A/N: Hola trailblazers! Thank you so much for the reviews and comments and for sticking with this story even when I'm a slowpoke. (Especially Patsy, who never lets this story drop off my radar ... and is a rockstar ... so it never will!) Here's another big chunk of a chapter. And to the anonymous reviewer who thinks this story is depressing … you should probably stay away from my other stories, because this one is a bed of roses compared to my usual!

In all seriousness, though, I don't see anything depressing about taking steps to protect your marriage or your family, or making a change to support your spouse's career. Derek was prepared to move to Boston, even if temporarily, for Meredith's career. Meredith, in this story, is prepared to move to DC, even if temporarily, for Derek's career. Marriage is a give and take. Spouses support each other's careers and sometimes one of them has to come first; usually, the other one moves to the front seat the next time. I've seen lots of couples make these decisions, or plan for them, and I've never found it depressing in the least.

…but maybe that's just me. Enjoy the chapter!

.. Houses and Homes ..

Separation anxiety.

Stranger danger.

Fear of the unknown.

It has lots of names. But in your peds rotation, you learn that babies don't start out scared of new people. In the beginning, in infancy, when they're just little lumps, anyone can meet their biological needs. But then later … they decide who they know. Who their people are. And for everyone else, there's anxiety.

The thing is, it takes a while to develop that fear, but once the fear is developed, it's in place – and it takes a whole lot longer to develop the only thing that can treat it.

"No, I don't want you to go!"

"Zozo," Derek says, sounding surprised. He sits down in the rolling desk chair and takes her on his lap. "You know we're coming back in just a few hours."

The treatment? It may be just one thing, but it's not a simple thing.

"I know you're coming back," Zola says, tears in her voice.

The treatment ... is trust.

"Then what's the matter, sweetie?"

"Nothing," she says, fiddling with the ends of his tie. "I just don't want you to go out, that's all."

Meredith, who has been coaxing Bailey not to ignore his peas in favor of his plums, is surprised too. Zola's used to watching them come and go and rarely fusses.

She glances over at Derek, who shrugs slightly in her direction as if to say he doesn't know what's bothering her either.

"Zo," Derek says gently. "Is there something you're worried about?"

"I don't know her," Zola says quietly.

"The babysitter?"

She nods.

"You haven't met her yet," Derek agrees, "but Mommy did, when you and I were getting ice cream the other day, and Mommy liked her."

"I did," Meredith confirms from the kitchen area.

"And Mommy is a very good judge of character."

Meredith finishes wiping Bailey's face and carries him over on her hip. "She's coming in a few minutes, Zozo, and we're not going to leave until you feel comfortable, okay?"

"What if I don't feel comfortable ever?" Zola challenges.

Okay, why don't they have a chapter in Spock for getting outsmarted by your grade schooler?

Not that she's read Spock … but it's the principle of the thing.

"I think you're going to feel comfortable," Derek says smoothly, smiling at Zola, "and-"

A knock on the door interrupts

Zola clings to her father's neck. "Don't go."

Meredith shifts Bailey, who is toying serenely with her necklace, satisfied by his dinner and unconcerned about – or at least unaware of – his parents' impending departure.

"It's okay, sweetie." Derek gives Zola a reassuring smile, but when he turns to Meredith his eyes are pained.

She gets the sense he's feeling more than Zola's anxiety now – that he's wondering if his frequent flights in and out of her life the last few months have something to do with her uncharacteristically nervous reaction.

And blaming himself.

Meredith opens the door with Bailey on her hip.

"Mrs. Rollins," she greets the older woman with a smile.

The babysitter is thin and wiry, with grey hair in a bun and twinkling blue eyes. There was a sense of fun in those eyes that appealed to Meredith when she was interviewing babysitters. All the potential babysitters were bonded, all experienced, and all kind … this one, though, seemed like she might bring something else.

"I remember this little man." The babysitter smiles at Bailey, then turns to the office chair where their daughter is still sitting on Derek's lap.

"And you must be Zola. Hello there."

"Hi," Zola says softly, apparently not able to squelch her natural friendliness despite her anxiety, but she keeps one hand clenched in Derek's shirt.

Meredith moves a few steps closer to the baby-sitter, feeling she has to explain Zola's reticence. What had she said during their meeting? My daughter loves everyone, she never had any issues in daycare or extracurriculars, she's had plenty of experience being baby-sat.

"She's feeling a little uneasy," Meredith says quietly.

Mrs. Rollins seems utterly unbothered. "I'll just set this bag down, then. It's a bit heavy."

Meredith nods, and watches the babysitter place her quilted handbag down on the table. She pulls out a white cardboard game box and sets it down.

"Twister?" Zola asks doubtfully. Meredith can see she's thinking the babysitter is too old for a game that requires flexibility, but she's too polite to say so.

"Oh, don't be fooled by the grey hair, young lady." Mrs. Rollins winks at Zola, apparently not fooled by her good manners. "I'm a certified yoga instructor with a thousand hours of training. If you're very good," she pauses, "I might even stand on my head for you."

"You can stand on your head?" Zola asks eagerly, lifting her own head from Derek's shoulder.

"Oh, I make a habit of it. Every morning." Mrs. Rollins smiles. "Do you like tumbling?"

"Yeah. I want to take gymnastics really bad but my dad won't let me," Zola says mournfully.

"I'm sitting right here," Derek reminds his daughter with feigned offense, poking her gently in the ribs. "Directly underneath you, in fact. I'm your chair."

"You're not a chair, Daddy," Zola giggles, seeming to forget her sadness from earlier, then pats his arm. "So … can I take gymnastics?"

"No," Derek says.

"See?" Zola turns to Mrs. Rollins.

The older woman lifts her hands innocently. "Well, then I think you have no choice but to take up hula-hooping. It's a good thing I brought one with me."

"Where?" Zola looks back and forth from the babysitter's canvas bag, far too small to hold a hoop, to her hands. "I don't see a hoop."

"Right here." Mrs. Rollins holds out a bright pink nylon bag about the size of a ruler.

Zola's eyes widen. "You squished a hoop in there?"

"I took a hoop apart in there."

"Can I see?"

"Sure." Mrs. Rollins holds out the bag. Zola glances at her father, who nods encouragingly, and she slides off his lap and trots over to the babysitter.

"It's working," Meredith murmurs to Derek in quiet singsong on her way to finish changing in the bedroom. Mrs. Rollins, Zola, and Bailey are all sitting on the carpet in the living room now with pieces of a brightly colored hula hoop spread out around them.

"This one in here?" Zola holds up two pieces.

"Try them and see," the babysitter suggests.

"It fits!"

"Good work, Zola."

"Me too," Bailey says.

Mrs. Rollins hands him the bag with great fanfare and he beams, tugging on the brightly colored fabric.

When Meredith comes back from the bedroom, ready to go, the three of them are deeply engaged in hula architecture and there's no trace of Zola's anxiety from earlier. Even Bailey seems charmed.

"Okay, she's a child whisperer," Meredith says quietly, leaning against Derek as he gives her outfit an appreciative look. "Can we keep her?"

"God, I hope so, but we'll have to see if she's still willing to talk to us after she puts Bailey to bed."

They exchange amused glances.

"Ready?"

She nods.

"Zozo … we're going now, and we'll see you later. Be good for Mrs. Rollins and look out for your brother, sweetie, okay?"

Zola nods at her father's words without looking up.

"We love you," Meredith adds, "both of you."

Zola is still immersed in fitting the pieces of the purple-and-gold hoop together, but she looks up briefly. "Love you too," she says before turning back to the babysitter. "Where does this one go? It has that thing on the end, see?"

"I see. So your piece has that thing; is there another that has something that would fit into that thing?"

They close the door behind them on Zola's crow of delight as she locates the piece herself.

…

"Thank you for planning this," Meredith says as they walk toward … well, she's not sure. It's Derek's plan; she's tucker her hand into his arm and is letting him lead the way. Next time … it's her turn.

"Thank you," he says, "for finding Mrs. Poppins."

Meredith laughs at the well-deserved title, considering Mrs. Rollins's quick bond with their children. Zola fell in love with the Julie Andrews movie last year and begged to watch it so many times in a row during their movie nights that Meredith was finally forced to pretend the Mary Poppins DVD was lost. "She does seem to be able to fit a lot in her bag."

"This way," he says, a hand on her back turning her around the corner.

"Derek … where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"You said dinner," Meredith reminds him. "I'm not really dressed for anything … weird."

She looks down at her outfit; she's wearing a blouse Derek once said he liked, a necklace he gave her.

"You look great," he says, and she smiles. "And besides, you won't be really dressed for long."

If she'd been drinking, she would have spit out her drink.

"Derek!"

"What?" He glances around them; people walk past on the street without looking over.

"You know what." She elbows him with a smile, and he tugs her closer to his side. "Are we almost there?"

"You sound like Zola," he teases her. "And yes, we are almost there. In fact, if you just give me fifteen seconds, we'll be … there," he says with finality.

Meredith his follow his gaze up a column of glittering windows. "We're … at a hotel."

"I know."

"Wait." She turns to him, confused. "We live in a hotel."

He nods.

"So we already have a hotel, but you booked another hotel?"

"We already have a hotel, but I booked another hotel."

"And why is that?"

"That … is because there are children in the hotel we already have."

"There are children in the hotel we already have," she agrees.

"And there's a rubber duck in our bathtub."

"There is also a rubber duck in our bathtub," she agrees again.

"Welcome to our new hotel," he says, "which … doesn't have any of those things."

"Derek?"

"Yeah."

"I like the way you think."

"I thought you might."

…

"I take it back. This hotel is nothing like the other one. They shouldn't even be called the same thing."

"No?"

"No," she confirms. I mean, here … we can leave the door open. No one's coming in."

"No one's coming in," Derek echoes, and she feels his arms slide closer around her.

"And we can light candles," Meredith says reverently, "actual candles, not the pretend ones that can't burn little fingers. Thank you for doing that, by the way."

"Actual candles," Derek murmurs in her ear, pausing to kiss her neck. "No problem."

She shivers slightly at the contact and he wraps her closer. Her hands rest over his; frothy bubbles surround them both as the hot water soothes her muscles. Warm candlelight flickers across the surface of the oversized bathtub.

Just as he predicted … her clothes didn't stay on long.

"You picked a good room."

"I have good taste in rooms."

"You do." She settles back against him. "This tub is huge."

"Maybe it's just happy to see you."

She laughs in spite of herself. "Get it out of your system now, Derek. "

"Or what?"

"Or I might not be so friendly – hey!" she squeaks as bubbles slosh over the side of the tub.

…

"Are you sure you don't want to go to a restaurant?"

"Oh, I'm sure."

Meredith carefully detaches a piece of pizza from the box, then offers a bite to Derek.

"Careful – " he cups a hand underneath the slice to keep hot grease from dripping on her.

… which is helpful, because she's still naked.

"Do you want to go to a restaurant?"

"Not if it means we'd have to get dressed."

"I think it means we'd have to get dressed."

He leans in to kiss her and she laughs against his lips, pulling back to take another bite of pizza and then laughing again at his offended expression.

"Are you choosing pizza over me?"

"No, I'm choosing pizza so I can get enough strength back to choose you again," Meredith says. "Maybe choose you twice … if you're lucky."

"I'm already lucky," he says.

…

"Derek, we don't have to tell Mrs. Rollins that we left our hotel … to go to another hotel, do we?"

She leans against him as they stroll down the sidewalk. It's warm out tonight but the breeze is cool.

"As long as we don't tell her what we did in that hotel."

"I'm not sure even I know what we did," she admits, grinning. "We got pretty creative there."

"Yeah, we did," he agrees, sounding smug – but with good reason.

…

"No, you slide it in like – let me do it," Meredith says, laughing a little. "Are you drunk?"

"Not on alcohol," he grins at her and leans in for one more kiss as the door swings open.

"Oh!" Meredith pulls back. "Mrs. Rollins. Hi. How were the kids?"

"They were great. They're both asleep. I hope you had a nice evening," the babysitter says mildly.

"Oh. Yes," Meredith says hastily. "Thank you. We, um, we had dinner and … went to the ballet."

Derek glances at her curiously and she gives him a helpless look.

"Well, that sounds lovely." Mrs. Rollins smiles at both of them and then leans in toward Meredith. "Your blouse is buttoned wrong, dear."

Meredith flushes deeply.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourselves," the babysitter says cheerfully. "The children were absolutely delightful."

"Our children," Derek says doubtfully, flinching when Meredith swats him.

"Yes, your children. Bailey went down without too much complaining and Zola read me three books before the sandman visited but she's been sleeping for a while."

"Thank you so much," Derek says, gratitude in his voice. He glances at Meredith. "I'm going to go check on them."

She nods.

"You are a gem," Meredith tells the babysitter honestly when they're alone.

"You have my card," she says. "Sometimes a couple just needs to … go to the ballet, and I'm only a phone call away if you do."

"How did you become such a child whisperer?"

"Oh, I've been around children all my life. I spent my twenties in a yoga commune. And I have six of my own."

"Six!" Meredith's eyes widen.

"I … spent my twenties in a yoga commune," Mrs. Rollins repeats, winking. "But they're all grown up now, and sometimes I miss the little ones."

"Well, it seems like you have a gift."

"Some children make it easy." Mrs. Rollins smiles. ""Zola is special, isn't she? So bright and inquisitive and very patient with the little one." She pauses. "And she has quite the knack for poker."

Meredith blushes. "Yeah, um, a family friend taught her back home."

Cristina, I owe you an email … among other things.

"Dr. Grey…"

"Meredith."

"Meredith," she says, "there was something else I wanted to mention to you, if you have a moment?"

"Of course." Meredith glances toward the bedroom; Derek still hasn't emerged. Instinctively she moves with Mrs. Rollins away from the door.

"Just something Zola said when she was getting ready for bed," the babysitter tells her quietly. "She asked me if I thought her parents were happy."

Meredith blinks, confused. "She did?"

The babysitter nods. "I asked her why she was asking and she said, 'because if they're happy then they're definitely not getting a divorce.'"

Meredith's cheeks burn. Oh, Zo.

"I'm glad you told me," she says quietly. "Thank you. We, um, we're not. Getting divorced, I mean. Not at all. But my husband has been working here in DC the last few months and I've been in Seattle with the kids and …"

"Children get confused," Mrs. Rollins says understandingly. "Especially with a big transition."

"I've tried to reassure her." For some reason Meredith needs the babysitter to understand this. "We've talked to her, but …"

"Some things take time."

"I think she misses Seattle," Meredith says tentatively. "We have a … community out there."

"And a family here."

Meredith nods; for some reason, her eyes are tingling.

Tactfully, Mrs. Rollins moves on. "Zola is quite the hostess," she says affectionately. "She invited me to visit her 'real house' in Seattle," she explains with a smile, "but we agreed we'd run it by Mom and Dad first."

"You're welcome anytime," Meredith says, "especially if you can get Zola to open up to you."

Mrs. Rollins smiles. "Now … I don't know what's happening in your marriage and I don't need to know, dear – but perhaps someone to talk to, for Zola, might not be a bad idea?"

Meredith's first instinct is to reject the offer. There's nothing wrong with Zola. She's perfect. She's smart and sweet and loving and funny, kind to her baby brother, she even flosses without complaint. Other than passionate debates about bedtime, reluctance to wear winter coats until mid-December, and unwavering rejection of summer squash, she's given them so little trouble.

No, there's nothing wrong with Zola. She doesn't need counseling.

Then again, there's nothing wrong with her marriage to Derek, either, and they're in marriage counseling. Just because something is good doesn't mean it can't be better. Or easier. Or healthier.

"Yes," she says quietly, "that's something we could … consider."

"A friend of mine actually does holistic child work – you might consider starting there," Mrs. Rollins says mildly. "Play therapy, movement, that kind of thing."

Meredith nods, feeling slightly dazed. "Do you have a name, or …"

"Here, I have a card." The babysitter pauses once Meredith has taken the card. "I understand Dad doesn't approve of gymnastics."

"He's a neurosurgeon," Meredith explains, "and he treated a child gymnast during his fellowship who … he doesn't approve of gymnastics," she summarizes, avoiding the fact that the statistic he used to throw around, gymnastics produces as many injuries as hockey, didn't really make sense to her until too recently. "He's not comfortable with sports that have a risk of cranial or spinal injury," she adds.

"Ah. I understand. But maybe some kind of sport that … doesn't? It could help her socialize, get some exercise … something like dance, or a martial art?"

Meredith nods. "That's a good idea. She's … social, and she went to an after-school program in Seattle with activities and … I was thinking we'd put her in school here," Meredith says, "so she could meet people, even if there's not much of the year left."

She's not sure why she's sharing so much with the babysitter, except that the woman seems interested, has advice and experience, and knows and appreciates Meredith's children.

With a start she wonders if this is what it would be like to have an actual mother.

"You've already been thinking about this," Mrs. Rollins says approvingly and Meredith finds herself flattered. "I think that's a very good idea." She pauses.

"You know someone, don't you."

"It depends on your teaching style," she says, "but my friend is an educational consultant, she works a lot of the transient families coming in and out of the DMV."

Meredith has to stifle a smile; at some point she will get used to that disconcerting acronym.

Mrs. Rollins presses a card into her hand.

"If you need anything else."

"Just a house," Meredith jokes, then smiles at the babysitter's expression. "Your friend is a realtor, isn't she."

"Of course." She passes her another card. "She just found a lovely house for an environmental lobbyist's family. Lots of trees. Twenty-four hour flip," she adds. "She knows things move quickly around here."

Meredith lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Thank you so much," she says. "Really. I … guess you can tell we need a home."

Mrs. Rollins glances toward the bedroom door, which is opening slowly to reveal Derek, and smiles at her. "I can tell you need a house," the babysitter corrects gently. "It's clear you already have a home."

The thing is, it's hard to push past that fear. To build that trust. But if you don't, if you stay anxious about strangers forever, then you don't meet new people. And if you don't meet new people, and you don't let them in – then you could miss out.

Because sometimes that stranger turns out to be exactly who you need to meet … exactly when you need to meet them.

To be continued … with house hunting! So grateful for everyone who's been sticking with me, even when the updates aren't as fast as I'd like. They'll always come, though. I'm really enjoying writing the family a little later in the game, with older kids, and navigating a temporary change in circumstance. Thank you again for being so awesome, all of you! Please review and let me know what you think of this chapter … and what you think you'd like to see in the future!

PS How many of you recognized the dialogue that was obviously in my head from the "there's no baby in the shower" scene back when Zola was a baby?