A/N - In this chapter, there are a few moments from Grey's strewn about and you could skip over them if you wish. The flashbacks are in Italics.

A/N 2 - I know that the timeline in this story is not in correlation with the one in Grey's. It's a fanfiction, so if I want to screw up the timeline, I can very well do what I please.

1 year after the plane crash. Some scenes can be found in 9x03 even though it hasn't been a year yet. I really wanted to include Jo and Alex, and believed it was best to incorporate their real first meeting.

It took all the strength she had to stay still. She was feeling practically every negative emotion that ever existed. She watched as the man lowered the gun and started pacing back and forth in front of her. He clearly didn't know what he was doing. She made a mental note of that; she knew it would be useful later. The clock in her head was counting the seconds that passed, they then turned to minutes, and minutes turned into hours. As more time passed, she felt hope rise within her; even if it was minuscule. Derek would be home sometime between the evening and sunrise.

The man sat down in the chair adjacent to her spot on the couch. He looked her dead in the eyes. If he was anybody else, she would have looked away. This man made her feel nostalgic, and she couldn't place a name with his face. It was becoming clear to her that she had met him before; at least once, if not more. In his eyes, she could tell he'd lost someone. She knew the look well; because his eyes were her own. Her heart skipped a beat as a sudden chuckle erupted from him.

"I'm sorry for whatever it is you're going through, but you're not going to overcome it by shoving it down and ignoring it. It'll still be there the next time you check." She felt the idiocy of her words linger in the air. When people did that; try to reason with someone unstable, they usually ended up dead or near-death a minute later. Still, she felt obligated to try. Try to talk him down, to get him to leave, to never see him again. She couldn't help but laugh inwardly. This was the second time she had a gun pointed at her.

Meredith and Cristina were walking through the halls, looking to warn Derek that the shooter was searching for him. They leaned into each other, praying that they wouldn't run into the wrong man. Meredith stopped in her tracks, and if they weren't walking so slow, Cristina would've rammed into her.

Cristina barely had time to register what was happening as she grabbed Meredith and held her back. She looked up and saw the man from the elevator pointing a gun at Derek.

They both started to walk forward. She kept Meredith from walking too far out, as the shooter would be able to see them if he looked even a little bit to his right. Luckily, he didn't. Unluckily, his sights were set on Derek.

Meredith was shaking - which was slowly moving to hyperventilating - as they watched the encounter. It looked like Derek was trying to reason with him. Cristina couldn't help but notice his eyes moving from the gun back to the man. The man's arm was quivering, and he started walking closer to Derek, who put his hands up in surrender.

Seconds later, they watched as the man slowly started to lower his gun. Whatever Derek said had worked.

The two men stood there, and it was a moment where no one knew what to do next.

Unfortunately, they didn't have time to make that choice as April Kepner came running through the double doors behind Derek, unaware of the present events.

Derek turned around, eyes wide. The man didn't waste a second in raising the gun once more.

Meredith knew what was happening before they heard the shot ring out.

She shuddered at the memory, and looked down. When she looked back up, the man was staring intensely at her, which made her stomach churn.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGA

"You mind?" Alex said, annoyed at the arm in his way.

"Sorry," a female voice mumbled.

He went to meet Callie and Ross at the ambulance bay. Incoming traumas always woke him up. The footsteps behind him grew louder as they grew closer. He looked back and saw the same intern who was in his way not just seconds ago.

"Why are you following me?"

"I'm your intern for the day," the brunette answered with a smile.

This woman was one of the few he hadn't slept with. At least not yet anyways.

"Oh. Well, hello, intern. You have a name?"

"Jo Wilson," she smiled at him.

Yea, there was no way he was passing her up.

"Oh, nice. I like chicks with boys' names."

"Karev," Callie warned.

"What? I do. It's hot."

"Stop sleeping with your coworkers. It ruins them," Callie advised.

"I slept with you," Alex remarked.

"And now I no longer sleep with men!" she said, raising her arms in mock surprise.

The two interns exchanged glances as the ambulance pulled up.

After they examined the patient, Jo was hoping to scrub in on the surgery. The girl's foot was practically hanging on by a thread and it was a miracle she was still able to move her toes. It would be an amazing surgery to scrub in on, or even observe. She went to hop in the elevator, when Karev pushed her back.

"This might take a while. I need you to stay behind and monitor my pre and post-ops," he instructed.

"Oh. But, um… I had hoped- since I was the one who saw the toes move, I'd hoped that I.." she cut herself off and shoved down her disappointment.

"But you need me to monitor your pre and post-ops. Got it. Great," she said as the elevator door closed.

Callie looked at him in mild disbelief.

"You could've let her scrub in, or stand back and observe," she said.

"Why?"

"Because she has joy," Callie's voice raised an octave. "I like joy, excitement, happiness, people looking at me like I know things. She practically squealed when I mentioned nerve testing." she sighed.

"There needs to be more squealing," she stated, watching the numbers on the elevator.

"I can squeal if you want me to," Alex suggested.

"That sounds dirty, and inappropriate. Oh, which I hear is your specialty these days!"

Shane rolled his eyes behind the two attendings and the pleasant 'Ding' filled the small room. That elevator could not have moved slower.

After an entire day of failed attempts to let Karev in on a surgery, she doubted she would ever see the inside of an OR. She saw him walking down the stairs, and immediately began listing the things she'd done in the past few hours.

"Dr. Karev, I've rounded on your pre-ops, your post-ops, I've run your labs, and I'm updating your charts right now," she said proudly.

Her words didn't seem to register, as he was looking through various papers on the Nurses station.

"What about my consult on the J.R.A kid? You schedule that yet?" he asked, picking up on what she was doing.

"Um, no, I-I haven't had a chance to-"

"You kidding me?" he interrupted. "Stop with the charting. Do it now."

Jo felt like she was punched in the stomach and tried to hold back her tears, but was failing miserably.

"Or don't," he said.

"No, I'm-I'm sorry. I'll schedule it. God, I can't believe I'm crying in front of my boss. I told myself that I wouldn't do this."

Alex stood there, waiting for her to finish. He remembered what it was like to be an intern, and it wasn't difficult to be sympathetic.

"Look, I'm not supposed to be this person. I don't fail. I was valedictorian of my high school, graduated cum laude from Princeton, I was first in my class at Harvard. How am I not getting this? I've somehow become the loser intern. I-I blew the appy with Dr. Grey, and you've been piling on the scut, so clearly I pissed you off somehow."

He managed to cut in before she continued her rambling.

"You get scut because you're an intern. That's what interns do, it's the best way to learn. And, you haven't pissed me off," he said, noticing the tears were no longer flowing down her cheeks.

"I haven't?" she asked.

"No, I'm just…" he sighed deeply. "Dr. Torres may have told me not to flirt with you. Because it may be possible that I dated a couple of other interns," he raised his voice like it was a question.

"You mean Heather," she said frankly.

"Yeah, her."

"And Leah."

"Yeah-" he began, but she cut him off.

"And Susan, Stacey, Tina, Irene. Don't worry about the flirting. I have absolutely no interest in you since you've basically screwed every one of my friends," she raised her eyebrows at him.

"I should go," he said, glad to flee from the awkward conversation.

She sighed, and he turned around.

"8 A.M tomorrow. I'm doing a Nissen. Don't be late," he said with a bit of warning in his voice.

She heard his footsteps depart and noticed the smile that grew on her face. The elevator gave it's usual 'Ding', before opening, and Dr. Yang quickly exited. The Cardiothoracic surgeon was heading towards her, and she felt herself tense up.

"Dr. Yang," she said professionally.

"Intern," she looked at her. "Whose service are you on today?" she asked.

"Karev," she replied. "He's finally going to let me in on a-"

"I don't really have the time or need to listen to your problems. Which of you interns has Grey?" she interrupted, getting straight to the point.

Jo sighed. Interns were of no significance to the attendings who had their own problems to worry about.

"Ross did. But she's not in, so he's with Bailey," she explained.

"What do you mean Dopey- er, Happy's with Bailey? She's not in?" Yang raised an eyebrow.

"She's not feeling well or something," Jo said to air as she saw her walking away.

"Why can I never find her when I need to talk?" Jo heard her mutter to herself. She watched as Dr. Yang disappeared down a hallway.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Meredith took a moment to survey the man. His unkempt blonde hair fell in front of his face, and occasionally his eyes. When he was pacing, she noticed how tall he was. He was at least 6 feet. The eyes filled with loss were cerulean, which made them pop out against his pale skin. He wore a heavy jacket, and jeans. The defining feature though, is the scar that runs from the top of his forehead, down to his eyebrow. She could tell from the scar that he hit his head on a sharp object many years ago. Whoever sutured it did a poor job, and it showed. She was surprised to see another one from under his right ear to his collarbone. About four inches. Either this man was accident prone, or he had a dark past. It was undeniably the latter.

He was still staring at her, and noticed she was genuinely looking at him too. He hoped she would recognize him, but when she leaned back and looked away, it didn't seem like she would. He continued to stare at her, as he couldn't tear his eyes away. It had been years, and he couldn't get over the fact that she was sitting in front of him, even if it was unwillingly. In his mind, he started to run through the different ways he could've done this differently. None of the other ways could've guaranteed her talking to him.

The house was completely silent. He focused on her again and noticed the wrinkle above her nose. That didn't change throughout the years. She still did that when she was in deep thought, or preparing the exact right thing to say. He realized she was trying to avoid pissing him off. God, if only she knew.

She broke the silence and spoke softly.

"Look, I'm sure whatever happened was horrible.." she momentarily trailed off. She thought about every bad thing that ever happened to her. The plane crash, the drowning, the shooting, the bomb...

"You have a feeling?" she heard Cristina ask, and she removed the pillow that was covering her face.

"Yes," she stated flatly, turning to her other side.

"Okay, what kind of feeling?"

"Like I might die," she answered.

"Today, tomorrow, in 50 years? 'Cause we're all going to die eventually. But now we're late. Let's go." Cristina pressed on, annoyed and eager to get to work.

"Cristina, come on!" she heard herself saying.

The curly-haired woman sighed and sat next to Meredith on the bed.

"Okay, this is me being supportive," she stated, throwing her dark hair behind her shoulders.

"Really?"

"Yeah, okay, fine. I'm totally supportive. Go." Cristina leaned forward on her hand, waiting for Meredith's response.

"Okay, the man I love has a wife, and then he chooses her over me, and that wife takes my dog. Okay, she didn't take my dog, I gave it to her. But I didn't mean to give it to her, I meant to give it to him. But that does not change the fact that she's got my McDreamy. And my McDog. She's got my McLife! And what have I got?"

Meredith paused, staring into Cristina's eyes.

"Do you know I can't remember the last time we kissed? 'Cause you never think the last time is the last time. You think there's going to be more. You think you have forever, but you don't."

She felt tears prick away at her eyes and let herself think, just for a moment, that the last time she'll have seen Derek would be the previous night. She recalled the time she had a "Just for a moment" thought, and that resulted in one of her many near-death experiences, that one particularly with water. No, no more of those. She would not let herself even think about having another negative - even if it be - a second long thought.

Something in her vision was darting back and forth and she realized she zoned out.

His hand stopped waving once her eyes were no longer distant, but looking straight at him. He was infuriated that she didn't remember who he was. She'd meant so much to him, and he seemed to be discarded from her memory. How was that even possible? She was involved in his life; in more ways that one, but she didn't know that. Yet.

He jumped slightly when he heard her voice.

"Kidnapping innocent people off the streets is not a good way to cope. Your pain is very real, I had nothing to do with that, but I'd be willing to help," she was shocked at how genuine she sounded. There were parts of her that wanted to help him, but other parts where she just wanted to knock him out and run to Derek and Zola.

He didn't speak for a while, and she felt something click. She didn't know how or why. Possibilities ran through her brain, finally realizing there was a reason why she was here. Her of all people. If he needed help, it wouldn't be hard to figure out she was a doctor. It was possible that he could be someone from the past. It was also possible that it could be Gary Clark all over again.

She sighed and looked over, and she felt relief wash over her tenfold. He had set the gun on the end table. She was not in any immediate danger, but she could do or say the wrong thing and that could change in an instant. There was some part of her, some deep twisted part of her that felt safe and comfortable. She was telling herself she had a brain tumor, because there was absolutely no other reason to have positive feelings towards a man who had been threatening to kill her for the last six hours.

It seemed like he was at a dead-end. She assumed he expected to get it over with hours ago, and in his far-off state, she pounced at her chance.

She wasn't oblivious; she knew that he was aware enough to be able to stop her if she reached for the gun. The thought had crossed her mind, but she explained it away. Her mind concocted a new strategy, and she subtly interrogated him.

"Who did you lose?" she asked.

"No one," he said curtly.

She almost snorted at that, but then remembered her situation.

"I've seen too much loss, and been through too much pain to not notice the signs of grief."

He nodded, but she didn't think he'd actually heard her. She knew she couldn't pry, or else he would catch on. They sat for what seemed to be an eternity. Every time the fear seemed to trickle away, she would see the gun and it would come rushing back instantly. 'Think Mer, think! You don't freeze in a crisis, do something!' she instructed herself. Usually, she was chock full of ideas and plans, but Jr. People-shooting hat guy over here was NOT helping. She decided to stop searching for plans, but let them come to her. 'If only I could get him to open up', she wondered. She knew that if she got out of this alive, the police would need a description, and at best; a name.

Instead of sitting in silence, she opted to tell him about one of her numerous near-death experiences.

"Last year me and my colleagues were flying out of state to do a surgery on conjoined twins."

She sighed at the still painful, recent memories, but this was the story she had to tell to get him to share more about himself.

"We were halfway there, I think, when the plane went into mechanical failure and crashed."

She almost missed the small movement he made when she said that. Maybe she deluded herself into believing he moved, and it was better to think he was listening.

"I don't really know all too much about planes, but.." she began to ramble but cut herself off when she remembered what she was trying to do.

"Since it's still fresh in my mind, I won't go into great detail. We crashed, and the first person I saw was my best friend Cristina yelling at me to get up. We found a few of our friends near a different part of the plane."

She paused, remembering Arizona's screams, and the worry that consumed her when she didn't know where Derek or Lexie were.

"Arizona, a fellow surgeon, was in hysterics. We could all see her femur sticking out of her leg. Mark found his way to us, and we soon heard a continuous banging in the distance."

She inhaled sharply, and looked down at her hands. His eyes were on her, almost sympathetic.

'That's not what I need,' she said in her mind. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, and continued to share her story, though she was quickly forgetting why she was telling him this.

"Lexie, my sister, was pinned under a piece of the plane. She had massive crush injuries because of the wing she was trapped under. She was stable, so I went to go find my husband, Derek."

She was surprised to hear him interject.

"Husband? Your husband, sister, AND best friend were on the plane?"

She didn't respond, just looked back down at her hands. They had both temporarily forgotten the events from earlier in the day. She could go back to worrying after she got a story out of him.

"After my failed attempts, I went back to 'Camp' and Cristina told me Lexie was in bad shape. But by the time I got there, she..sh-"

He cut her off, understanding.

"She died," he said. Meredith couldn't tell what he was feeling.

"Well yes, but-"

She was cut off yet again

"Say no more."

She didn't say anything else, neither did he. Worry riddled her bones, and she was suddenly doubting her attempt to get him to open up.

She looked at the clock, shocked to see that it was already 4:30. 'Derek will be home soon', she assured herself. She continued to stare

at the clock, its stubborn hands refusing to move faster.

Just when she thought she'd given up hope, he spoke.

"I did lose someone. Three years ago I lost my mom. A few months later, my dad died too."

She was not expecting that.

"Three years is a long time to be carrying that much grief around."

"I agree. But there are factors only time can resolve."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"My father was not taking my mother's death well. Not one bit. He thought she would get better, but she signed those forms. The forms, what are they called? The ones that say you don't want machines breathing for you?"

"DNR. Do not resuscitate," she offered.

"Yes. She signed the DNR forms. But my dad, he..he was in denial."

Meredith felt something familiar, that same feeling. She saw family members in denial trying to get doctors to ignore the patient's wishes, at least once a week. So why was she feeling so queasy?

She thought back to the shooting just a few short years ago. She learned that day how far someone would go for someone they loved; what grief could make them do.

"He filed for a lawsuit against the hospital for wrongful death and lost. H-"

He looked at Meredith, then at the spacious, open room behind her. He knew that face well, it meant she was in deep thought. He watched as her brain picked up the pieces. She knew.

"He shot up a hospital. Shot 18, killed 11."

Meredith looked up at him with pure hatred and rage, a war was being fought behind her green eyes. She shot out of her seat as if it were on fire.

"He killed 12. Your father is the reason that I lost my baby!" she shouted.

He hadn't anticipated that. He was hoping she would figure out the second part, but all she could focus on was her hatred for Gary Clark, and this man who was no doubt, his son.

"So you're going to..what? Kill me? Do what your father couldn't?" she began.

He hadn't planned that far ahead. Even though he'd been planning this for two years, he still had no idea what to do. He remembered how he spiraled after his dad died. 'That's when it happened,' he told himself. There was a point when he'd lost his mind, and that was it.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGA

(Flashback)

It took him over a year to make the connection. The police's light investigation was a mere courtesy for the victims' families. His father's motive was clear enough: get 'justice' by killing the three physicians who were on his mother's case. All he had to do was look up 'Seattle Grace - Mercy West Shooting'. He read several articles, some were mirror images, some were polar opposites. Few things remained the same throughout all of them. His father killed 11 people, and injured 7 others; he was after Drs. Richard Webber, Derek Shepherd, and Lexie Grey. The first article where he read his father's intended targets, he genuinely thought his heart stopped. His eyes lingered on the single word. Grey. He then typed 'Dr. Lexie Grey' into the search box. He had to know. The entirety of the first page supplied him with her account on the shooting. Under 'Parents', he noticed Thatcher Grey listed as her father. 'Impossible' he said internally. He clicked on his name.

"Ellis Jones marries Thatcher Grey," he read aloud. It was an old article, from around the 1970s.

He still refused to believe it. How was Meredith connected to one of those three? He clicked on the first link. She had recently worked on a clinical trial with Derek Shepherd. That's two out of three. Did they all know each other? They worked on inoperable tumors, and it seemed like he took most of the credit for their one success.

He backed out of the website and he clicked on the second link. It was another clinical trial with her and Derek Shepherd. Alzheimer's research. He skimmed through the article, ignoring the medical information, and moved to the bottom. They were blacklisted by the FDA because someone tampered with the trial. He froze when he read who got them blacklisted. Richard Webber. How the hell does she know every damn person in that hospital?

He then clicked on his name. Webber went through surgical residency with Ellis Grey. After browsing for a bit longer, he saw one final thing that caused him to slam the laptop shut. She was married to Derek. She knew these people his father targeted; she knew them well. One of the doctors was her sister, the other one was her husband, and the last one seemed to be close with her mother, and she had known him her entire life. How was she in the middle of everything? He had enough, and left it alone.

It was almost two years later before he came back to his research, feeling a renewed sense to carry out his father's last wish. It had now been nearing the three year mark since the shooting.

When research was getting him nowhere, he hacked into the hospital's records, and made sure he wouldn't be traced. He typed 'Meredith Grey' into the directory and he was surprised to discover how many times she'd been admitted to the hospital.

Hospital mandated therapy after code black. Fancy way of saying 'Bomb! Run!'. She had her hand on the bomb? And she lived to tell the tale? Oh, a man exploded in front of her, that would explain the therapy.

He moved on to the next admission. Appendicitis. Not too serious. He scrolled on.

"She what?!" he screamed at the computer. He hesitantly read the details. She was on site, working on patients after a ferry boat crashed. How exactly does a ferry boat crash? He paused, and answered his idiotic question with another one. How did the titanic crash? If something exists, it'll crash. He stopped scolding himself and kept reading. She was knocked into the water after helping a patient. It doesn't say how she got out of the water, but she was 'dead' for over an hour.

His eyes glanced to the next, and his heart filled with dread. The shooting. More hospital mandated therapy. Everyone had to be cleared by a psychiatrist before being allowed back into surgery. There was nothing else on that topic, since she was not actually admitted.

He froze on 'Plane crash', and that was the last time he looked at the records. He closed out of everything, not reading a single word about the crash. He knew she was alive, that's all that mattered. Truly conflicted, there was a war raging in his mind. This is what he'd been looking for, he just didn't know it until this moment.

Meredith Grey was the missing piece. In more ways than one. She was the connection between the three, and it was clear how much she meant to them.

After he was called in to identify his father's body - which felt ridiculous since he was the talk of the city - he vowed to carry out his father's failed mission. Not because he believed his mother could be saved, but because he wanted to complete his father's final task. When it was done, he would be done. He would finally disown his father, and move on with his life. But it would prove to be more difficult to walk away, especially from her.

(End of Flashback)

GAGAGAGAGAGAGA

"Before you say something you'll regret, there is something else you should know."

"What? What else could there possibly be?" she continued yelling.

He let her calm down on her own, knowing she couldn't go anywhere. After a few minutes, she sat back down.

"What?" she managed to say in a half-calm tone, still filled with anger.

He didn't speak, which was ignition to the flames of an already raging fire. She let her emotions swirl inside her, and hated that she couldn't let them out. It took her years to finally open up about how she was feeling, and fear is what undid all of that progress.

He wasn't as oblivious as she thought, he knew what she was doing. He gave her snippets of his reasons, hoping she would fill in the blanks.

She hated that this man was constantly leaving her in the dark, only revealing things in small amounts. He seemed to know everything, and she only knew what he wanted her to know

More ignition added to the fire. She used to know someone exactly like this. Someone who had all the power, every second of every day. Someone who only told her what he wanted to know, and at the time, she loved it. She loved the mystique, and the tension build-ups. But now? Now she hated it with every fiber in her being.

There was a reason he was doing this. He was trying to help her put it together; and she did.

When she looked up again, all the rage, hatred, and hostility melted away.