Okay so, here's the next chapter. Winter break is a wonderful thing. Instead of spending all morning in biology lab, I spent it writing chapter five. And that? Is a far more fun, relaxing occupation. Hee…so I am happy, and here is some more to read. Glad to see that people understood and appreciated Addie's early season two evilness, because while I tend to find her fairly awesome now, she did start off as a bitch in heels. (Which you know, I thought was possibly even more awesome.) And anyway, that's where the characters are at this point in my story. So…blah, blah, blah, yes she messed up the Mer/Der confession.

Anyway, this chapter takes place two weeks after the previous one. I harp on that point a lot throughout the chapter, so it should be fairly obvious. But just in case you forget…this stuff? All the words below? Two weeks later. We're moving forward in time because Meredith is being Meredith, and I really think you would all go insane and abandon my story if I spent ten or so chapters describing just how much of an avoider Meredith was being for two weeks. I know I'd go insane, and I'm an avoider myself. So yes, we're moving ahead towards things that I find to be a bit more interesting. Hopefully, you guys shall agree.

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Meredith felt as if she had lost her voice. Or perhaps, the feeling was closer to what it would be like to be invisible. She wasn't exactly sure. All that she knew was that, for the past two weeks, she felt as if she had been existing in some strange sort of limbo. Her world had become a monotonous blur in which she woke up ill nearly every morning, forced to remember that she was pregnant, and then spent the rest of the day doing her best to ignore the same fact. Consequently, she said very little to anyone outside of what was necessary for work. Work proved to be a wonderful sort of distraction. Provided she managed to steer clear of both Derek and Addison, Meredith could usually drift quite nicely through her day. And, with the exception of Izzie and Cristina (who prodded her way too often for her taste as to what she was going to do about the baby), she rarely spoke at all. She knew it wasn't healthy…that she needed to decide. But something kept her poised just beyond the brink of making a decision. Stalling was more comfortable than the consequences that came with finally choosing, and so Meredith let herself linger in indecision.

Her indecision was starting to spill over into everything she did. Meredith smiled vaguely as George piled her food onto his tray for her, her attention directed towards scanning the cafeteria for a familiar head of raven hair or its counterpart of flaming red. She wanted to eat her lunch free of reminders that she still hadn't talked to Derek, and that…the one time she'd tried to talk to him, she had wound up stuck in a small room alone with Addison. The memory of that night still left her uncomfortable even two weeks later, although she liked to pretend that it had nothing to do with her sudden lapse into silence. Nothing at all.

The cafeteria was crowded with the midday rush of doctors and nurses, technicians and visitors all trying to find the time and space to sit down and eat for a few minutes. Meredith couldn't spy either of the Shepherds seated anywhere, but the various conversations filling the room were creating a distracting low hum of noise, and she couldn't quite see over the shoulders of a group of taller pediatrics residents anyway. Resigning herself to whatever lay hidden within the cafeteria, Meredith grabbed the corner of George's lab coat to keep from getting separated in the crowd, and struggled with him towards one of the few remaining tables.

"Got it," declared George triumphantly, setting down his tray and turning to wave to Izzie and Cristina, who were still weaving their way through the cafeteria's long line. Meredith just sighed as she slid into her seat, leaning forward to grab her food off of George's tray. "See, I told you we'd find seats," he continued, possessively spreading his lab coat across the two empty chairs.

"Yeah," said Meredith softly, pulling the lid off of a container of pudding, and absently drumming her spoon against the tabletop with her free hand. Her legs felt tired and heavy, and she closed her eyes, wishing the room wasn't so loud.

"Any good cases today?" George's voice summoned her eyelids back open just a few seconds later, and she frowned, shaking her head.

"Umm…valve replacement with Burke." Her voice was heavy and disinterested, failing to pick up on George's eager smile.

"Hmm…valve replacement," he echoed. "That's good. Well, you know, Burke…he's always good to work with. Intense, but still…good." Meredith shrugged and slumped forward, propping her chin up with her fist. The idea that she could forgo lunch for a quick nap in an on call room was floating around in her head, and she poked at her pudding, trying to decide if a nap would be worth the effort of getting up and once more struggling through the swarm in the cafeteria. "Joe's is good too," continued George in an awkward segway away from work. A slight note of nervousness seeped into his voice, which once again escaped Meredith's notice. She just yawned and swallowed a spoonful of pudding. George stuttered slightly as he spoke, saying, "I mean, it's a good place to hang out. Obviously it's not the same place as an OR, but still, I like Joe's. You like Joe's, right Meredith?"

"Joe's?" asked Meredith, her eyebrows knitting together into a slight frown. "Umm…yeah. Joe, he's great…" Her voice was rather absent to begin with, and quickly grew completely distracted. "Damn it," she muttered under her breath as her attention was caught by the sight of Addison walking into the cafeteria, the clack of her heels somehow reverberating above the din. Meredith's first instinct was to turn away and stare intently at the table, which she was halfway to doing before she caught sight of Derek. She still wanted to remain staring at the table, but it was simply no longer possible. Derek was shuffling a few paces behind Addison, a coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other.

"Maybe we could go there later if…umm…you're thirsty after work?"

George was speaking, but his voice didn't even register in Meredith's mind. She shook her head slightly, her breath catching as Derek lifted his gaze from the ground. The heavy frown that had been creasing his brow fell away instantly as his eyes landed on her. It wasn't exactly a smile that crossed his face, just a strange twist of his lips that was somehow sad and filled with longing. Their eyes locked, as if they were two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together, and it just was right to keep on staring. Meredith didn't mean to stare at him like that, actually she hadn't meant to look at him at all, but her eyes followed where he went. It seemed to be all that she was capable of doing lately, since she had grown mute against her better judgment. Her new tendency towards silence was stubbornly resolute in his presence, and Meredith found herself only capable of using her voice when her words were medical and prefaced by a formal, detached "Dr. Shepherd." And so she was reduced to watching him, her eyes lingering over his familiar features when he was occupied with other things and unaware that she was staring.

Only now, Derek was returning her gaze intently, and Meredith found herself unable to decipher the look in his eyes. All she knew was that she seemed to suddenly be moving in slow motion, the moment of his walking past her table stretching onward and onward until she didn't quite remember what she'd been doing before they started staring. Derek turned his head slightly, following her over his shoulder even as he followed Addison to a newly vacated table. Finally he sat down and time resumed its normal flow. Meredith found herself jarred out of the moment even more so by the sound of a tray being slammed down against the table.

Cristina flopped into one of the empty chairs, raising a single sarcastic eyebrow. "Oh very subtle there Mer," she said slowly, casting an amused glance back at Derek.

"Seriously," agreed Izzie, scooting in beside George and reaching over to grab a handful of his fries. "What was that? Did you finally talk to him?" Meredith shot them both an annoyed look that very clearly stated shut up, while jerking her head (not so subtly) towards George.

"No. Umm…not yet," she said simply.

"What do you need to talk to Shepherd for?" asked George.

"Long story Bambi," answered Cristina as Meredith once again narrowed her eyes. "What?" she continued, directing her question at Meredith.

Meredith just sighed. "Nothing. And I don't need to talk to him." She twisted around in her seat, her eyes turning dark and somber at the sight of Derek and Addison seated together. "At least not yet."

"Right. Ignoring the fact that you're being completely hypocritical, that's going to help you how?"

George looked back and forth between Cristina and Meredith, his expression growing more and more confused. "What are they talking about?" he whispered to Izzie. She just shook her head.

"Nothing George." She waved a dismissive hand in his direction. "Seriously Mer. My vote's for just talking to him already," she added, causing Meredith to groan and roll her eyes. George frowned, confused by the cryptic topic and the scant information provided by Izzie, who was usually spilling over with things to tell him.

"I would vote if I had any idea what was going on," he interjected with an awkward laugh.

"But you don't," replied Cristina shortly. "This is girl talk Georgie. Go and…be a man somewhere." George just blinked, prohibited from protesting by the sudden beeping of his pager. Still mumbling in confusion, he reluctantly got up and left the table. Instinctively, the three women scooted closer together and lowered their voices.

"I don't see why you think I'm being a hypocrite," protested Meredith at once, raising her spoon defensively.

Cristina just rolled her eyes. "Oh please, you were the freaking captain of the aren't-you-going-to-tell-Burke-about-the-baby-squad. It's been what…two weeks already? And you haven't said a single word to McDaddy over there."

"Oh McDaddy," interjected Izzie with a delighted smile. "That's cute."

"No," said Meredith, her voice sharp and completely serious. "We are not calling him McDaddy. That implies being a dad…having a family. And he," she paused, shooting another glance in the direction of Addison and Derek. "Clearly already has one of those."

"Well maybe he wouldn't if he knew," said Izzie softly, her words taking on an almost lilting quality. Meredith just shook her head. Part of her turned ridiculously giddy at the thought of being with Derek again, rushing her headlong into dizzying fantasies about having a baby with him. However, that part of her was very small, just some insignificant sliver of her soul that would pop up unexpectedly. The rest of her felt heavy and dull when she even thought about telling Derek that she was pregnant. He wanted to be married. He wanted to repair things with Addison, and bitter as it felt going down, she was supposed to respect that. Meredith didn't want to destroy what he had obviously chosen for himself by forcing him to choose once again. And even if miraculously he chose her, she didn't know how she would be able to forget that it wasn't her he was choosing. Not really. She hadn't been enough. He'd be choosing her for the baby, for the obligation, and with that she was sure would come all the resentment that follows obligations. Besides, she reasoned, she didn't even know if she was going to keep the baby. There was nothing to tell.

"There's nothing to tell," she murmured, echoing her own thoughts.

Cristina sighed, smacking her drink down hard against the table. "So let me get this straight," she said, jabbing one of George's leftover fries in Meredith's direction. "You discover the freaking secret to the atomic bomb, and you don't say a word?"

Meredith just frowned. "What?"

"The bomb's the baby," said Izzie offhandedly, causing Meredith's eyebrows to knit together further.

"What?" she repeated.

"Seriously Meredith, pregnancy's supposed to make you tired not slow," said Cristina. "You tell the McBarely Marrieds over there that he accidentally knocked you up?" She shrugged, looking completely nonchalant as she gestured at the Shepherds with the fry. "It's gonna obliterate them." Meredith sighed, giving a half shake of her head, and once again twisting around to glance at Derek and Addison. They were seated close together, crowded in at one of the smaller tables. Derek's face was in profile, but she could see Addison clearly, and the other woman was talking animatedly, her red hair swishing back and forth as she spoke.

"Right," said Meredith, her voice coming out in a low whisper. She was speaking to her friends, but her gaze remained fixed on the Shepherds. They seemed stable, maybe not as smiley and happy as some of the other couples in the cafeteria, but Meredith thought they seemed stable. At least non-obliterate-able…if that was even a word. She didn't think it was, but lately it seemed impossible to get her mind to work in any sort of sensible fashion. Making up words seemed like an insignificant offense when she was incapable of holding onto her thoughts long enough to decide what she was going to do. If she was even going to have a baby. Everything was all over the place, and utterly impossible to piece together. "Right," she repeated, finally turning back to her friends. "If I have it," she said flatly. "I'm a surgeon. Surgeons don't have time for babies." It was this strange qualifier that she kept on adding to the end of her sentences, and she didn't quite understand why, but the words left her with an acrid taste in her mouth.

"We would help you," said Izzie immediately, smiling at Meredith. "You wouldn't be alone."

"And there's always dermatology," suggested Cristina with fake enthusiasm, earning an exasperated sigh from Meredith and a disapproving frown from Izzie. "Or you know, don't have it," she continued, as if she hadn't noticed either of them. "And keep logging killer hours in the OR."

Meredith just shook her head. She hated this conversation. She felt as if she'd been doing nothing but having this same conversation over and over again with herself, and with the two of them, for the past two weeks, and it always clarified nothing. "I'm just…I just…" she stammered, staring intently at her emptied pudding cup. "I just don't know. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know about Derek. It's a lot, okay? And I just don't know." Meredith's voice was tinged with anger, but it was filled more with frustration than anything else. Her words were met with silence, and a long sigh shared by Izzie and Cristina. They were exchanging a look that was remarkably uncommon between the two of them, and which seemed to reference an earlier conversation. Izzie nodded slightly, clearing her throat.

"Meredith, I know you don't want to decide," she began tentatively as Meredith jerked her head back up from glowering at the tabletop. "And you don't know how to talk to Derek, so you're letting it keep you from choosing. But that's not how the whole pregnant thing works." She shook her head, a sad burst of laughter escaping from her lips. "Doing nothing isn't going to help you escape making a choice."

Cristina nodded her head. "Seriously Mer, you're a doctor. You know how this stuff works. There are things you have to do…either way."

"I know," said Meredith, her voice coming out in a low whine. She knew that they were right, that they were on her side, that everything they were telling her was true. But it just didn't matter. She felt as if she were six again, turned back into a child who stubbornly refused to listen to reason. "It's complicated," she continued, carefully ignoring the mingled pity and sympathy in their eyes. "I'm fine. Seriously, I'll figure it out. Lets just talk about something else." She punctuated her words with a smile that didn't quite make it past her mouth.

She wasn't fine. She was a world away from fine. She didn't know what to do, but the easiest thing to do was to just turn into herself and pretend.

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While driving home from work, Meredith didn't quite mean to make the turn towards Roseridge and away from her home. She simply found herself changing lanes, possessed by the sudden desire to visit her mother. Visiting her mother was always difficult, both endlessly frustrating and depressing in turn. So, she didn't quite understand why she was longing for such a visit. But lately Meredith had gotten good at simply moving and doing without thinking, and so she pulled her car into the parking lot and hurried through the rain towards the large front doors of Roseridge. She yanked the collar of her coat up against the raindrops, not bothering with an umbrella. It was a fairly short walk across the parking lot from her car, and anyway, she was used to the rain. It was usually a nuisance, but she didn't mind it so much right now. It seemed to fit perfectly with her mood. And so, by the time she pushed open the door, her hair was damp and raindrops were rolling in little rivers down her face. Meredith wiped her boots on the small rug before crossing over to the expensive carpeting and making her way towards the front desk. It was late evening, and the nursing home seemed sleepy and quiet. Still, the woman seated behind the desk looked up and greeted Meredith with a smile.

"Dr. Grey, good to see you again," she said, setting aside the magazine she had been reading.

"Thanks," replied Meredith, glancing over her shoulder towards the empty sitting room. "Umm…I came to see my mother. Is she around?"

The woman nodded her head. "She's still up…sitting by the fireplace in the den, I believe. Should I get one of the nurses to show you the way?"

"No," said Meredith immediately, already leaning forward to scrawl her signature across the next available line in the visitors' book. "I know where it is." With a tightlipped smile, she turned and walked past the desk, moving down the hallway. The halls were dim and silent, her footsteps muffled by the lush carpeting beneath her feet. Meredith had always found Roseridge eerie in the evenings. The rooms tended to be empty, with most of the patients retiring early to bed, and the sense of fading memories lingered strongly in every corner.

Meredith froze in the entrance to the den. The room was empty save for her mother, and the fire within the large stone fireplace was casting long flickering shadows across the room. Ellis Grey was seated with her back to the doorway, her posture perfectly straight despite the inviting softness of the sofa she was resting on. "Mom," called Meredith cautiously, hoping her mother would turn her head. But the older woman didn't move, and Meredith sighed softly as she walked into the room. "Mom," she repeated as she came around to the other side of the sofa. She paused gratefully in front of the fireplace, suddenly remembering that her clothes were still damp. She sank down against its warm brick surface, tilting her head to the side as she looked up at her mother. Ellis was staring intently past Meredith, and into the golden depths of the flickering flames. One hand fidgeted with her bracelet, spinning the cold metal band round and round her small wrist. But aside from that one nervous gesture, Ellis remained completely still. Meredith swallowed hard, slowly controlling a frown that had started to spread across her face. "So Mom, how've you been?" she continued, filling her voice with a determined cheerfulness. "Sorry I haven't been to visit for awhile. Things have been…hectic." Meredith laughed slightly, but again received no answer. Ellis just kept staring into the flames.

Her laughter faded into another sigh, and Meredith twisted around to watch the fire herself. The yellow light fell warmly on her hair, and she stretched her hands out, rubbing her cold fingers together. "But I've been uh…good," she continued, speaking as if she had received an answer. The words hung awkwardly in the room, and Meredith shook her head, turning back towards her mother. "Actually, that's a lie. Seriously. A total lie. I've been a mess lately. 'Classic Meredith.' Remember? That's what you'd call it."

Ellis jerked her head as if in response, and spoke suddenly. "I'm going to be late." Her voice was filled with its usual crisp intensity, and her blank expression was growing agitated. "I have to scrub in."

Meredith just nodded her head. "Of course Mom," she agreed quietly. "Go scrub in." She twirled a stray strand of hair between her fingers, watching the individual strands of hair twist and separate, and twist back together. She chanced a glance back up at her mother, but Ellis's eyes had once again grown vacant. The two women sat there in silence for a long time, until the heat from the fireplace was no longer so warming as it was uncomfortable. Meredith frowned and shifted positions, and as she did, her mother's gaze followed her. "Mom?" she asked hesitantly, looking up into Ellis's eyes, trying to determine if anything was registering in her mother's mind. "Mommy?" Ellis didn't answer, but she didn't look away. She simply stared down as intently at her daughter as she had at the fire. "Do you remember the day I was born?" The question just sort of came out, frail and slightly wavering, forcing its way past Meredith's lips. Again, Meredith was met with nothing but silence and the soft clinking of Ellis's bracelet as it was spun in continual circles.

Meredith got to her feet, moving forward to sink down into the empty seat on the sofa. She reached out, stilling her mother's hands, folding them closely with her own. "Mommy?" she tried again, her voice filled with something new that was both hesitant and a little bit desperate. "Maybe…you could just remember me…for a little while?" Ellis blinked softly as she studied her daughter's face, but again, she left Meredith with no response. Meredith frowned, her lower lip jutting out into a slight pout, and she gave her mother's hands another warm squeeze. "Right, I know that's stupid. You can't just remember me, and I know we didn't do the whole mother daughter talking thing much…even before," she mumbled, seeming to speak more to herself than to Ellis. "But right now, I could really use…" Her voice trailed off into something somewhere between a sigh and an anxious sort of laugh. She sunk back into the soft folds of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. Meredith's shoulders were slumped forward and her eyes dark with worry. By contrast, Ellis looked stick straight and apparently devoid of all emotion. Still, her fingers were laced tightly together with Meredith's, almost clinging to her daughter. "You managed without dad, right?" continued Meredith, her voice growing low and heavy. She had stopped searching her mother's face, and was simply staring wanly into the firelight. "And I made it. You made it…we both made it. It wasn't perfect, but…"

Again, Meredith fell silent. A slow heavy sigh shook her small frame, and she curled herself even deeper into the warmth of the couch. She let her head drop down against the cushions, lingering near her mother's shoulder, but not quite daring to rest on it. The flames were reflected in their eyes, and there was something calming about the fire. "I'm afraid," said Meredith, feeling almost as if she were speaking from the depths of some dream or trance. "Mommy…" Her voice wavered slightly, and she bit down hard against her lip. She thought she tasted a sudden drop of blood, but she ignored it, choosing instead to keep speaking to herself and the fire and what was left of her mother. "I don't know how I'm going to…if I even should…" She shrugged and closed her eyes. "I've never been this terrified of anything before in my life." She fell back into silence, but this time it was broken by a sudden increased pressure against her hands and the unexpected sound of her mother's voice.

"Meredith…?" Ellis turned towards her daughter, seemingly seeing her for the first time that night. Meredith's head jerked back up, her eyes flying open, and Ellis smiled. It was a quiet expression, as if she was pulling the knowledge of how to smile out from some far dusty recess in her fading memory. Still, she smiled, and her voice was a strange cross between confusion and understanding. "You're having a baby?"

Meredith just blinked at her mother in astonishment. "Yes. Maybe…"

"That's good," continued Ellis softly as a veil seemed to pass in front of her eyes, pulling her back just as quickly as she had emerged. "Kids are a nuisance, but Meredith makes the house less lonely."

Meredith smiled sadly, unable to keep from calling her mother once more in a futile plea to keep her there in the present. "Mommy?" She was leaning forward, watching Ellis intently. Meredith could read the growing distraction in her mother's face, and knew it was too much to hope for another moment of lucidity so late at night. Still, she couldn't bring herself to look away, but rather gripped her mother's hand tightly. They sat there in silence, Meredith simply watching her mother slip further and further back inside herself, until the quiet footsteps of a nurse disturbed them.

"Dr. Grey," said the nurse, and both Meredith and her mother turned their heads towards the door. "It's late…I should be getting her to bed. If you don't mind, of course."

"No, of course not," said Meredith, letting go of her mother's hands and getting to her feet. "That's fine." Ellis looked back and forth between the nurse and her daughter, her light eyes darkening as she returned to fidgeting with her bracelet.

"You need to leave," she said sharply, her voice clear and businesslike. "I have an important surgery in twenty minutes." Meredith and the nurse voiced their agreement in unison, which seemed to ease the older woman's agitation slightly.

"I have to go now," continued Meredith softly, stepping close to her mother again. She reached out and pressed her hand against Ellis's soft dry cheek. "Goodnight mommy…" And with that, Meredith turned and walked away, leaving Ellis to the nurse's care.

It had grown nearly pitch black outside, the parking lot illuminated solely by vibrant patches of yellow lamplight pooling across the pavement. The rain was still falling, the drops splattering cold and heavy against the ground. Meredith hurried to her car, huddling against it as she dug through her bag for her keys. Instead, she found herself pulling out her wallet, her fingers working quickly to extract two cards she had tucked into its folds many days ago. She shuffled into a halo of lamplight, squinting against the rain to read the words printed on them. The first one had been given to her by Cristina, and contained the phone number for the clinic she had been about to use herself. The number was stretched across the length of the card in a bold, glaring font. The second piece of paper was a business card for one of the few OB/GYN practices outside of Seattle Grace that was still covered by her work insurance. She shuffled the two cards back and forth in her hands, tracing a finger slowly along the edge of each as raindrops did their best to turn the crisp papers soggy.

She had to make a choice. The truth felt painfully simple; she had to choose. Meredith knew in her gut that she couldn't linger much longer in indecision without driving herself insane…without making things much harder than they were already bound to be. The cards felt tiny and fragile resting in the palm of her hand; ridiculously easy to just let one slip through her fingertips and fall away forgotten. And so she kept her feet rooted to the pavement, blinking back the rain and refusing to move until she did just that.

Meredith didn't quite know how to explain how she chose. It was simply that, no matter how hard she stared, she couldn't bring herself to rip up the first card. And so she tucked it into the pocket of her jeans, and moved impulsively to the second one, shredding it straight down the middle before her mind once again found time to qualify and protest. She let it drop down to the ground in fragments, the pieces of paper landing in a puddle and quickly soaking up the rain. Meredith stared blankly at the puddle, watching as every last fragment disappeared. She didn't move until a sudden crack of lightening split the sky, and jolted her from her thoughts.

Meredith cursed and hurried to the car, slamming the door shut as the rain intensified. She shrugged off her soaking jacket and pulled on an old Dartmouth sweatshirt that was laying in the backseat. It wasn't until she'd had the heat cranked up high enough and long enough to start fogging up the windows, that she finally reached back into the pocket of her jeans. She pulled out her one remaining card, setting it against her knees. The ink was slightly smudged by the rain, but she could still make out the text. An M and a W lay interlaced within the boundaries of a small heart, and beneath the image were printed the words;

Mercy West Hospital
J. Turner, MD & Associates
Offices of Obstetrics and Gynecolgy

Meredith breathed in deeply, the air moving past her lips in a sharp hiss. Quickly, before she had the chance to freeze again, she fished her phone out of the depths of her bag. Squinting in the dark, she dialed the number. She didn't care that it was late. She could leave a message, after all.

Once she hung up the phone, Meredith found herself sighing with something approaching relief. It felt strange in contrast to the constant tension she had been living in the past two weeks. She knew it would be short-lived, with her doubts probably returning as quickly as the next morning. She would be overwhelmed and confused and frightened all over again. But Meredith just sighed and shrugged her shoulders as she backed out of the parking lot.

For now, she could relax. Because now…she had finally decided.

She was keeping her baby.

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Oh my. As some of you guessed correctly, Meredith is keeping the baby. Because it's what I think she would do, which means, for better or worse…this is another baby story. I know there are lots of those, and part of me didn't want her to keep the baby because there are so many of them, but I kinda really like the baby stories. And well, this is going to be an angst-filled baby story, which I suppose is a little bit different. Anyway, that's all there is to that. She's keeping the baby even though it's hard and she's terrified because she can't quite bring herself to not keep it.

And yeah, this was another chapter with painfully little Mer/Der interaction. I know, and I'm sorry. Mer had to decide for herself on her own, and that turned into her going to see her mother. Because she thinks it's quite possible that she'll end up just like her mother, raising a child by herself. So yes, those are my thoughts. The next chapter will have a lot more Derek. There will be some interaction with Meredith that is more substantial than their usual Poignant Looks of Longing and Woe, and will have some of his perspective as to the past two weeks as well.

Anyway, thanks for reading and for the great reviews!