrial-strength air conditioning keeping the relentless humidity at bay.

New York.

Another blink and he realizes Zola is no longer in bed with them. Carefully, he disentangles himself from his wife, not wanting to alarm her, but as soon as he pulls open their bedroom door he can hear the rise of fall of chatting voices from the kitchen.

Meredith rouses then, and after a rueful glance at their shared exhaustion, she ties on a robe and follows him to the kitchen.

There, he finds the heavenly scent of fresh coffee, a sizzling pan on the stove, slices of bread neatly lined up in front of the toaster, and his mother, wearing an apron he's fairly certain he never saw in the kitchen, looking absolutely in her element. At the kitchen table, two little girls are looking together at a large board book.

"Good morning," his mother says pleasantly, as if all this is normal.

Derek has to blink again to clear his head. This could be any weekend morning of his childhood, coming downstairs to find his mother cooking up a breakfast storm while a few of his sisters entertained themselves in the kitchen, helping wherever they could or just sticking around because of the warm, welcoming nature of the room.

"Daddy!" Zola squirms down from her chair and runs over to him. He scoops her up for a kiss.

"Mom …" He shakes his head.

"I made vegetable omelets," she announces. "Are you ready to eat?"

"You're supposed to be recovering, Mom. Healing."

"This is how I heal," his mother says, smiling. "Zola, sweetheart, go sit down and Grammy will get your breakfast."

Zola, no fool, immediately slides down from her father's arms to go back to her seat. Derek glances from the omelets – bursting with vegetables – to his mother.

"Where did you even get all the – "

"Elizabeth dropped off groceries yesterday," his mother says, as if that's perfectly normal.

"Well … it looks great," Meredith says weakly.

"Aren't you tired?" Derek tries one more time.

"I'm an early riser," his mother shrugs. "And so are the girls. Vivian was so helpful, setting the table for me."

Viv looks up at her name, then back down.

The girls. That's usually Liz, Kath, and Nancy – sometimes Amy too – and it sounds both odd and also perfectly normal to hear the term attached to Vivian and Zola.

His mother has managed to rationalize all his protests, characteristically, so without further attempts to argue with her, he helps Zola get settled and then, when his mother refuses to help him serve, takes a seat.

Finally, to his relief, his mother sits down too.

"What's that?"

Zola peers at the pieces of omelet Derek has cut and put in front of her.

"That's the nice omelet Grammy made for you," Meredith says.

"Yuck," Zola says loudly.

"Zo, that's not nice," Meredith reproves.

"Why not?" Zola demands.

"Because … because …" Meredith glances at Derek. "A little help here?"

"Because Grammy made you a nice breakfast with lots of delicious, healthy things," Derek says, "so we say thank you, Grammy."

"Thank you, Grammy," Zola repeats sweetly, beaming at her grandmother. Then she shoves the pink plastic plate away. "Yuck, put it in the trash can, Daddy."

Derek has to press his fist against his mouth to keep from laughing. His mother looks like she's having the same problem.

"And how about you, little miss?" Carolyn smiles at Vivian. "You haven't tasted it either."

"I'm not very hungry," Vivian says. She glances at Derek's mother. "Thank you," she adds.

"Ah." Carolyn gives Vivian a conspiratorial glance, then lowers her voice to suggest she's speaking only to Viv even though it's audible to the table. "Well, that's too bad, because I was hoping you could help me out."

Viv looks confused, but vaguely intrigued.

"Well, this one," Carolyn gestures at Derek fondly, "never wanted to eat a vegetable. Oh, he was terrible! If Derek saw green on his plate … he would see red instead. But if he saw his big sister Nancy eating it … oh, that was a different story. Then he thought it was the best thing in the world."

"Really?" Viv asks.

"Really?" Derek repeats.

Meredith kicks him under the table.

"Oh, yes. Together they cleaned me out of lima beans and spinach." Carolyn nods toward Zola, who is now banging her pink polka-dot fork rhythmically on the table as if it will magically summon a more appealing breakfast. "I was wondering if that would work with Zola, too. She is Derek's daughter, after all."

Viv glances from Zola to Carolyn, who nods encouragingly. Then, holding her fork and knife perfectly like a small adult, Vivian cuts a piece of the omelet and puts it in her mouth. They all watch her chew with fascination like she's an animal on the nature channel.

Or maybe it's because she chews quietly and politely with her mouth closed, a skill they haven't yet broached with Zola.

Viv finishes chewing, pats her mouth with a napkin. "Yum," she says with feigned, but relatively believable, enthusiasm. "That's really good."

Zola is watching her with interest now, fork drumming paused.

"Oh, you like your eggs, Viv?" Carolyn asks heartily.

"Yeah, I really like them," Viv responds.

"I'm so glad." Carolyn beams.

Derek is fairly certain neither participant in this two-woman show has a future on Broadway, but they're apparently convincing enough for Zola, who picks up a piece of the omelet with her fingers and pops it into her mouth.

Zola's gaze darts around the table at the adults studiously ignoring her, and then to Viv, who is continuing to eat her eggs with purposeful gusto. Quickly, Zola grabs another fistful of omelet and chews it happily, rewarding Meredith with an eggy smile.

Before long Zola's entire serving has disappeared.

"Vivian Sloan," Derek's mother says with a smile, "you are going to be an excellent big sister."

Viv doesn't respond.

"All done!" Zola reminds everyone loudly, waiting for praise, which quickly comes her way.

"What do you say to Grammy?" Derek reminds her.

Zola turns to her grandmother with a big smile. "Don't put it in the trash can," she says.

Carolyn grins. "I'll take it."

…

Vivian gets herself ready for the trip to Connecticut, as self-sufficient as she was the day before.

Her long hair is a bit of a tangled mess.

A bit more of one, actually. She's holding a hairbrush in one hand in the little room where she slept when Derek stops in the doorway.

"Vivian, dear, would you like me to help you with your hair?"

He turns to see his mother behind him.

Viv holds the brush, looking uncertain, the offer hanging in the air.

Derek's mother takes a step into the bedroom, smiling warmly at the little girl. "I have four little girls," she tells Vivian, "who are all grown up now. And I have ten granddaughters. I've done a lot of hair in my day. In fact, I learned a few new techniques when – "

"Mom," Derek says quickly, anticipating where this is going. He shakes his head and she gets the drift.

"It's a little hot out to have all that lovely long hair down," Carolyn cajoles. "We could make a nice braid."

Vivian considers this for a while. "No, thank you," she says finally, backing away towards the little wall mirror.

Derek watches her try to make a ponytail out of the long, tangled strands.

"That poor child." Carolyn shakes her head as she follows Derek to the kitchen. She pauses, then glances at her son. "You stopped me, before…"

"Right." Derek checks the open archway to confirm that Viv is out of earshot. "Vivian doesn't know that you … knew Addison."

"Ah." Carolyn nods, then looks pensive.

"What is it, Mom?"

"Nothing. Just … I hope it doesn't come to this, but one day she may want to find out whatever she can about her mother. She'll want to talk to the people who knew her."

We don't have to think about that right now, that's what he wants to tell his mother. That they have time.

But for some reason he can't seem to get the words out.

…

"Daddy has a big car!" Zola announces excitedly to the doorman, who's helping load them into the minivan Derek rented. It's approximately the size of a school bus, as far as Meredith can tell, so she can't blame Zola for being impressed. It also has a carseat for Zola and some kind of booster with five-point restraints for Vivian and – to Zola's utter delight – a screen setup to play media for the children in the back seat, complete with headphones.

After a minor argument about where Carolyn should sit, Derek finally urges Meredith to back down and helps his mother into the back seat between the two carseats.

"Perfect," she beams as Zola pats her arm in welcome with one sticky little hand, and Meredith can't help smiling at the fact that her mother-in-law seems to be telling the truth.

"This car is very high tech," Meredith observes, after she's fitted both girls with headphones and set an animated movie to play for them.

"Well, so am I," Derek says, dodging a yellow cab in a way that makes Meredith very glad she's not the one driving. "Very high tech."

"Very," Meredith agrees. He glances at her briefly while they wait at a red light, his smile still just as capable of turning her heart over as it was the very first time.

They're not very far on the highway before Meredith's check of the backseat in her folded-down mirror confirms that Carolyn and her granddaughter are both fast asleep. Viv is awake, watching the movie. Meredith notices that the little girl is settled to one side of her booster seat, as if trying to keep from touching Carolyn. It's odd after Viv seemed so comfortable sleeping in the older woman's bed her first night with them, but Meredith is reminded that Vivian might not even remember that experience. She studies the solemn, pointed little face. For a moment Viv's eyes flicker and Meredith thinks she might catch her gaze.

She doesn't, and Meredith is left wondering, not for the first time, how much must be going on behind the child's serious eyes.

Traffic is light – Derek has timed it well – and Meredith watches the grey urban landscape turn greener by stages. Commuter trains chug in eventual step with the cars on the highway, and the glances she can see of home turn slowly from urban to suburban.

Meredith hasn't spent much time in Connecticut, familiar with it mostly as a bridge between Boston and New York. She's not familiar with its nuances or its borderlines, but by the time Derek murmurs, "I think that's the exit up there," they've left suburbia behind and firmly entered something more rural, with dense thickets of tall trees surrounding winding roads.

She glances at her husband – his expression seems calmer as they make their way up the country road. It seems there must be at least two Shepherd siblings, then who enjoy the woods.

..

Derek has never tried to wake a sleeping bear – in fact, he spent his childhood coached to stay far from bears of any kind – but he's fairly certain that attempting to move his napping daughter from the minivan can't be much different.

Zola even growls before she bursts into tears, shoving Derek unceremoniously and lunging for her mother. Derek hands her off with apologies to Meredith and helps his mother out of the car before turning to Vivian. She apparently hasn't been sleeping at all, but he's now spent enough time with her to realize that tired is how she generally looks. He unbuckles the complicated harness; his hands hover near her for a moment before Viv pushes herself to her feet and ducks around him to hop down from the minivan herself.

All five of them blink in the hot bright sunshine – the humidity is more bearable here, the air cleaner, scented green and growing. Derek notes that, like so many things about the family he hasn't seen much of in the last half-decade, it's simultaneously just as he remembers and utterly unrecognizable.

"Derek!"

There's little time for sentimentality, though, because Liz is waving from the stripped-wooden gate he remembers multiple small nieces and nephews climbing. His sister is flanked by one of his no-longer-small nieces.

Derek carries their things and offers an arm to his mother; Meredith is cradling a whimpering Zola. Viv hangs several feet back until Meredith turns and frees a hand to reach out to her. She doesn't take the proffered hand – but she does catch up.

And then they're walking up the cobbled path, golden wildflowers bursting between their feet, and Liz is holding open the gate to welcome them.

"It's been too long," she says, kissing Derek's cheek and relieving him of his bag, handing it to a young man Derek doesn't recognize.

"Didn't I see you two days ago?" He keeps his tone light, and Liz lets it go, turning to fuss over their mother instead.

"Hi, Uncle Derek." His niece Carly – a bright teenager when he left, thinking about colleges, and now a first-year medical student – smiles at him. "This is my boyfriend, Kyle," she says, gesturing to the young man holding their bags. Derek sees Liz flinch perceptibly at the word boyfriend and assumes there's a story there, but for now just shakes hands.

"Kyle, my uncle Derek and my … aunt Meredith."

Now it's Meredith's turn to flinch – though Derek is fairly certain he's the only one who would notice, because she greets Carly in a friendly way. Derek remembers they had dinner together – in fact, Meredith has seen Liz's daughters more recently than he has.

Kyle shakes hands with Meredith, then looks from Zola to Vivian.

"Carly, your cousins are so cute," he says.

All in all, Derek thinks, Kyle's assessment is remarkably generous: Zola, still half asleep and cranky from the car, is currently trying to weld herself to her mother, little fingers tangled so tightly in Meredith's collar that the modest shirt his wife wore in the car has become something else entirely. And Viv, who's taken an automatic step back upon seeing the new people, is scowling at the gathered Shepherds as she worries the end of her long, messy ponytail in two small hands.

Carly just smiles brightly. "Thanks!" She turns to Derek.

"Everyone's so loud," Carly grins, gesturing towards the large sloped backyard, where Derek can see clusters of Shepherd cousins. A jewel-blue pool sits at the bottom of the sweeping grass, audible splashes and shouts suggesting its use. Carly winces at a little at a particularly loud yell.

"I can show you somewhere quiet," his niece offers, glancing toward a fussing Zola as they walk a flagstone path toward a rough-hewn deck Derek remembers well. His brother-in-law's architect hand is all over this house, and Derek always appreciated his clever little touches. At a nod from Derek, Carly gestures for Meredith to follow. She does, hefting a sleepy Zola higher and taking Viv by one limp hand.

Derek watches them go, Kyle drifting off toward the rest of the cousins.

"That was nice of her," he tells his sister.

"She was a little shy too, at that age." Liz glances across the yard.

"She doesn't seem so shy now," Derek prods gently, curious about Liz's reaction

His sister makes a face, picking up his meaning easily. "I mean … he's … fine, you know, but … she's too young to be that serious."

"It's serious?"

"It's always serious with Carly." Liz shakes her head.

There's a moment when Derek tries to remember being that young. "You dated in medical school," he reminds his sister gently.

"That's different." Liz smiles at him. "Get used to it, Derek, it's always different with your own kids. It will be for you too. All the stupid things we did, and the dangerous ones – god, do you remember the tree house?" She starts to laugh. "I can't believe no one ever fell out."

"Amy fell out. Didn't she?"

"Oh. Did she?" Liz considers this. "Maybe I was already out of the house by then."

She probably was. Derek heard the unspoken qualification in her voice, of course. No one ever fell out meant none of the originals – the first four. The girls means Liz, Kathleen, and Nancy. Is there a term for all five of them?

"Derek?"

He nods.

"Nancy –"

"She's here?" he interrupts before he can stop himself.

Liz shakes her head. "She said she was working."

Said.

"Anyway," Liz continues, "I was just saying that I know Nancy is a lousy messenger."

It's a non sequitur, but it's hardly inaccurate. "Go on."

"…but I really hope you do come around more. No, don't – I'm not trying to pressure you, really. It's just been so long."

Derek looks out at the bright blue water of the large swimming pool, the scattered chairs and towels, and listens to the rise and fall of family voices. No one approaches them; they're half-hidden and shaded by a garden shed Derek helped Cooper and several nephews build one crisp autumn that feels like decades ago now.

He's grateful for the relative privacy as he tries to consider how to answer his sister.

"I know," he says finally. "You're invited to Seattle, you know."

"Really." Liz props a hand on her hip.

"Really," Derek says bravely. "Well, you know … one at a time."

Liz laughs a little bit at this. "Meredith isn't sick of us yet?"

"Believe it or not … it doesn't seem like she is."

Liz seems to be thinking about this. "I like her."

"Good. I like her too."

"Derek?"

"Yeah." He tries not to sound too impatient.

Liz pauses before continuing. "You're … different, you know?"

"It's been a few years," Derek reminds his sister.

"I know." Liz pauses, shading her eyes from the sun as she watches the volleyball game beginning on the green grass – part wild, part stamped down, dotted with bright yellow dandelions. "You seem happy."

"I am." Derek sighs at the look in his sister's dark eyes. "Don't make that … face," he scolds her lightly, "you look like Mom."

"What's wrong with looking like Mom?"

"Nothing, unless you're trying to make me feel guilty about something."

"I'm just saying you don't have to wait another six years."

He knows this. He does. Liz seems to be reading his mind, though.

"I worried a little, you know, when it was so long without hearing from you … that you thought we weren't on your side." We. The role and responsibility of the eldest: speaking for everyone.

"Weren't you?" Derek can't help asking.

"We were on your side, Derek, you're our brother!"

"So was he, for all intents and purposes, wasn't he? And she was your sister," he adds; Liz doesn't seem surprised to hear it.

"Was," Liz repeats. "Look, Derek, what they did … none of us excused it, you know? Not even Addie, from what I heard then, and … Nancy, you know, kept up with her the most, she lives in the city and they're in the same professional circles, but …" Liz pauses. "You know, before the wedding."

Derek thinks for a moment she means whatever wedding Addison and Mark must have had, but then realizes she means her daughter's disastrous wedding in California, where a furious Nancy blamed Addison for Amy's relapse.

"They still talked after that," Liz says, "not as much, but … more than I would, in Addie's shoes."

Derek isn't surprised. In his experience, Addison was as quick to forgive as she was to wound. Of course she would take Nancy's scraps, even after everything that happened between them.

"And now you're babysitting their daughter," Liz says, looking pensive. "She doesn't remember us, does she?"

"Vivian?" Derek asks, and Liz nods. "She doesn't seem to, no. She was very young at Clara's wedding."

"Right." Liz pauses. "It's so good of you, to help out with her. I mean, after..."

"It was a long time ago," Derek says. He's thinking of having those words printed on a t-shirt for the duration of his stay in New York. "You know, it's not particularly flattering to hear how surprised everyone is that I … " he tries to think of how to fill in the rest of the sentence.

"… have a heart?"

"Yes," he says irritably. "Mom, you … is it really so shocking?"

"Not shocking, Derek, just … " Liz's voice trails off and then she shakes her head, biting her lip. "It's terrible," she adds, and Derek doesn't have to ask for clarification. It's clear she means Addison's illness.

"Did you tell Kath?" he asks.

"Bare bones." Liz shrugs – sibling shorthand, and then just like that their semblance of privacy is gone.

"Uncle Derek! I thought I saw you."

Derek has only a moment to be stunned that his nephew, approaching with a young woman around his age, is taller than he is. Chris was eighteen already at the wedding, the last time Derek saw him – tall and wiry, but a still-growing teenager with puppyish hands and feet. Now he's filled out, with a thatch of Liz's dark and his father's easy smile.

Derek was in medical school when Christopher was born, and he's always had a special affinity for him. Maybe because Kathleen and Nancy have two boys each, a matching companion in the sea of Shepherd women. But Christopher, like Derek, was the lone boy in a house of sisters. Derek made sure to pay Chris attention, to watch out for him.

Now he exchanges the time-honored one-armed embrace with his nephew and shakes hands with the pretty blonde at his side. "This is Peyton," he beams.

"Peyton," Liz mouths from behind them to Derek.

"Nice to meet you, Peyton," Derek says, ignoring his sister's decreasingly subtle gestures. He decides not to judge Liz too harshly, since the thought of Zola bringing a boy home fills him with terror no matter how many years in the future it will be.

Liz, to her credit, waits semi-tactfully until Christopher and Peyton have made their way back to the volleyball game before she turns to Derek.

"They're too young," she says simply. "And she's … they're too young," she repeats instead of finishing the sentence.

"Clara married young, and you supported that," he points out.

"Right … and look how that turned out." Liz makes a face.

For a minute Derek remembers the dusky beach, Amy's shouts, the clatter of metal and glass and the sirens.

"That was the wedding," he reminds his sister, "not the marriage. Those are two different things."

Liz nods, and Derek lets the import of the words wash over him before following his sister down the flagstone path.

...

Meredith is impressed with Carly's sensitivity in thinking to separate the two overwhelmed children from the sea of strangers. Indoors, she doesn't crowd Zola or Viv, just leading all three of them into a quiet family room and then busying herself looking for something on a shelf.

It doesn't take Zola long to come around – it never does. Moments after her tearful entrance into the pleasantly cool room, she's dug her face out of Meredith's neck and is giggling with her cousin. The room is thickly carpeted with a large, child-friendly couch – covered in the sort of material even the most determined toddler can't destroy. Meredith produces a stacking toy and a baby doll from her diaper bag; Zola snatches both toys and ushers Vivian to the far corner of the room.

Meredith is left with Carly, who looks over at the two little girls, and then back to Meredith. She seems to want to say something, but can't quite decide. Finally she speaks, her voice low.

"I, uh, I heard Aunt Addie's sick."

Meredith isn't sure how much or which details she knows; she's not exactly used to this game of chess Derek apparently plays with his siblings whenever information is at stake. All she knows is that she's relieved Viv, who is currently playing with a gleefully loud Zola, can't hear.

So she just nods.

Carly's voice is wistful. "I don't remember her not being around, you know? She was already in the family by the time I was born."

Meredith nods.

"She helped me a lot when I was applying to Columbia, and …" her voice trails off and she looks troubled. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Meredith says. "It's sad."

Based on her expression, Carly seems to think she might be offending Meredith. "I mean – things change, I know, but still …."

Meredith nods. "I get that."

"It's nice that you guys came here," Carly says after a moment, her voice sounding steadier now. "My mom really wanted to meet Zola."

"Zola has enjoyed meeting all of you." Meredith gives her a nod and then turns to check on the girls.

"Meredith?"

She turns around again. There's a pensive look on Carly's face. "I just wanted to say that, um, we have room for lots of aunts in our family. Like, a ton…"

Her voice trails off and she gives Meredith a hopeful half-smile, which Meredith returns. Even without a finished sentence … she does know what Carly means.

"There you are."

They both look up to see Liz in the doorway. "Take your time," her sister-in-law says quickly. "I just wanted to say hello and see how you were doing. It's beastly hot out there."

"We're recovered." Meredith smiles. "Thanks to Carly."

Carly nods and takes her leave as Meredith realizes Liz is holding a shopping bag. Zola, whose hearing is bat-level when it comes to potential presents, is suddenly at her side. "Hi," she says cheerfully to Liz, pointing to the bag. "Mine?"

"Zozo," Meredith says gently, attempting to separate from her the bag.

"It's yours," Liz assures her, glancing at Meredith. "I hope it's okay. I mean, we haven't really had a chance to spoil her."

"Of course."

Liz reaches into the bag and hands Zola a pink cardboard box with a clear screen; inside is a baby doll in a yellow-flowered onesie, thumb wedged in a pink plastic mouth.

"Mommy, help." Zola shoves the box at Meredith, eager to see her present, and Meredith unwraps the present after thanking Liz.

The doll is larger than the one they brought with them. Hard plastic wisps of blonde hair dot its round head, and when its eyes flap open, fringed with brown lashes, they're bright blue.

"I heard you're going to be a big sister," Liz says, smiling at Zola, "so you can practice!"

Meredith wishes she didn't notice Viv going stiff at the phrase big sister.

Zola regards her new doll curiously, then glances at Meredith, then at Viv, who is still sitting on the couch holding the baby doll they brought with them, with creamy coffee-colored skin and a soft fuzz of dark hair on its little head.

Liz suddenly looks mortified.

"I didn't think – I mean I just thought the baby would be … I mean the new baby …" Liz stammers. "God, I'm sorry. Here I was trying to – and I think I've screwed everything up."

"No, it's fine," Meredith says hastily. "Really. It was so sweet of you to buy her a doll. Zola likes dolls."

Zola is still examining the baby doll. "Mine?" she asks.

"Yes, Aunt Lizzie bought the doll for you," Meredith tells her. "What do you say, Zozo?"

"Thank you," Zola says automatically, her focus still on the doll. She gives the baby a few perfunctory rocks, then looks from the bundle in her arms to her friend.

"Your baby," Zola suggests, handing Vivian the little baby doll from Liz with its painted-on blonde hair.

Viv takes the new blonde doll with her free hand, the dark-haired doll they brought with them in her other arm. Then she sets them gently down on the couch side by side.

"Two babies!" Zola sounds pleased.

"They're sisters," Viv says in the husky voice that's grown familiar now.

"Yeah." Zola smiles.

Meredith watches with interest though she goes unnoticed by either little girl.

"So sweet," Liz says gently. Meredith supposes from the faraway look in her eyes she's thinking about her own not-so-little girls.

From the moment she realized she would be spending time with Derek's pack of sisters, she expected to feel a great distance between herself and the other women. But while there's no doubt they're different, she finds herself interested in Liz's own parenting – she raised Clara, so calm at the wedding that fell to pieces around her, and Carly, who handled a shy Viv and cranky Zola so empathetically.

Liz seems to know what she's thinking. "I feel like my kids were that size yesterday," she says softly.

The sentimental moment is broken when they hear a loud sound.

They look over to see Zola crouched on the floor smiling broadly and using the head of her new doll to bang in one of the colorful wooden blocks in her stacking toy.

"Um," Meredith stifles a laugh. "I guess we have time to work on that before the baby's born…"

Liz smiles, then reaches back into the bag. "Vivian," she says, "I have something for you too."

"For me?" Viv looks intrigued, and somewhat doubtful.

"I heard you like swimming," Liz says, and produces a set of neon-colored rubber-looking rings. "They're diving rings. You get them off the bottom of the pool…" her voice trails off.

Viv looks genuinely pleased with the present, though Meredith has the sense she's been trained to act appreciative either way. "Thank you," she says, sounding a little shy. "They're great."

Liz looks relieved.

"What's that?" Zola looks with interest at Viv's present. "Sharing?" she asks hopefully.

"They're for big kids, Zola," Liz says with a smile, "to play with in the pool."

Zola frowns. "Vivi plays in the pool with me," she says possessively.

"Okay, Zozo." Meredith scoops her up. "There's enough of everyone to go around."

Liz glances out the window. "What do you think, girls? Should we go outside?"

Zola, suddenly shy again, clings to Meredith. "Stay here," she whines. Vivian looks equally uncertain.

Meredith gives Liz an apologetic look. "You should go," she encourages. "They might just need another few minutes to decompress."

"That's fine," Liz says. "I see the others all the time."

Meredith's gaze travels to Viv, who has rescued the blonde baby doll and placed it with its sister on the couch. She sees Liz is looking too.

"Oh," Liz says as if she's just thought of something. She opens a cabinet. "Vivian … do you want to see something?"

Viv glances over without speaking.

"Old pictures," Liz says to Meredith. "Dug them out of my mother's house when we were clearing the basement and stuck them in this album just temporarily – they're all out of order but I know I have some with – there we go," she interrupts herself; she's been paging through as they talk.

"It's your dad," Liz announces to Viv, holding out the album, "when he was young."

The album is large with a cracked cover; Liz sets it on the carpet and sits down with it.

After a moment, Viv approaches and kneels down a respectable distance from Liz.

Meredith follows.

"See, look, Vivian, there's your dad. They're teenagers here, Mark and Derek," she adds for Meredith's benefit. "Probably Chloe's age."

Vivian looks with interest at the picture. Both boys are wearing baseball uniforms and glaring at the camera in what she supposes was intended to look tough. The effect, though, is adorable, not the least because Mark seems to have achieved his growth spurt ahead of Derek.

"Daddy's so tiny!" Zola says with delight, and Meredith can't help but smile. She can almost imagine Derek's reaction, which probably includes the phrase don't worry, I caught up.

"That's your daddy," Zola says brightly to Viv, pointing at Mark.

Vivian nods, studying the photo. Her little hand hovers close to the faded capture. "Are there more?" she asks after a moment, then glances at Meredith. "Please," she adds.

"Of course, honey." Liz smiles at her and turns the page.

The next page skips decades. The baseball field is gone, replaced by reedy sand and a clapboard house, laughing faces in bathing suits.

"What are you doing?"

Meredith looks up to see a dark-haired teenager in the doorway. It's one of Liz's daughters, but she's not certain which.

"Looking at old pictures." Liz pats the carpet next to her. "Come and see, Chlo."

So it's Chloe, then.

"The old beach house," Liz smiles.

"Ooh, let me see." Chloe leans over. "I don't recognize it."

"You were so little when they sold it, honey."

Meredith studies the next page, another beach, a photograph of a much younger Liz, beaming and holding a dark haired child on her hip.

"Is that me?" Chloe studies the picture.

"Yes," Liz says, then pauses. "No, I think it's Cait. Hm." She studies it again. "Maybe it's you."

"You can't even tell us apart," Chloe teases. "Some mom."

Liz shakes her head. "Meredith, enjoy that sweet little girl of yours. It doesn't last."

"I'm sweet," Chloe frowns.

"More pictures," Zola demands, clapping her hands happily.

"Please," Meredith reminds her gently.

"Thank you," Zola replies cheerfully.

Liz covers her mouth with her hand; Meredith can see the smile splitting her face underneath. Quickly, she turns the page to find the next photograph.

The next page still looks like a beach house, but a different one.

"That's – " Chloe looks. "Is it Aunt Kathy's?"

Liz seems to be considering this, and then she and Chloe start discussing details Meredith can't quite follow. But that's all right because she's distracted by this newest picture. This time, it's a group of Shepherds gathered around a row of Adirondack chairs, some holding drinks, everyone looking like they're enjoying the golden light. The picture is somewhat overexposed – it must have been a sunny day.

At first Meredith is captured by the image of Derek, too much so to notice anything else – the picture was taken probably a dozen years earlier at most, five or six years before she met him, and she's seen very little of him from that era.

He looks much the same … except completely different, his hair shorter, some undefinable distinction in his eyes she can't quite identify.

"Daddy," Zola murmurs appreciatively.

Viv is staring at the picture.

And then Meredith realizes that perched on the younger Derek's lap, wearing a minimal navy two-piece bathing suit and laughing, is a younger version of Addison.

Her arm is slung around Derek's neck; one of his hands is at her waist and the other rests on her bare thigh. Addison's face is youthfully smooth, but she looks very much like the healthier woman Meredith remembers from the disastrous California wedding. There's no way Vivian won't recognize her mother.

And the picture leaves little – well, really no doubt – about their relationship … not even, she fears, to a child.

"I was so skinny," Liz, who doesn't seem to have realized the issue, says mournfully. "Look at that."

"You're not supposed to body-shame, Mom," Chloe scolds her and Meredith smiles faintly.

"You're right, Chlo. Thank goodness I have you to keep me in line."

"Daddy," Zola repeats, pleased, pointing to the little version of Derek's younger self in the picture. She squints at the figure on his lap, then looks up at her mother.

"Who's that?" Zola asks Meredith, pointing to Addison.

"It's, um …" Meredith pauses. Liz is saying something to Chloe, half turned away, apparently with no idea what's going on. "Um…"

"It's my mom," Viv says softly.

"That's your mommy?" Zola asks, sounding confused, little finger hovering near the former couple.

Viv nods without taking her gaze off the picture.

"Oh." Zola points to Derek again. "That's my daddy," she says.

Meredith is suddenly reminded strongly of The Parent Trap.

Well. A stranger version. Steeling herself to the uncomfortable situation, she tries to fid the most helpful – or least harmful – response.

Before Meredith can speak, Liz clicks back into what's going on and turns the page so hastily that Viv's little hand is bounced off the album.

"Oh, look, Chloe was just about your age here, Vivian," Liz says, her tone artificially bright, making brief, apologetic eye contact with Meredith.

"Ugh, that side ponytail is horrible," Chloe moans, seemingly immune to the tension in the room.

"You loved it," Liz retorts. "You used to beg and you never liked how I did it, it had to be Aunt Addie's way, with the – " she stops talking with a quick, uncomfortable glance in Meredith's direction.

Neither of them speaks for a moment.

"She was always good at hair," Chloe muses.

Meredith's gaze flickers toward Viv's tangled ponytail.

"I don't want to look at pictures anymore," Vivian says abruptly, and before Meredith can respond she stands up and walks out of the room.

To be continued.
More Shepherd barbecue coming soon. Chapter 36(!) will pick up directly from this moment. I know this chapter was long, but I promise you the threads will eventually weave together. I also have to admit I really enjoy exploring the Meredith-in-Derek's-family dynamic. I hope you will review and let me know what you think because I love hearing from you. Thank you for reading!