Kindly Stop for Me

by Chicleeblair

What kind of person flees on the night of her husband's funeral and ends up hitting overwhelmed twelve-thousand miles away to her ex-lover's city? A Meredith Grey type. A "What Happened in San Diego?" fic. Mer/Der Past Meredith Grey/Sadie Harris

9. July 2014 (Part I)

"Uh, so, it's been a while since my psych rotation. If I wanted to try medication, would there be any contraindications for the fetus?"

"Do you want to?"

"What I don't want is to put this...baby, or fetus, or whatever, through anything else. Doesn't seem fair to start ruining its life before it has one. Kid's already in a hostile environment, and I'm sure its epigenetics have been effected. Brain gunk switch might've been flipped already."

"Without knowing, perhaps acknowledging, that you were pregnant, you have put effort into maintaining your health. What would you have done differently, had you tested six weeks ago?

"I would've been on a prenatal. Going to an OB-GYN."

"Who would have?"

"Done blood tests. Prescribed other vitamins, or…something to make up for how I couldn't eat. It wasn't hyperemesis, but Thea…the one I saw…she called it 'concerning' and wrote me the same script that Sadie had."

"Is that significantly different?"

"No… I knew about Bailey at three weeks! I took the vitamins and tried to…to rest more. I wasn't all that sick. It was clockwork the first time. I was afraid to pee in case I found blood on my panties, and I had to constantly. I ended up stealing an obscene amount of tests from the hospital to make sure he was still there."

"And it was an ideal first trimester? Low-key, no stress?"

"Are you trying to be funny? I can't tell. Of course there was stress. Lexie was dead. Mark was dead. I was a first-year attending; we were suing the hospital; I spent most of it dealing with stubborn Shepherds. Derek. The w—his sisters…. I get it, okay? I couldn't be the perfect, but I…I was so happy about it. I'd watch Zola playing, or having a tantrum, which she did every morning for a couple weeks—long story, ends in me firing the day-care director— and I'd have this ridiculous smile before I reminded myself that I wasn't lucky enough. She was a long-shot, and she was enough. I couldn't wait to tell her, even knowing she wouldn't understand."

"And now?"

"Derek wanted two, minimum, so that they'd have someone. As a supposedly-only child, so did I. Hopefully, they will. But there are no guarantees. His sisters' brother is dead. My sister is dead. One of my sisters. I do not want my children to go through that. And I…I'm tired. I don't…I can't guarantee I'd feel it. Do you get how awful that is? For a year, every period I got was the miscarriage all over again—that reminder of how much I wanted it, and that I might never get it. Like watching Derek walk into work holding hands with another woman. Or…no. When there wasn't one, and all I could do was try to do better. It wouldn't be like that, because I do have it, but I imagine losing Bailey at eleven weeks…or even four…I know I would've been heartbroken. But I'm not sure that if….

"I…um…I haven't been crying lately. Haven't felt like it. Like anything much. I thought that was a good thing. I was pretty much leaking any liquid I took in, and hydration, right? I've failed at that since day one. I was hooked up to IV fluids before it became a whole comedic bit—Meredith's crying again, must be thinking about her dead husband—But it stopped. Not the thinking. The crying. Crying happens when you're totally overwhelmed. Not being overwhelmed is good. I haven't been…whelmed. I know what I would feel, but most of the time it's like it's trapped. Behind glass, except it can be permeable. In wisps, not waves. More, with Zo and Bay. With Derek…maybe what I feel about them is stored in a different file. You're right about grief not being simple, because it's not one feeling. The wanting him back part I have. I feel it constantly. But it's not a sharp pain anymore. It's dull because I can only see the sadness. I can't be sad—That scares me, but the fear goes away faster every time.

"And this feeling...this not-feeling thing…. I recognize it. The last time I got close to this…this apathetic, I couldn't get out of the water. So…yeah. I've accepted that I might never know exactly why…what was hormones, or grief, or brain chemistry. But there is a…a fetus that needs me to be more. Derek is dead. All I can do about that is miss him, and…and…it's ridiculous, if that's what got me to this point, but…I don't wanna lose that feeling, too. If I respond to treatment for depression, it won't matter if that caused everything, or nothing; it'll be a net benefit."

"Very well-reasoned."

"I'm generally logical with a pessimistic twist. Take away the underlying emotions, and this is what you get. Um. If the meds break the glass, it could be worse before it gets better, right? Am I going to fall down the well again?"

"You might. You'll also start to see the top."

"I…I think…I used to be able to, but…yeah. Okay. I'm in."

"All right. We'll discuss specifics before you leave today. First, I'd like you to try something. Tell me a good memory that isn't focused on your kids. While you tell me, I want you to try to identify what you felt then. To feel it. Not your feelings in retrospect, but in the moment."

"Uh. That's... Remember the not-feeling?"

"I do."

"Just checking. Does it have to be…a lot of my good things are associated with bad things."

"Tell me the good parts."

"Um…Derek is okay?"

"Derek is okay."

"All right. Well, so, the thing is, I used to…I used to really love the water. This one morning, right after Derek showed me the trailer…musta been the weekend before Addison, but I didn't know that; he took me to one of the ponds. It was so warm, especially for early fall. The water was exactly the same color as the sky, and his eyes. He was talking about a case he'd had in New York, and it was right then, right there that I thought, I could do this for the rest of my life. It didn't come with wondering if he'd want that or thinking I didn't deserve it. it wasn't about the future, really. It was about that moment, treading in still-water. That was the spark of the happily-ever-after hope. That moment."

"Thank you for sharing that."

"Yeah. Sure."

The medication could take up to two weeks to work, Beni had reminded her. And finding the one that worked for her might take some trial and error. If she'd that kind of wanted uncertainty, she'd have gone into oncology. Fine, sometimes one of her patients didn't respond to a recommended dosage, or a culture resulted in switching an antibiotic. Those problems got solved in hours, maybe a couple of days. There was no way to know how many two-week cycles she'd have to go through until something clicked—if something clicked— and she was pleased by the clear blue sky on the morning of July fourth.

Maybe there was something to the fact that she wanted to be?

In spite of having another week left, the day-camp were combining the end of session celebration with the July 4th carnival that would end with a chartered trolley that taking them to the fireworks and back. Meredith suspected that there wouldn't be very many representatives from the youngest contingent at the nine o'clock fireworks, but Zola had insisted that two of her "Sun Daygo bestie friends" were going, and since she'd seen one of them with older siblings, Meredith signed them up.

She was questioning that decision during the downtime between pick-up and the return to school. Bailey had gone down for a post-playground nap surprisingly easily, but her brilliant plan to give herself a break from being asked what time it was, followed up with "so how long is that?" by getting Zola to lie down hadn't played out. The petulant sighs were audible from the living room. Forty minutes in, she caved to the petulant sighs coming from her bedroom and made it into reading time. They'd be out past bedtime, and she hoped that having gotten through a few chapters of Ramona the Pest would keep Zola from freaking out over being put to bed without another story. A woman could dream.

It wasn't a bad way to spend the afternoon, really. They got through a couple of chapters, stopping occasionally to discuss a few of Ramona's more questionable behaviors, before the sounds of Bailey waking up came from the other side of the wall.

"Noooooo," Zola groaned. "Hurry, Momma, put the book up high."

"Let's see what he does, okay? He's been doing better at school."

"Camp," Zola corrected, flopping dramatically back on her pillow.

She's you so often, Derek, Meredith thought as she started to read again; although, she knew if he'd been there, he'd have a counter suggestion.

"She pulled and lifted. She could raise her feet, one at a time, inside her boots, but no matter how she tugged and yanked with her hands she could not lift her precious boots from the mud," Meredith read.

"Mama! Me'm up!" Little footsteps padded down the hall in the opposite direction. "'Ramona grew warmer and warmer. She could never get out of this mud. Kindergarten would start without her.'"

"Hide-seek? Zoie, are you!" he called.

"In here, Bailey-bird!" Meredith responded, imagining him checking behind the couch and under the kitchen table, his own favorite hiding spot.

Zola pressed her forehead against Meredith's shoulder, groaning again.

"You colored in a library book," she reminded her daughter.

"But, so, he should know better."

"He learns from your mistakes, but he has to make his own, too."

She'd made plenty of mistakes for Lexie to learn from, but the opposite was true, too. Her Intern Cabal time might've passed, but a year of training had not made her perfect. That didn't begin to get into the personal side. Had she or Maggie learned anything from each other? Anything, except that Meredith was selfish?

Do you know Maggie thinks that?

Well, Beni, I sexiled her on a porch with her birthfather, and I've been on the other side of his 'new daughter' schtick. It sucks.

"It'd be boring for Ramona to be 'zactly like Beezus," Zola noted.

"Yup. Beezus sets a good example, but they have different experiences, and they're different people."

Zola wrinkled her nose. "Yuck, Beezus is boring."

Meredith remembered having the same opinion, but now she could see the narrative bias. Wasn't there book from the big sister's point-of-view, showing that Ramona's mischief could be frustrating? She'd have to look it up or let Regi do it. Being five years older than the next one might shift Zola's allegiances. Or maybe not. She could've been the Beezus to either—any—of her sisters' Ramona, and she'd never been docile. In fact, hadn't Ellis preferred that? "Don't just stare at me. Did you leave your spunk in Seattle?" Maggie had the spunk and the bookish—

"Find you!" Bailey jumped into the room, and then out and in another few times, thrilled with the skill that was still new for him. Meredith felt Zola move enough to watch her brother with one eye as he climbed onto the bed and crawled up to her. He ducked his head under the arm Meredith was using to hold the novel, giggling when it put him right in her face.

"Well, hello. You want to listen?"

He took advantage of his position, pressing his fingers against her mouth, and almost up her nose—you can pick your friends, you can pick your nose, you can't pick your friends' noses, unless your friends are toddlers…. Real deep thoughts, there, Mer—When he finally lost interest in making her look as much like a pig as possible, Bailey flopped over and let his head settle on her shoulder.

"Book?" he asked, warily.

"It's a library book, and you'd better—mmph." Zola squirmed as though Meredith had cut off her airway when her fingers were barely touching her lips.

"It's a book, bud. We're reading a funny story." A huff came from her side; to her daughter, the risk that Ramona would be eaten by the mud was horror material. To be fair, drowning in wet dirt is my nightmare.

"Bad book."

"No, this is a good book."

Bailey narrowed his eyes at her—there was Derek peering into a microscope—his lips puckered in a considering pout. Then he tugged on her arm, pulling the book toward him.

"Dooooon't," Zola begged, but Meredith very purposefully turned the book over to Bailey. He held it in both hands, staring at the cover.

"Girl." He jabbed a finger at the illustration.

His sister, who'd been told that itemizing the illustrations was part of learning to read, piped up, "That's not what it says."

Meredith gritted her teeth. Zola was trying to help. Losing patience with her wouldn't be a minor transgression. If Zola got upset, it could be re-traumatizing for Bailey, but in Zola's eyes Bailey was invading her time with Momma. That Meredith wasn't angry—that she wanted to allay Bailey's fear so they could return to the simple world of the story—wouldn't register.

"That girl's name is Ramona," she said, placating Zola—why did she have to think to do the better thing? Why wasn't it always that easy?—"She's wearing a yellow raincoat, and shiny red boots. What color is that behind her?"

"Buh-lew."

"That's right."

"Bootfeet."

"You put on Mommy's boots, didn't you? You had big bootfeet."

He giggled.

"You're a silly Bailey. Ramona is silly, too. Can I read to you about the boots?"

He slung his arm back and would've slammed the book into her face if she hadn't caught it. She gently took it from him and flipped to the page where she'd stopped. "Kindergarten would start without her, and she would be left all alone in the mud. Miss Binney would not like her being out here in the mud, when she was supposed to be inside singing the dawnzer song and doing seat work."

"Mommy, remem-ember the hike that we found the puddle?" Zola bounced against her, as thrilled by the memory as she'd been by the mud. "It was so messy. Do you remember mud, Bay? It's wet dirt."

"Zo build a castle?" he asked, and Zola's frown broke Meredith's heart as much as his question. She understood.

"No, bud, it's different than wet sand."

So different. No rolling waves; no promising darkness. It shouldn't have been comforting, but it was, and that'd been much better than knowing the beach used to be.

"Squishy," Bailey offered. "Squish-splash."

"Spish-splash! Daddy used'ta say that. He remembers, Momma!"

Meredith kissed Zola's forehead. Their cartoons featured so many rainy days and mud puddles, and it'd been unusually clear that March. If he did remember going out on a rainy day in Seattle, Derek probably wasn't there. If she closed her eyes, she could be. A rainy Saturday in early fall had cleared up while she was midway through letting the pump yank out Bailey's milk for times she couldn't make it home by bedtime or was called in overnight. Derek had offered to take the kids out on his own until she could catch up. Outside, the air held a scent that she associated with the Pacific Northwest. A mix of petrichor and dirt, of alder and pine. It wasn't quite the smell she associated with this land and Derek; it was her childhood as much as her return. It'd been what had kept her from shoving Derek into the puddle. She could feel that irritation, and the amusement that followed it. The memory wasn't a diorama walled off on all sides, and it was such a relief.

"Daddy let you play with mud, so Daddy got to do bath time," she said, forcing herself to wrench her eyes open.

"That's a fair way," Zola judged.

"Squishy way," Bailey added. "More bootfeet?"

She continued reading, and as brave sixth-grader Henry Huggins pulled Ramona from the mud, Bailey lost interest. He slid down, and a second later, the toy vehicles were clicking and crashing in the living room.

"Phew," Zola sighed. "Hey. Mommy? Why's he not afraid of trucks? And cars? A truck hit Daddy's car, and you couldn't fix him."

"It did….I don't know." Why am I not afraid of ferryboats? "We never know how the brain is going to process something."

"Daddy coulda figured it out. Maybe so, I'll do it when I'm bigger."

"That sounds like a great idea. Ready to finish the chapter?"

"Uh-huh. How long until we leave for the camp party?"

Her answer was an hour and a half, and yet they still arrived forty-minutes after the carnival's official start time. She'd been a doctor who lived an hour from the hospital, but apparently the life-or-death thing had a lot to do with her ability to get somewhere on time. Bailey had decided that having Momma take his clothes off for a diaper change meant he didn't have to put them back on, leading her on a merry chase through the apartment. Having already changed herself into a dress with sequined fireworks, Zola had stood in Bailey's doorway, holding his red, white, and blue striped polo, and asking how long it would take to get there every time they passed.

Meredith's initial feeling that this outing would be a mistake seemed to be about to be confirmed in the school parking lot. Zola had blithely ignored her instruction to stand next to the car until she had their bags and stroller out. Meredith was going to order Zola back into the car when she saw her being given a reciprocal tackle-hug by one of the other preschoolers. Judging by the way he vibrated with excitement at the sight of the bouncy castle, Bailey would have mutinied if she'd made that decision.

She managed to set them up at one of the picnic tables. Bailey demonstrated an un-before seen love for potato salad, swallowing it as fast as he could shovel it in his mouth. Ensuring he didn't choke took more concentration than usual, and Zola took advantage.

"Mommy, I'm done, Libby's gettin' face paint; I'm going to be in line with her. Loveyoubye"

"Hey, whoa, Zo there's half a…hotdog." Meredith gave up, Zola was halfway across the distance to the table where an older student was set up with a face-paint kit. At a second glance, she realized the student was her friend from the front of the school, and her helper was the brother who'd taken Bailey through the egg hunt. The boy said something that made his sister throw her arm over his shoulder. Something in her movements was more maternal than sororal. The way she talked, too, made Meredith think she'd felt responsible for him. It pissed her off that the system put them in a situation that could cause that.

Hey, pissed was a feeling.

"How about Zo never has to be more than a big sister to you?" she said to Bailey. He was eyeing the food tables. "Also, no. You've had enough, bud." Having had her own plate having been cleaned by her toddler, she picked up the leftover hotdog and bit into it.

"The red stuff is ketchup, you know."

It took two seconds for Meredith to look around for any children with fine-motor skills, and then flip Fatima off, but the satisfaction was worth so much more.

"Shut up," she added, for good measure. "'M'better." She swallowed. "That part, anyway."

"And the rest?"

"Beni wrote me a script. For…. Psych stuff." If you can't say it, you're not ready to do it! "Antidepressants. I wasn't really moving forward. It's only been three months, but…. It has been three months. And our…we didn't really have an anniversary, but we met at the start of my internship. July first. Uh, that is, we had our first encounter on the thirtieth but in terms of, like, knowing his name…. Anyway, I didn't…I kind of freaked myself out with how much I felt it, but I didn't feel it….I can't explain it right."

"So, don't. You don't have to. There are no rules here."

"Like there are rules for the game I just lost?"

"Agh! Screw you, Grey. And don't deflect. I will always see it."

"We're surrounded by touchy-feelingsy psych people, Bay," she pretended to whisper in his ear. He got up on his knees and made whooshing noises against hers. She tightened the arm around his waist. "I get that there aren't rules. For one of the few times in my life, I wish there were."

"Fati!" Zola shouted, running back from the face-painting table. "Are you going to the Big Bay Boom with us?"

"Bay Boom?" Bailey repeated. "Me'm Bay."

"The Sun Daygo Bay, not you Bay," Zola corrected, clearly unimpressed with his deduction.

"We're having some people over to watch from our place. You're more than welcome," Fati added, in Meredith's direction.

"That's okay," Zola responded. "My friends are going on the trolley, so we're gonna go with them. Mommy, can I do the bounce house?"

"You just ate, Zo."

"But, um, not lots. You ate half my hotdog."

"Excuse me?"

"You did."

"You left that hotdog."

"I coulda eaten it when I came back."

"'Could' is absolutely the operative word there— I am arguing with a four-year-old. Go." Zola took off again. Next to the table, Bailey had created a game where he crouched and then sprang up, throwing his arms in the air repeatedly chanting, "Bay BOOM! Bay BOOM!"

In Meredith's estimation, the bar for a successful night fell to no one hurls.

A little under two hours later, she was glad she hadn't taken on finding somewhere to watch the fireworks herself; although, she wouldn't have minded being in Sadie and Fatimah's beach-house, where she could've found a dark room and hidden from the massive amount of humans crowding the best viewing spots.

Once they unloaded from the trolley, Zola acted like getting into the stroller was a great imposition, until she saw both her friends being loaded into similar contraptions. Meredith dutifully followed her pointing to line up the chariots, shared a look with the other parents, and they aimed for the small area the school had reserved while the three little aristocrats continued a conversation, interrupted occasionally by an exclamation of "Bay BOOM," from the young lord behind Lady Zola.

With the collection of strollers, they managed to claim front row viewing. Meredith put on the brakes and moved to the side to quickly crouch by the stroller.

"B, Z look at me."

"Bay Boom, Mama, me'm Bay!"

"You believe this is all for you, huh? Hey, no poking."

"Mommy, he's wrong, though."

"He's little, not hurting anyone, and it makes him happy. Let's let that be okay."

"Okay, if you want him to think wrong things."

"Glad we cleared that up. This is gonna be cool, but it'll be loud. Nothing bad is going to happen. It's all lights and noises."

"Yeah, you read me about fireworks for days."

"But not our little book banner. I'm going to get you out so you can see when it starts, okay?"

"Mmhmm." Zola was already turning away.

"Zola Grey, look my way." She got the most parent-humoring smile she'd ever gotten, and it was objectively adorable. "I love you."

"I know."

"Thank you, Han Zolo." Bailey giggled, and she reached into the stroller to tickle him. "Is that so funny?"

"Funny, funny! BOOM!" He smacked the top of the stroller again. She stood up, leaving him to his game and bumped into the person standing beside them.

"Sorry!" the girl exclaimed, and Meredith waved it off.

"I wasn't looking, Cal. No worries." She moved behind the stroller and leaned on the pushbar. "Hey, how far apart are you and your youngest brother, again? The one who was helping you tonight?"

"Four years."

"Yeah? How'd your mom tell you he was coming, do you remember?"

"Uh, I think she just told me. I was home with her all the time, so I probably asled. I was really excited. I'd been pretending my dolls were a little brother or sister for ages. So, uh. Are you…? They're getting another sibling?"

"Seems that way."

"Congratulations!"

"Oh. Thank you." This was a congratulations thing, wasn't it? To her It'd just been a weird thing, and her friends—all two of them—were taking her cues.

"BOOM! BOOM! BAY BOOM!" Handprints appeared on the stroller awning where Bailey was pressing on it. Meredith pushed back, and he squealed.

Cal laughed. "He's stoked. These things are pretty cool. I was here two years ago. My foster family was kind of…they sucked, but they had money, so we were on one of the boat things and then…. Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?"

"Oh, man." Cal had her phone out of her pocket immediately. "The 2012 Boom. There was an error with a computer file, or something, and—look." She held her phone up to show Meredith a YouTube video of what looked like multiple bombs going off. Meredith's mind went to Dylan, pieces of Dylan on her skin; her ear ringing before her head even hit the floor…. "All four barges went off. Seventeen minutes of fireworks in, like, fifteen seconds. It was awesome."

"Was…." Meredith swallowed. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No. I mean, last year's the fireworks were given to the city free, so, I guess the company?"

"Mmm. That's why it hasn't happened in Seattle. No casualties."

Cal gave her a sideways look, but then her phone chimed, and she stayed engrossed in it until the show was announced

"Momma?" Zola's voice was uncertain, and Meredith swung around to her.

"It's okay, baby, it's just like the PA at the hospital." She lifted Zola up, and Bailey raised his arms again. Instead of a BOOM, this came with a whimper. "Hold on, B."

She set Zola on her feet and was immediately grabbed around the waist. She scooped him up, and went for Zola again, but the bodies around her had shifted, crowding them too much for her to get low enough to pick her up with one arm. A blast of music blared from the loudspeaker. Zola screamed.

Crap. "It's okay, Zo," she said, not even sure the girl could hear her. If Derek was here, we'd have this. Two adults, two kids, and she was supposed to do it with three? A hand touched her shoulder. She jerked around to see Cal holding her arms out. She gestured to Bailey. With both desperation and relief, Meredith handed him over and reached for Zola.

"There. Is that better, sweetie?"

Zola nodded; her arms looped around Meredith's neck. The first rocket blasted into the air. She flinched. and Meredith looked over to Bailey. He was clapping, thrilled by the light and noise he thought was for him. She reached to take him anyway. Cal gave her a you sure? look, but with the rhythm of the fireworks sounding a bit too much like gunshots for Meredith's liking, she needed them both in her arms.

Just pretty rockets, she thought toward the fetus that would be receiving a part of every adrenaline burst she felt, and maybe a little to herself. He's dead, but he didn't die then.

A series of orange flowers bloomed above them, and Zola loosened her hold slightly. Before much longer, she was sitting on Meredith's hip, the fingers of one hand hovering by her mouth. Meredith could see how technically beautiful the fireworks were, but in her opinion, the true beauty of the bursts of light in the darkness was seeing it reflected on her kids' faces.

MEREDITH GREY: [ ]

a thing

SADIE HARRIS: 🎆

MEREDITH GREY: did you see the one…

SADIE HARRIS: that looked like a dong? absolutely.

MEREDITH GREY: just checking.

seeing things feels like the next stop on this crazy train.

SADIE HARRIS: ur not crazy death

If there was anyone whose opinion she trusted on "crazy,"—beyond Beni, who was very big on what language you use for this diagnosis is your choice—it should've been Sadie. But Meredith wasn't sure she could speak to this type of crazy. The zombie-Derek sex dreams were becoming more frequent. If they didn't signal that she was losing her grip on sanity, they would be the cause of it.

She had had a few dead-Lexie dreams right after that anniversary; a dream where she'd chased a shadow of her sister and a bloody trail through the halls of the hospital, hearing howling all around her, and finding only Derek's sisters behind every door she opened. The night after she'd told Fatimah the whole horror story to, Lexie had actually appeared. Meredith's mind came up with snips of audio from every part of her waking life but didn't retain what Lexie told her. All she knew was that when she woke her thoughts weren't of worms and wolves. It helped her hope Lexie was at peace, the same way she believed Ellis was.

Dead-Derek had spoken, but zombie-Derek—was it a zombie if it didn't eat flesh? His—its mouth was sewn shut; there was wiggle room there—didn't —again, mouth sewn shut—for which she was incredibly grateful. It kept the thing out of her mind during the day, and out of most of her memories. Derek spoke. Derek spoke a lot. In more than one dream, the silence clued her into something being wrong.

She regretted hating the almost-normal dreams where Derek didn't know he was dead. Those, she felt like she could deal with. Dream-her could've learned to close her eyes and appreciate that she was shuddering from something that felt good. She could wake up and stay in bed, seeing to a problem she understood. She didn't miss wandering around cemeteries and confronting decay, either. She didn't want to go back to barely being able to eat without retching.

Any of them would be better than the fucked-up mix of gagging and gagging for it that left her trembling in the ensuite, still able to feel skin sloughing off his fingers, making her writhe in a disgust that belonged in one of the kids' books of opposites on the recto with "pleasure" on the verso. In the moments between waking and remembering the cold, and misery, and maggots, she could feel it. She was used to desire triggering arousal, but it happened the other way around. While she was pregnant with Bailey, she'd been up for it in situations that surprised her. It was all increased vaginal blood flow, or whatever, but it'd seemed like her body was letting her reveal in the excitement she wouldn't give into on her own. The dreams were a perversion of that. A perversion of them. Worst of all, they were starting to incorporate those memories, starting with moments she recognized from on-call rooms and his office, his hands on her side, his thumbs tracing the curve no one else would've noticed. Something in her subconscious recognized the connection and was trying to manage without engaging her conscious mind. Maybe the depression fog only lifted enough for it to get through while she slept. Maybe her conscious mind had passed it on because there was no indication that it would be managed. Derek was dead, and she hadn't touched herself in months, because she hadn't felt the need, and around went the cycle.

Cycles could be broken.

Maybe if she forced her waking mind to translate physical arousal into desire, her subconscious would calm the hell down. Sure, there were times where arousal couldn't be forced, and no amount of touching took her past I like that. She wasn't prone to them, was the thing. She wouldn't say she had an on-switch, necessarily, but Derek might have.

He'd had patience, yeah. He'd put the effort in if she wasn't already obviously trying to get something pressed, preferably, rubbing against her by the time he ventured downward. It was just a rarity for it to take more than an nominal amount of time to get her turned on, and it wasn't like it'd ever felt bad having him working his fingers against her until her—historically, boozed-up if arousal was the issue—brain started the mechanisms that made I like that became need-need-need, and dry was soaking, and she was bucking with every touch. Being aware of that moment could be pretty damn fantastic, almost as much of a relief as the release that followed.

She couldn't try for it in the bed. She'd ended too many of the dreams there, in a haze of want and wretchedness; knowing where she was, but not how to wake up. Instead, she put the kids in their rooms for the night and locked the ensuite. The bathtub wasn't the deep, claw-legged beauty from her old house, or the heavily augmented jacuzzi Derek had put into their bathroom for her. It was simple. No associations. No handheld showerhead, either. This was the first place in her adult life she hadn't bothered putting one in. Maybe she would. She had a secondary hope that if she could make herself feel this, it would help her move forward. If she could trick her body into flooding her brain with pleasure, maybe it would clear the way for other feelings to break through.

She let the water build up a few inches before opening the drain. This was not the time for dealing with the face-underwater shit. Starting slowly with her fingers gave her nothing, not even the burn of too-much, too-fast. Not the echo from the good-natured fumbling of a guy who couldn't find her clit with a light on but managed to engage enough nerve endings that she didn't need to intercede, yet. She pressed down harder and harder, starting to think she was digging for something that had been buried with Derek, and the dreams were the only way she could get there. Maybe the numbness taking her over really was all-encompassing. It could've entrapped desire long before envy, before sympathy, before sadness; when would she have noticed?

Then between one frustrated circle to the next, she could feel it. The nebulous bliss was more than she'd expected; maybe more than she could've. She had to let up as the pressure that hadn't been enough became too much, but she also wanted to keep going, harder, faster, pushing through too much until it engulfed her.

This might not have to be a mental thing at all. She'd never gone as long without at least grinding one out to try to relax herself into sleep in her adult life, and the last time she'd been pregnant there'd been times where Derek had barely gotten his fingers going against her clit, and she'd come hard enough to need time before starting again, which, also not par for her course. But there was more going on with pregnancy-sex than basic libido satisfaction; there were biological imperatives to keep her partner engaged and preparing her for an increase in touch and intimacy. Usually, she'd needed him inside her more than she'd cared that she couldn't bear having him touching the glans of her clit. She might've been the physically flexible one, but he could twist the situation into exactly what was needed. In her experience, people with a dick rarely minded having the focus shifted to it, but he'd been uncannily able to stop the hand she was using to jerk him off or tug her hair before she realized she was ready to have him back between her legs.

Her breathe was coming low and quick, and she felt the low level of the water lapping at her breasts, her hair tickling the back of her neck; She moved her hand. Her knees were bent, and letting water hit her vulva brought on anticipation that made her breath rushed out of her like she hadn't ever properly emptied her lungs. She pushed up, giving the edge of the spray access to the top of her clit. Oh, yeah, that was nice. Slowly, she opened her legs.

That's it, Mer. Easy.

She didn't care if hearing voices was a sign of crazy; hearing him was what she was going to need for this after weeks of a silent Derek being the sign that something was horribly, horrifyingly wrong.

She slid up and down, pulling her clit in and out of the spray until a hard spasm of pleasure shot through her. Her hands went immediately to her breasts, and her panting breaths became small, low moans.

You're starting to feel so good, huh?

Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. She stopped sliding and let her legs fall fully apart, and the boost in intensity made her pulse pound in her ears. Oh, fuck there it is, already so close, Derek,….Derek is dead. Derek is dead, and decayed, and—No! She stopped, jerking her mind out of the thought, and her vulva away from the spray, twisting to the side with a long low groan of disappointment. She didn't let herself start again until the sensation of being touched by a corpse ebbed. Necrophilia, definitely not my kink, she thought, almost deliriously.

Maybe she wasn't ready for this.

She wanted it. She wanted fast so hard the aftershocks hurt. She wanted the way he'd reposition and fill her in as few movements as possible; her moans of relief interspersed with occasional whimpers from brushes against her hypersensitive glans, until those were moans too. She wanted him tracing shapes on her thighs; seeming to touch exactly where she needed it at exactly that second, taking wherever she was to where she needed to be to mount him.

She wanted. She wanted. She wanted this, more, right there, right there, harder, hard—hard cold dirt no no no oh fuckity fuck. FUCK.

Her body hated her, and her clit was throbbing, the walls of her vagina contracting, so close to release that she'd thought she'd finish as she pulled away; almost, almost placing the single finger it would take to rub herself through no matter what her mind was doing— choking cold dead—She clamped her legs shut again unable to stop from clenching her pelvic floor muscles just to have something done with the pressure, and every squeeze felt like it might send her over. She couldn't do it again, couldn't stop again.

We'll get you there, Mer. You're being so patient, and it's going to pay off. It'll be so, so worth it. Because you are alive, and that beautiful brain of yours is working and your body is working, and when you come that's when you're the most alive, you feel so much everywhere. I see it, the way you feel it all through you from the tips of your toes to your hair. Imagine my hands in your hair while you're coming, you love that don't you?

Yeah. I do. mmm I really really do

Hold onto that baby, hold onto all the places you like my hands you when you come. All the different places I feel you stretching and clenching and spasming. Open your legs, now. let the water touch you. Feel how warm that is? Listen, hear yourself breathing; hear your heart beating, racing, isn't it? You're alive. Everything that feels so good, it's because of you.

One more. One more try, and then this would have to be a failed experiment, and please, hopefully, one of the sleeping pills she had left would knock her out even with the hot, pulsing need she'd stupidly woken between her—oh, crap. crap crap crap, so good feels so good yes, yes. Derek. let me come, please, I'm having your baby for fuck's sake—I am I'm having we're there's gonna be a could be—I'm pregnant and it's hormones just hor-hor—ohhh yes, yes, you stupid big damn hero with your stupidly resilient sper—ah there there there there—she was almost bent in half, her hand wrapped around the faucet to aim the water directly at the nub of her clit, straining to hold her pelvis up as she opened her legs to rub the v of her fingers around it pressing harder harder while she chased the orgasm that was refusing to do anything but build and retreat build build and retreat until she was rocking under the full power of the water her arm pressed against her mouth to stifle her groans and even the press of her teeth against the skin felt good anything that brought more sensation was prefect. She moaned as a long ripple of pleasure that had to be it it it jerked her out of place.

Derek would've pinned her with his legs while he kneaded her breasts, his cock pulsing against her leg until she was writhing and begged him to hold her still. Propping her on his bent legs, sliding into her,filling her, his girth pushing her clit even closer to the pounding warm wet, one arm bracing her middle and the fingers of his other hand gently tugging the hood of her engorged clit back so the warm warm wet warm— oh oh that's going going going gonna be so strong oh oh OH I need need it to end never end never stop yes yes YES yesyesyesyesfuckfuckfuckfuckmefuckmeDerekDerekDer ahahahthere fuckblasting lemmego ohthere'smoremoremore DerekDerekDerek—

Her tailbone smacked the porcelain of the tub as her arced back relaxed, and she almost cracked her head against it. Her legs jerked, muscles spasming and twitching, and she was she was alive, so so much happening, water lapping against her skin, her hair floating tips touching her arms, and chest, and shoulders; and it all felt so good and loose and

and for the first time in days, weeks? she was crying, sobbing, weeping.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Once, it'd been the knowledge that the connection she was desperate for wasn't there with George, sweet, gentle George who was so willing, so determined to get her off, and just wasn't Derek. She'd believed she'd never have Derek again, but it hadn't been final. Beliefs weren't always facts.

The moment he'd entered her at the prom, or maybe the moment his lips crashed against hers, she'd realized that somewhere something in her knew it would happen. She wasn't sure he'd ever realized she came twice then; the first within breaths of that first stroke, her body demanding a controlled release off the top of everything that'd been building for six months before it could hold more, arcing her whole body closer to him, and then there was the more, the full-on explosion.

Now, there was literally no way she'd ever have Derek again. It felt wrong that her body was still capable of reaching that point, feeling that pleasure. She didn't want it, wanted to stay dead down there, and yet her leg muscles were still twitching, her body warm and floppy, and it would take two fingers less than a minute to flick-stroke-rub her into another state of frantic desire, and she did want, and it was all wrong, all confusing, and all she wanted was Derek.

It wasn't like she hadn't been taking care of it on her own for months at a time over the past year; whatever implement she used to do it; whether or not he was directing her from a speaker or a screen. But she'd also known it was a stopgap. For the brief time she thought they'd be over she'd been too busy and angry to consider…okay, she'd possibly expected at least one round of angry sex. The next time was always around the corner, wherever she and Derek stood. Until now.

She wasn't ready. Knowing she could get past the dreams was a good sign, a data point, but she wasn't ready. She got out of the tub, dried her hair, and went to bed.

Zombie-Derek wasn't anywhere in her dreams. She woke up with the light in the morning.

The next night, she didn't want to take the chance that it wasn't what had let her sleep soundly. And if it started feeling better after a few days? If it became something she didn't exactly hate? If she started drawing it out even if the only thing in her head was a memory of Derek alternating pumping his fingers in and out of her; his thumb circling her, pressed as hard as he could; her voice getting hoarse from screaming? Licking her until fireworks burst behind her eyelids, laughing as she swore at him for stopping, and then finally-finally-please-finally letting her come so hard for so long that she was sure nothing would ever feel as incredible?

If there were times when she let herself go again and again until she could only tolerate her pajama pants afterward, not even the granny panties that barely touched her?

If she started playing with temperature, running icy water over her fingers before she started flicking her clit, testing a brain trained to take a dare to punish her with disturbing images; and eventually overpowering them with memories that were far more real to her than the dreams—Derek dragging an ice cube back and forth over her clit, teasing the opening of her vagina with freezing fingers, and then swirling ice around her nipples while the rest of her skin was burning, and the molten heat erupted inside her—those were good signs, right? Signs that the numbness was letting up. He'd been dead for more than three months; she wouldn't judge anyone else for wanting a flesh-and-blood partner at that point. Derek sure as hell hadn't minded that sometimes she just had to take care of things.

So why was it that the less her dreams repulsed her, the more she disgusted herself?

Babies, babies everywhere, and I cannot fucking think.

There absolutely had to have been a baby boom in San Diego. There was no way there had been this many around over the past four months. Babies at the beach. Babies at the pharmacy. Babies in the pickup line.

So. Many. Babies.

Babies like the one in the line at the supermarket that made her smile, and then realize she was smiling, and why that was weird. Fine, she wasn't a smiley person, but babies, and right, it was weird because Derek died, and she'd stopped smiling, stopped feeling, but she'd felt about babies, right? Well, no, she hadn't and that'd freaked her out because who didn't smile at babies? Her mother. She didn't want to be her mother. She didn't. Not lately. She smiled at the baby on the beach, and another in a bucket swing at the pink The beach baby's red hair matched her mother's, and thought of how often they'd debated whose genes they wanted their kids to inherit in which combination, and that now they had another to argue over, except there was no they, no we, there was just her. Her mother would not have imagined that the red-haired mother saw her tear up, and maybe noticed her mismatched—perfectly matched—kids and thought she understood, but she didn't.

This wasn't an infertility issue. It was Shepherd fertility. Definitely nothing to do with her. She was a hostile environment. It was his Shepherd, evolution chosen, Irish Catholic, four sisters, nineteen niblings (twenty. Were there more almosts?), immortal jizz.—Thanks, Sadie—It'd done them absolutely zero good during all the fertility treatments, with her doing everything possible to ensure it got where it needed to go, thrusting her legs in the air while she was still reeling, clenching them together when that small amount of friction was almost too much, coming down from really strong orgasms, hoping they did play some role in this whole thing, even when she'd always been adamant that men who insisted they must were just bitter. She had no way of knowing if she'd done anything differently the times she did conceive, but if it was the final time, she'd ended up on the bed, legs akimbo, barely able to breathe, let alone think.

Now she was breaths away from hysterics of some kind on a bright, bright summer day in San Diego. And there were babies everywhere.

During her fertility treatments she'd been overly aware of pregnant women, scrutinizing them, trying to figure out what she needed to do better, but there hadn't been anything. It'd been luck, a gamble. She'd never been more aware of that than she was when started covering shifts on OB. Initially, it was a desperation thing. She'd needed the hours after Derek quietly took her off his service, and she hadn't been able to sit in the house very long with Zola everywhere and not there. She'd understood how the world worked. If you lost someone, you didn't get them back. Derek hoped, and, damn him, it was contagious, but Derek alaso believed, and that she couldn't do. She hadn't been able to stop imagining a future where their baby, their Zola, was given to another set of parents. Derek would rightly blame her; it would be her fault. Her fault for never ditching the daddy issues. For letting Richard manipulate her time and again, because she cared, because she was guilty, because it was always her fault. Because she did family wrong. Because she was right all along about her destiny, and her castles-in-the-air wouldn't change that.

OB was only tangentially about babies, but it was a reminder that hundreds of people had them, and the ones who gave birth to them were not always their mothers. She could be a link in putting other people's families together, even if her own was falling apart.

She'd thought that being surrounded by the miracle of life—which wasn't all medicine about that?—might help her believe in something, even if it was just something she could beg, bargain, and plead with. Something to curse, to blame. What happened was basically the opposite; and she could trace it to one case. One patient, a fourteen-year-old girl who had barely gotten her period and conceived on her first time with her fourteen-year-old boyfriend, and they'd used a freaking condom.

"The baby you get is the baby you're supposed to have," one of the baby's moms—because all told there were four involved: the baby's, Phoebe, and Phoebe's mother, who seemed to have done nothing wrong except work late and not thought to put her fourteen-year-old on the Pill—said to Meredith, while Phoebe was being prepped for a C-section. Planned. Her pelvis was simply too small. "That's what they say. And I just wonder…. Was there really not a way to give us this baby some other way? To not put a kid through this, because she genuinely didn't understand what was happening until she no longer had a choice? If she had, abortion would've been traumatic enough!"

Meredith had thought of Zola because she was always thinking of Zola. Zola couldn't have come to them any other way, as much as she wished for earlier, easier, faster. Zola was the "why" for the months of single lines, and the side-effect that was one of the few that could've made her stop using the meds. But if Zola was meant to be theirs, and she was, she was, then would it have mattered if she'd had a sibling, or one on the way? Wouldn't they have still known that she was meant to be theirs?

The other adoptive mom was right; it still felt like cruelty to someone; her birthmother; a sibling who didn't understand where the baby had gone; a country where she might've done something great. Her birthmother was not fourteen; their information was limited, but it said she was twenty-four.

She could've been, though. Might as well have been this kid on the OR table talking about Pokémon with her boyfriend—and there was another mom, the boyfriend's, and two dads in the waiting room. These kids had family, and maybe this would just be something that happened, and maybe it would put them on the best possible path, but maybe not.

There were so many kids out there who needed homes, and parents who wanted to conceive because it was a biological imperative, and it didn't make sense; why not make infertile humans compelled to adopt? Because people weren't made, they were alive, and life found a way. Life found a damned way, and it'd found its way in her. During the last nights, last days, last times, possibly the last time. Derek had been dead, and yet he decreed, let's have more, he put that out in the universe, and boom. Last conversation. Last words. Last wish.

People were going to call it that. His last wish, last gift, and it was all close, so close, to "the lord giveth, and the lord taketh away." The first time she heard something like that she was going to scream. Crazy scream in the face of whoever made it sound like some deity gave her a baby—a pregnancy, because it wasn't a guarantee—in her husband's place. That she was getting him back, in a way. That this was him looking out for her. She would absolutely lose what she had left of her damned mind. Because it almost felt plausible. Everything Derek had said when Maggie showed up, about wanting her to have the big, crazy, messy family he had? If he'd been given a wish from the god genie, or whatever the crap? Sure. Maybe.

Q: Did Derek have to die to make this happen?

A: Well, yes, because you don't have influence with the heavens before that..

Q: In summary: he had to die for the kid to exist?

A: Part of The Plan.

Q: Except, if he was the one requisitioning the fetus, or whatever, then said fetus wasn't part of The Plan.

A: Everything is in The Plan.

Q: So, this fetus is in The Plan, and Derek had nothing to do with it. Presumably, if there is A Plan, there's some other reason he died. A reason that puts everyone he could've saved in the future at risk; along with everyone I could be saving, now. Which is good, because "he sent you to us" is going to sound like "he died for you" to any kid and that's not fair. Whatever the big reason was, "curious" is not in my wheelhouse currently. Don't really care. Maybe because my husband died, and if there is some Almighty Chief of Humanity out there, I have a complaint to file with the board.

Yeah, no. Logic ruled that out. She'd take, it's an energy thing we don't understand yet, maybe, but she was pretty much on Team Random. She reserved the right to reconsider. She'd never change her mind when it came to the fact that no child should feel like they'd been swapped for the father they've never met. And…if there was a baby. If, big if. A child. There would come a point where she could not imagine life without them. But. If she'd been given the choice: have a third child, or lose Derek, forever?

Eventually, she knew, that'd be a judgement she couldn't make. If it'd been presented with Zola or Bailey on one side, in March, it would've been an impossible choice, and a stupid hypothetical. She'd seen parental sacrifices at the hospital. Those were choices you couldn't make until you had to make them, and it wasn't usually the father on the line. If Derek were alive, and in twenty-five weeks it'd be her or the baby, she knew what she'd tell him to do. But that wasn't her situation. What-ifs didn't matter. S

he hadn't been given a choice. Derek was dead, and she was pregnant. What got her. What killed her, except it didn't, because she was alive, alive, so very freaking alive, was that if anyone in his family thought she was considering termination, they'd call her out on not honoring his wishes, when they were far more guilty of that. Derek would care about this more than he'd cared about what happened to his body. She also knew he wouldn't judge her. She would. First of all, the few items on her pro list sounded certifiable. She had the resources, she was physically healthy, she had the time. I needed to know if I was crying because my husband died, or if it was just hormones? I'd like to mourn my husband without feeling like a bad mother for doing it. I don't want to have a secret baby like my mother did. Come on. As difficult as having three would be, it wasn't a real reason. Not for her. She (had?) wanted another baby.

She'd put that into the world before his unexpected suggestion. In November, she and Callie had been over, watching the girls play with Zola's toy kitchen while Bailey stacked blocks nearby.

"Did…?" Callie had flinched. "Do you guys want more?"

"You had it the first time."

"Nah. He's not going to be in D.C. forever."

"He'll have NIH Brain Mapping Initiative on his resumé. You think he'll be cooling his heels in Seattle, after that? No. Even if…. We can be okay. But another baby? I can't do that alone."

"You wouldn't be alone. I understand what you mean, but you wouldn't be."

Meredith had smiled at her. "Mom had friends. Not as cool as mine, obviously, but friends. While she was having flashbacks, I filled in for all of them; there was no one to whom she felt close enough to tell the truth. The thing is, we're in a profession where either you find your place and stay there, or you get wooed away. And no one knows what else will happen. Look at Derek and Mark.

"When we moved to Boston most of her East Coast friends hadn't had kids yet. They arranged my birthday parties and took me to the movies. I called them Auntie and Uncle. And by the time I turned thirteen they'd all either left, or had their own kids, or they'd buy me Cokes in the cafeteria, but couldn't stand Mom anymore, so that was it. There's a reason I didn't think Richard was more than another friend she'd used up."

"You don't use us up."

"Don't I?" Meredith had sighed and shook her head. "Maybe not. I know I'm not the reason everyone leaves. But they do. Besides, I used…I always wanted two, because then they're not alone, but I would've been okay with one. Especially if I was on my own."

"You used to want two?" Callie had pointed two fingers at Bailey and Zola. "Meaning, you now want…?"

"I…don't want five. I don't know. I wouldn't mind doing it again. I missed so much of Zo's babyhood, and it's not that I'd be against adopting again if…but I'd want to wait for that. Until an older kid would fit in. Infant adoption is necessary, but there are so many older kids out there. Having another one…it's sexist, and another boy would be great, because a kid is a kid, but…. There's this part of me…. It's stupid."

"So?"

"I want Zola to have a sister…," she admitted. "I'm sure it's just because I keep having surprise sisters show up."

"My sister and I aren't super close. Not like you and Little Grey were, because I was a weirdo loner kid, but it wasn't bad. I don't know if it was any different than having a brother."

Meredith had gotten stuck for a beat on like you and Little Grey were. "I think Derek wanted more than two, ideally, and I think that's why. He for sure doesn't get along with all of his sisters, and the more you have, the more likely it is that everyone has someone. These two—" She'd nodded at Zola and Bailey. "— they get along so well. I'd hate for someone to get shut out because of gender, or age, or whatever. Zola has Sof. Friends can be as good as sisters."

"Okay, but, them aside, would you do the baby thing again? Not gonna lie, I was fine with the idea of Arizona carrying, but I was looking forward to newborn mush. You know how for the first three months or so—and longer for Sof, since she was a premie—they're just kind of floppy, and cuddly, and they stay where you put them? I was all in for that."

"I like them more once their personalities start showing. When they're tiny, curious people, who look at you like everything you say is a revelation, even though they don't understand words yet. I…I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

She'd told Derek he was crazy. She'd thought he was, to suggest having more, in that moment, like it was a simple decision for them. She had. She'd barely had time to think about it that last day, because she'd gone from there, to a plane crash, to worrying about him, to knowing something was wrong, to police cars in front of her house. She might've wanted to wait, to make sure they were okay. To make sure he wasn't going to get restless again and leave her alone with three kids. She hadn't gotten that choice. She hadn't gotten a choice. She didn't have a choice. If he'd been there, that wouldn't have mattered. They'd have figured it out. There was no figuring it out here. There was she was pregnant, she was going to do her best to stay pregnant,

Seeing a baby should not make her want to claw out of her skin. But sitting on the rock in front of the condo, watching a fussy baby be walked up and down the beach, she crossed her arms over the tops of her knees and gritted her teeth as her mind spun ran through the usual topic headings: cute baby—I'm pregnant—how the frickity fracking frick is that possible?—Derek and the super jizz—potential baby— Derek would be so freaking, annoyingly excited—Derek will never know this baby—Derek is dead.

How she felt once that played out seemed to be a spin of the roulette wheel, but if overly positive reactions were on there, she hadn't landed on one yet. That didn't shock her. It wasn't like she got lucky all that much.

Actually, wasn't that the issue? She had gotten lucky. She and Derek had gotten lucky as much as possible, and then Derek got run into by a semi. He wasn't lucky, then. He'd left his luck with her; inside of her.

Meredith buried her face in her arms; if she was lucky, the parent hoping the sound of the waves will get their baby to sleep wouldn't hear her laughing.

"Tell me again why we're not goin' to day-camp." Zola ordered, waving her spoon like a professor demanding to know why Meredith hadn't been to class.

"Because, the session was over, and I decided I wanted to spend more time with you guys."

"Um, but, you get lotsa time with us on Twodays and Foursdays."

Meredith paused in washing out her own cereal bowl. "You mean Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

"Uh huh."

What does she think the other days are? Monday could be Oneday but what's Sunday? Wednes sounds nothing like three…. That was exactly the kind of thing she wanted to occupy her mind while they were with her; they made her curious.

"And in Seattle you don't get to see us in the weekday time because you save lives."

"That's true, but we're not in Seattle. Here, I don't have anything to do other than be your mom."

Zola carefully walked her finished cereal bowl over to the counter, raised her chin to meet her eyes and said, "Maybe you should find something else."

Then, she turned away, stomping into the living room, taking a step back and thumping her foot against the same spot if she didn't think she'd stomped hard enough. Meredith suddenly had a better handle on Derek's infuriating insistence that she was cute when she was pissed off.

Once the breakfast dishes were done, and the kitchen wiped down, she went into the living room. Bailey was fully engrossed in playing with the animal figurines. From what she could hear of his commentary, she was pretty sure they were watching the Big Bay Boom. His aversion to books had done a hard one-eighty when it came to the fireworks. She'd read and re-read the mixed-media library book they'd gotten to prepare. He was amazed by the different ways of illustrating "booms." She planned to ask Regi about similar books next time they went to story hour. The original sat open on the coffee table. She started to close it, but her eyes fixed on the spread it'd been open to, showing the little girl protagonist sitting on her tall, dark-haired father's and pointing at the bursts, which on that page were created with colored foil.

Derek will never do that.

Zola will never have that.

Bailey will never have that.

This baby will never have him.

For the rest of their lives, she would have to juggle three children at events like that. Someone would always be missing out on her attention, maybe the majority of them. Whether they had other adults around or not, she would be the one wanted, and she would want to split herself in two…three directions. They wouldn't get to turn to their dad and see his eyes shining with pride at home quickly they adjusted to the noises. He would've known how to comfort them if they'd needed, primed from all the years before Amy cured herself of her aversion to explosions—and become onesaid the Derek in her head.

How long until she didn't hear him? How long until she couldn't hear him?

She would've been the one he'd comforted at the beginning of the show, before the popping started coming at less rhythmic intervals, and overtaking one another in a way a singular gunman's bullets couldn't.

I've got you, Mer

. She would've leaned into him, not caring if he felt her flinch, even as she said: They're just fireworks, I'm fine.

A shadow moved across the patch of sunlight she was staring at, and she glanced at the window to see a figure moving along the shoreline closest to them. He had a dog on a leash ahead of him, something golden. The clouds over the water made him into a shadow. His silhouette wasn't very much like Derek's but for one second—for just a second, she could pretend to pretend.

The man moved out of sight. Under the clouds, the water churned a darker blue than it had any other time in the summer. She barely had to blink to be sinking into Elliott Bay, but it wasn't the water that pulled her down to the carpet. She drew her knees up to support her chest, which felt like a tidal wave had slammed into it.

It wasn't that he'd lifted her out of the water; it wasn't about wanting a knight in shining whatever. She could have a whole damn rescue team if she needed it by simply allowing Alex access to Find My Friends. It was the way he'd climbed into the hospital bed to hold her afterward. It was the way he held her every night they shared a bed. His smile introducing her to Zola. The times he kissed her lightly and it felt like a habit, and the times it didn't. The way he looked at her after opening the bag with Zola's big sister shirt, and every day even once Bailey was out in the world.

It was his grumpiness whenever things didn't go his way. He'd sunk so quickly after facing his failures. Some of that had been the flipside of the arrogance that'd attracted her to him, but it'd also showed how deeply he'd cared. With his talent, he'd taught her how to save lives without sacrificing her own, and then the one time he put himself on the line to satisfy his—their?—savior complex, she couldn't save him.

His armor or his noble steed, whatever you wanted to call the damn Porsche Cayenne had crumpled around him, and not because of one of the curves she knew he still took too fast. This dragon came out of nowhere, and then he'd been under the care of a fucking squire, and from there she lost the metaphor.

Across the room, the kids had moved on from the farm to their shared collection of cars. The simple click of an inch-long metal bumper hitting the broadside of a Matchbox sedan was deafening. Meredith pressed her forehead to her knees, finally realizing she was crying when the position made her ragged breaths audible. The Derek in her head wasn't perfect. Thinking of the ferryboats so much more often always put I can't keep trying to breathe for you in the loop, but they'd gotten past that. She'd gotten past that. With him gone, and his absence pounding against her heart, it was starting to feel like breathing was the only thing she could do for herself.

"The meds were a bad idea."

"Are you not seeing any effect? We can — "

"There's effect. they're definitely fucking effective! All the May Gray and June Gloom bullshit hanging around me, personally, realized it's July."

"And you're pissed off about that?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm pissed… I want them back before they blow too far out to sea! 'Hey, dumbass, that's an emotion, remember how you wanted those last month?' I follow. But I'm too pissed. I get that I'm pregnant; I have been here before, and it's ridiculous, but it is not this. I'm storming in here yelling at you about fog, and that's gotta cross some sort of line. I'm too worried about the next time I get upset about something stupid. I'm afraid that the next time I get too pissed off it's going to be at one of them over something stupid, because everything is."

"Everything is stupid?"

"Rewind, is that what I said? Yup, it is. Great. Derek is dead. It doesn't benefit him that I'm like this. The fact that I was literally sick about it for weeks can't change what happened to Lexie's body in the woods. There are lives I could be saving if I was working, and for all I know, someone else's husband is having a Whipple done by a hack at fucking Dillard because Grey+Sloan is down a general surgeon, and technically I'm killing them. All of that is stupid!"

"Isn't all of that why you agreed to try medication?"

"Which is why I'm saying I was wrong! There. There's your big admittance for the day. I made the wrong choice! Maybe it's me. maybe I'm defective. I'm so dark and twisty I can't stand the light. I don't know. All I know is I'm sleeping through the dark and when I'm awake everything is so, so bright. Like, fishing day bright. Like the kind of morning where I'd wake up, and Bay would be in the bed, and I'd have this hazy memory of Derek putting him there when it was barely dawn. Sometimes Derek would put him in a fish patterned onesie for good measure. I'd know that if I sat in one of the chairs by the window to feed him and watched out the back window for long enough, Derek would come along, holding Zola's hand. She'd have that ridiculous pink fishing pole. Sometimes they'd get trout. Sometimes he'd end up making pancakes with whatever fruit we had. Once I ate all the strawberries before they got back so he'd have to put chocolate chips in them. He said I was a bad influence, which didn't matter, because they had him to feed them healthy stuff, and I was the kebabs and pizza mom. But now I can stare at the window, and even go out in the water, and he won't….

"He's never coming. Not here. Not in Seattle. Not if I traumatized Bailey by moving to stupid D.C. I understand that. I've accepted it from day one. There is nothing I can do to get those days back, and I hate being miserable about that constantly because the sun is out!

"I would've been great if I'd never met him. Mom would've died, and that would've been hard. Maybe I would've met Lexie. Maybe she'd have met him, and they'd be a pair of brunette neuro gods, without any ruined Alzheimer's trials, or hostile uteruses, or-or ferryboats. I would've been fine—better than fine. I would've been an extraordinary surgeon."

"Which you are. I've read your publications, Dr. Grey."

"Why are you calling me…? Don't give me that fucking shrink look Dr. Klein I don't wanna figure it out. I've got pregnancy brain, and I still can't focus on crosswords, or anything written at above an eighth-grade reading level, and I'm still so…all I have felt consistently in months is exhausted. Psych people are infuriating! You misdiagnose twin absorptions and put crazy girls under for a weekend. Give me surgical privileges anywhere in the country, and I can do that.

"The psych people in Seattle did nothing for my mother. Nothing but put me in a social worker's office for eleven hours, listen to me telling them our phone number over and over insisting my daddy would answer it, and they…then got me into a group home bed 'until we can arrange for a family where you can stay.' Nothing about mom coming for me, nothing. She… When they let her go, she still looked dead to me. Like part of her died. And they all called her 'Ellis.' My aunt called her Ellis. Mommy was Dr. Grey. I didn't know who Ellis was. I mean, I did. There was a whole recitation thing to make sure I knew my address, my phone number, and my parents' names, but I was too young to really get it. I don't…Thatcher must've called her that. She didn't let anyone call her 'Elle' or 'Ellie.' Maybe he did, and that's why she hated nicknames, I…. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, and thinking about it is stupid, but I keep…I keep doing it, because I'm living it from the other side, and I can't…I can't…I don't want to be her. I don't! I just… she…. For months, this stranger who looked like my mommy lived with me in a place I didn't know. That I…That I forgot, and only half…half remember. It's all shadows, and Momm— Mom crying.

"And then it happened again. The blood and the hospital, and that time…that time the social worker had these papers, and she was talking about 'a nice family' and I'd been a holy terror for my aunt. Not on purpose, but not not on purpose. I knew, I knew I was the reason she left, not.… I think she disapproved of Mom's decision to give up Maggie, but I'll never…. The social worker…I was sitting in the hall, and... I was so scared that..."

"What were you scared of?"

"You know. You just want me to-to… Crap, I hate this! I hate the stupid crying thing. I take back whatever I said about not wanting it to stop—I get how the saying the bad shit aloud resonates, or whatever, so doesn't it stop working? If I know how the truth behind the trick?"

"No. Not particularly."

"Damnit. Fine. I was scared that she'd decided to get rid of me. That without a husband or-or a sister, she couldn't keep a kid…wouldn't want me. So, I'd go to some other house with more strangers. And I didn't…I didn't want to."

"Of course, you didn't."

"That's not…. This isn't a cute, sad-eyed kid story. I…I loved her. I was terrified of being sent to live with strangers, but it wasn't…wasn't like…I didn't have my…but… but I also…I could see that Ellis was gone. She'd shut Ellis down, and she'd revived 'Dr. Grey,' and that was it. No more crying, or dark rooms, or locked doors. And I thought…being her kid would mean I could learn to shut away all the bad feelings. All the sad, and anger, and…badness that made everyone leave me, and I wouldn't be Meredith anymore. One day, I'd just be 'Dr. Grey.' Dr. Grey wasn't a person. she was a surgeon. Mom said surgeons had to be machines."

"But you're not a machine, are you, Dr. Grey?"

"Obviously not. I thought she was…I didn't have to…I had four months of successful surgeries without…No."

"But if you hadn't met Derek? If you were just 'Dr. Grey?'"

"I'd be a lot closer to it. He could be a road hog, and a big damn stupid hero, and get hit by a fucking plane, and it wouldn't have made me…. I wouldn't be going through this. I wouldn't feel this."

"You might have felt it for someone else. And you wouldn't have felt the love you had."

"Is it worth it? Is any single person worth ruining your life over?"

"Do you think your life is ruined?"

"Did you not hear the whole spiel about the fishing, and the pancakes? For the rest of my life I'll—Well, I could have Alzheimer's in ten or fifteen years. At least then I might…I might have him back."

"Was that how it was for your mother?"

"Yes! She had Richard. Most of her flashbacks were to her time with him. If she knew me, in her mind I was usually about Zola's age."

"So, she went to a time when she could still be Ellis? I wonder. Her suicide attempt came soon after the breakup?"

"June nineteenth. That I know. Days. Weeks, maybe? I had the same shoes on at the carousel. They got thrown away. but there was…a dinner. Chief Vance had discovered she was on the Harper Avery short list, as a resident, and it looked good for the program. They gave her some trinket. Richard was there. It was the last time I saw my father. She must've done it the next day."

"And she told you to —?"

"Be an extraordinary woman, yeah, I came here with the last shrink."

"Your mother did that at the height of the promising career she worked long and hard for. She was right on the precipice of the place you described: between Ellis and Dr. Grey."

"And she killed Ellis!"

"Did she?"

"She…. Well. She wanted him to come, and if she died trying…if I didn't come through…. If she hadn't done that, she could've gone straight to MGH. She'd have been sleeping on laurels or whatever."

"Sounds like that Dr. Grey would've thrived."

"But she…she woke up still Ellis. and she wanted him…wanted to feel and be loved as herself. She didn't shut down until she signed the papers to give up Maggie."

"What do you think would've happened if she hadn't shut down?"

"I don't know. She…. It wouldn't have made him follow her. He stayed with Adele for almost thirty years. Mom would've still just been alone. With me. Most of her friends she already had them from school or residency. Didn't make them at MGH. By the time of her diagnosis there was no one left. The whole world would've been interested, but she'd shut them all out. Maybe it'd have been different."

"Was she happy that way? Were you happy with her?"

"N-no, but…. Beni, I've tried doing this for the kids. They're the only bright spot. but—"

"Your kids bring you joy?"

"They—yeah, they do. Of course, they do!"

"We talk a lot about the bad times in here. The traumas, because those have a strong negative impact on our lives. Positive emotions are also immensely powerful. Think of the happiest moments you've had with Derek, and Bailey, and Zola, what if you hadn't experienced those? Would you be different? If you hadn't let Lexie see you smile?

"I—yeah. I'd be Automaton Dr. Grey. The guilt, the misery, the inadequacy. Poof. Gone."

"And would that life be better? Would you be happy living on cruise control?"

"That wasn't Mom's thing. She gave every Masshole in Boston a run for their money."

"Well. She wasn't only Dr. Grey, you realize. She had another title."

"Huh?"

"You never just call her Ellis; many people who feel alienated by their parents wold. You've said Sadie does. You do not. Your mother is an example of someone who lived so afraid of loss that she stepped out of the path of any emotion. That doesn't mean she never got sideswiped."

"Mom didn't take joy from me. Satisfaction, maybe. When I was still trying, or I charmed some hedge-funder at a banquet…I-I don't want to-to…I love them, I want to be the mom they need, but…I just don't want…I know I said I wanted to feel how much I loved him, but I didn't…it's too much. I think I was detaching because it's more than I can withstand."

"I don't think that's true. I sincerely wish I could offer you something to mask this pain, Meredith. I imagine you have patients who feel significantly less than what you're experiencing. A round of post-operative opioids isn't the answer here. Consider those happy moments you thought of earlier: Are you really prepared to risk never feeling that again?"

"No. That's not what I…."

"The last time you lost the person you loved the most in the world, you both died before you could start coming to terms with losing her."

"Mom? I didn't…I had Derek, by the time I lost her."

"Did you?"

"When she died, yeah. Do you want me to write out a timeline? I get how complicated it is, I lived through it."

"So, you feel your mother was in your life until she died?"

"She didn't always know it was me, and maybe…maybe I did feel like I'd already lost her…. That I'd been losing her over and over across five years. Does that support your thesis?"

"Nicely. Can you elaborate?"

"I could."

"Would you please elaborate?"

"The first time she didn't know me, I wasn't prepared. That look came on her face, and at first, I thought she just didn't recognize me, not because of the Alzheimer's, just…me. One day, she told me she never wanted a kid, and I didn't find out what changed her mind, or if it did change. There were five years of moments like that. And when she did see me, as me, she was always disappointed in me. In the past, in the moment, always…. Then there was the gift day, and…what I said, it wasn't…knowing she would've thought I felt like…. That I never…. It was so much worse than-than Lexie…At least she knew…I think she knew…I-I…Mom…."

"Take your time."

"I don't want to. I hate this. Mom would hate that I'm like this over her, much less Derek. A man. Damnit, maybe I should've come out to her, she might've seen liking girls too as doing something right. Or as another decision I couldn't fucking make."

"She spent her pregnancy with Maggie coming to terms with losing Richard, didn't she? And mourning the life she might've had with him. Whether she wanted to or not; whether her subsequent decisions benefited the two of you, she did go through that. You hadn't stopped to process your losses, Meredith. Unless you do, they'll keep compounding. Maybe you're not destined to be a 'bright and shiny' person, as you say. Life tarnishes us all along the way, but at every juncture you have sought joy in response to sadness. You came here for a reason, and it wasn't entirely your children, or your mother. I think perhaps you intended to do it in Seattle, and then Derek came along."

"What?"

"You need to discover how to rely on yourself for the good things, as well as the bad."

"My mother…."

"Seems to never have given herself an opportunity to thrive outside a hospital. No offense, but that sounds rather like being on life support to me."

"Her professional life satisfied her."

"As you say you did. Tell me, Meredith, has your goal in anything ever been satisfaction?"

"No."

"Do you want your kids to feel they only give you sat—?"

"No! Of course, I fucking don't! But with them I'm…mostly…I've mostly held it together. No matter what else I was or wasn't…. They get the best I can give them."

"Is that the best you can be?"

"It's…it's what I'm…I've been better."

"Who do you want to be?"

"Someone who…who's more than this."

"Is Dr. Grey—only Dr. Grey—more?"

"…no."

"What about Zola and Bailey's mommy?"

"Only? I…I guess not."

"What about Meredith Grey? Doctor Meredith Grey? Who is the mom of two great kids who love her, and each other? Who loved her husband, loved her sister, loved her mother enough that their loss was almost too much to withstand? Who has another baby coming and is already willing to sacrifice for them? Is she more?"

"That's…that's all…. There's so much else I'm not— "

"Is Dr. Meredith Grey more than you?"

"Not-not the way you. That's all stuff that's true, but I'm not…. I'm not working, I'm not doing anything."

"That's demonstrably not true."

"Fine. I take the kids to the beach, I read the BOOM book eighty times, I watch videos of surgeries, and some nights I masturbate so I don't dream about my husband's rotting corpse fucking me."

"That's not nothing. It's what you feel capable of, now, and it's more than you were doing a month ago. You're making progress, Meredith."

"If you say so."

"I do. For now, I think you are capable of telling me one of Meredith Grey's good memory. About anyone, or anything, but not exclusively your kids. While you tell me, I want you to try to really feel what you felt then, not how you think about it in retrospect."

"Really?"

"No, I said that because I'd like you not to do it."

"Yeah, yeah. Um. I guess…I've been thinking a lot about Lexie, obviously, and us being at a different point than me and Maggie, and it made me think of the times Lexie and I decided that we were going to do something sister-y. Like, stuff we would've done together if we'd known each other at any other point in our lives. We started doing it purposefully after my liver donation, because I was going stir-crazy, and somehow my little sister had never seen Labyrinth. That was unacceptable…. Still is, I'll have to ask Maggie…um…. Lex stole a bunch of board games and jigsaws from Child Life…. Well, borrowed. She put them back. But she didn't ask. She was such a klepto. She'd have been the kind of little sister who stole your hairclips, and she definitely had three or four of my sweaters at any given time. She once furnished her apartment with shit stolen from the hospital, and I know a skill you perfected as a teenager stealing lipstick when I see one. Um, it started then.

"I never showed her, but I made a list. I… I used to have lists of things I needed to ask Mom, and it became how I organized. It helps get stuff out of my head. We didn't do it regularly, but we'd be off together on a weekend, or in the living room and one of us would suggest something. One of the really early things…like, before I could go back to work, but I had energy…huh, wonder what that was like…. That's…that's now. Um….

"We went to a playground. The one we took Zo to, later. My intern-year roommates and I had been out there a couple times. It was maybe four in the morning, because we didn't want to deal with actual children. We started off doing the slides and climbing stuff. I could get up the jungle gym faster, but she killed on the monkey bars. Then we talked on the swings for a long time. Just about whatever. Stu…silly stuff. Grade school. Weird fixations we got into as kids. Music. We were both the kid who didn't really swing themselves or get someone else to push, we twisted the chains up and spun. That might've been where I got the idea…. I swear we were sober. She'd been at work until eleven. I was a week off the pain meds, and not cleared to drink yet. We were just goofing around, and I bet her I could make her cry uncle on the merry-go-round.

"She'd just been in this epic surgery with Derek, and it was before I quit doing neuro, so I might've been a little envious. She…she was such a badass little weirdo. I thought that then, don't worry. Derek put her in charge of making sure he didn't forget to move, or get dehydrated, and there was some rivalry thing going on with another resident, I think. I wasn't there. I just know she refused to leave the OR if Derek didn't, so she wore an adult diaper through it. Being able to control your body, ignore it, whatever, is a major surgeon thing, but I was definitely taking advantage of the fact that she was gonna be more stubborn than ever about that. Obviously, my goal was to make her hurl, but I would've had bragging rights and fifty bucks if she'd just given up.

"What neither of us knew was the playground was technically closed. I mean, get a gate, right? I don't know if the cops had been called because two delinquents were being loud and stupid out there, or if they were just doing rounds, but...cop car. They were…mmm…a block up?

"Maybe…I guess this is not an example of good sisterhood."

"So far it sounds exactly like something that could've happened if you'd known each other ten years earlier. I'm going to guess you ran."

"You don't get to be the person I was without a record by hanging around if there are cops. Used the merry-go-round I'd been turning as momentum, could've had the route to the house memorized since I was five years old, took off. I yelled at her to come on, but—she'd lasted a significant amount of time, did I mention that? And I might've been on bed rest for a month, but I was giving it all I had. So, I turned around at a corner in time to see climb off, and…she face-planted. Just...wham. If I'd still had staples, I would've pulled them laughing, but I was also across the street two blocks down by then, which was closer to the house than the park. I kept running, and then…then she yelled, 'You were a terrible child!'

"Not a terrible sister."

"Is that what you thought she said?"

"No. It's…um. Just…I went into the house, woke up Derek, and told him he had to go rescue Lexie. Once he put together that Lexie was not dying, and I was not dying or delirious…. I could tell when he was trying to be subtle about checking my pupils and asking questions he knew the answer to. Which may not be something you tell people, because it means made my husband afraid I had a head injury multiple times, but, look, he had expectations to adjust…, but the look he gave me.… He was so exasperated. But it was also…like he was a little bit…this is ridiculous, but I swear he was almost proud…or…I dunno, there was just something to the expression; something more than when I went to bed, you two were watching a Golden Girls marathon, why are you like this? Then, he grabbed his wallet and put on shoes, and went to, I like to think, reenact the part in Aladdin where Jasmine is caught stealing, and Aladdin saves her by saying she thinks the monkey's the Sultan.

"I mean, it's not like we were really breaking a law. They were back within like ten minutes. Lexie had a nosebleed and looked like she was going to deck one of us, but I'd made coffee and saved her dad's life. And I probably did look pretty pathetic by that point, because the most strenuous activity I was getting otherwise was sex of the kind that didn't require much work on my part. Derek, on the other hand, was now the one laughing. Apparently, they breathalyzed her because she couldn't walk a straight line and didn't have her ID.

"He called me a Lexie-corrupting reprobate and threatened to tell Bailey…Dr. Bailey, not…obviously, not the unborn kid. I don't think he did, because I went back to work without being told I was a fool for a reason I couldn't trace, or getting pulled down a hall by my ear, or whatever. I think he went to call Mark so he could be the one to tell him that in a hoodie and track pants his girlfriend didn't pass for twenty-one, let alone twenty-five. I cleaned her up, because it was the least I could do, and I told her she could cuss me out for ditching her. and… I'd forgotten this…. She said she would've done the same thing to Molly, because there are just times you have to let the cuter, younger, sweeter, more believable sister be the fall guy.

"We ended up giving Derek the fifty bucks, because we couldn't agree on who really won the bet. I said it was her because she didn't cry uncle. She said me, because before the cops could ask her anything, she puked, and that's why they made her walk the line."

"Thank you for sharing that."

"I think there's another tone of voice you're supposed to use for that statement."

"How was telling me about that different from when I asked you to do the same thing earlier in the month?"

"It was…I wasn't in a diorama at…. I'll keep taking the damn pills."

"I think that's an excellent choice."

"I bet you do."

FATIMAH: Would you and the kiddos like to join Sadie and me at Pride? It's very active so even if you aren't ready to talk to her, it shouldn't be too awkward.

I saw some really cute kids clothes at an open-air market today. What sizes are Z&B? Seems like they've grown since April!

Do you need a ride to your next OB appointment? Sadie will be in Toronto, but I'd be happy to go with you.

SADIE HARRIS: Mer, are you not getting Fati's texts?

Death?

FATIMAH: I haven't heard from you in five days. A bit concerned, love.

SADIE HARRIS: Your phone is tracking to the apartment, so I know you didn't lose it, and it rings. There's no way you're not getting this.

Really starting to feel for Alex fucking Karev right now.

Torres liked me. I think I still have her number….

FATIMAH: I'm coming by, and I apologize but there's no way I'll be able to shake off my beloved.

SADIE HARRIS: Meredith Grey, what the fuck is going on?

Meredith slept.

She woke. She ate. She took the kids to the beach. She slept.

She woke. She ate. She took the kids to the park. She slept.

She woke. She ate. She let the kids stay in the living room. She slept.

She woke. She ate. The kids climbed onto the bed. She slept.

A/N: Both the 2012 and 2014 Big Bay Booms are available on YouTube. Search them, or PM me, and I'll send you a link. The 2012 explosion is intense.

Sorry that this went up late. I had a real-life deadline and got very annoyed when it interfered with my self-assigned, fan-fiction deadline! It is obnoxious, though, because this is finished; I just always underestimate the time it will take me to proofread.

For zombie-free Mer/Der sexy times, check out the fic I posted last week, Start the World (Melt with You), which begins when Derek returns from breaking up with Rose!