Walking these streets as Dr. Meredith Grey with her daughter's arm looped through hers doesn't make her expect to cross her mother's ghost any less.

Expectation is not fear.

Over a decade ago, she almost started her career here; like she'd started her education, her adolescence, her independence. Boston had been for her what it is to the tourists who follow the Freedom Trail rather than finding themselves walking along red painted bricks during their commute: a city made of history. She hadn't had people there; at least no one she hadn't cut herself off from the day she flew in from Heathrow, and her mother's secret became their secret.

Four more years of organizing housekeepers, and then home health aides who were made to sign NDAs like their cantankerous charge was Reagan, not a middle-aged doctor who'd written policy opposing him. "Why does it matter if people know?" she asked once. "They question your research, and it stands up, crisis averted!"

"You cannot possibly understand! I have a legacy to consider, even if you're not capable of carrying it."

It was true, she hadn't understood. Now, she knows the one person her mother actually cared about. Not wanting anyone to see her weakness had been not wanting Richard to see it. Meredith still doesn't understand isolating herself like her mother, and especially not allowing her daughter to keep her support system, flaky as it may've been. Instead, whenever she came down from Dartmouth, Meredith had been a ghost in city she hadn't left yet. She'd avoided familiar haunts, and by the time she'd left for Seattle she hadn't felt tied to Boston at all.

Derek was so eager. That year, the trial, almost losing the chance to raise the baby that would become this precious, brilliant girl; it'd been enough to make leaving Seattle incredibly appealing to him, even before Mark died. (Because Mark was reaching milestones before him for once?)

She thinks about it, sometimes; what it would've been like if they'd done it. Derek might be here; he might not. She might not have had the chance, or the support to earn a Catherine Fox when she did. She wouldn't have gotten close to Amelia. She might've met Maggie earlier, but right after losing Lexie could've made that harder than it was.

It hadn't been the time for them to leave. Staying let them focus on healing; they'd come out of a disaster closer for maybe the first time. Everyone who tried to leave had drifted back. They'd needed each other. The hospital had needed them. They'd reshaped it into something new to honor the family they'd lost.

They'd needed to stay. And maybe she hadn't been ready to connect her adulthood to her adolescence. To show Derek the whole of who she'd been. She wishes she could, now.

The year she and the kids spent in San Diego, she'd considered going to Boston, as much as she'd considered anything more than needing to escape the looks, and whispers, and him making it hard for her to breathe. Once she'd discovered her pregnancy, she'd been relieved that she hadn't decided to return; that would've put her directly in her mother's footsteps. She'd been afraid it would've pushed her toward choices that weren't hers.

She's made peace with the times their paths crossed. This won't be one of them. She's moving with her daughter's well-being in mind, and a support system in place.

After Derek, less than a year after San Diego, she'd needed her family to literally help put her together again. From there, letting them help with the kids, or be there on days she wished she could've stayed in bed was easy.

The carousel kept turning.

These days, as much of their family is on the east coast as the west. They'll be within a few hours of Callie, Arizona, and Sofia again. Sof will help her cousins feel comfortable with the grandmother they know mostly via FaceTime-adjusting to seeing the girl in real life will only take Zola a moment, Meredith is sure. The shared cribs had created a second-generation Sloan-Shepherd bond that stayed strong through losing their fathers, and being separated with no word once. The past five years have had visits, and a general acceptance of Zoom-based friendships.

If she'd taken the fellowship, she would've been the first to be pulled back to Boston. Now, that's not the case. April and Jackson are here with Harriet, and maybe Richard will come out with Catherine. And there are others who have this city in their personal histories.

Maggie's parents aren't here, but she met Winston at Tufts. And she grew up here, too. Maybe when she visits, they can figure out how many near misses there were. She's already found herself searching Cambridge for a version of Lexie she never met. Amelia isn't likely to finally attend a Harvard reunion, but she could show up during the next one just to not attend. Meredith will never make Jo face the place where she lived with Paul for her sake, but it's something she'd do anyway, for herself.

Truly, she's been ready to move on. The tightness in her chest was there before Covid. It'd started with Andrew, when she'd come to see that she'd tried to put herself in Derek's role and faced the same truth he had; love couldn't fix someone.

It's hard not to think she wasn't as good as Derek. He came to see her as an equal, and she couldn't give Andrew that. There was a difference, being the woman, but shouldn't she have been able to rise above that? She and Derek were closer to the same place emotionally; Andrew being older than most interns hadn't made him more mature; Sam had definitely been the grown-up in that relationship. Maybe Meredith had needed someone younger for a while-seven years of marriage didn't change the number of serious relationships she'd had—But what he'd done…. Regardless of his mental state, it was something she might have done once. She's not sure. It doesn't matter—she wouldn't do it, now. She hadn't put herself in physical danger in a long time, couldn't want to leave them that way. She didn't want to leave them at all. She'd promised Derek that.

Seeing him on that beach, one that looked a lot like her favorite spot in San Diego, had been many things. One of them was a reminder: he'd be with her no matter what. Being ready to leave Seattle for good after she'd clung to it hard enough to put their marriage at risk-stupid, wasted time—was not a betrayal.

Should she have moved to Rochester, after all? Saved the kids from the horror of the fire; maybe have had an easier relationship with Nick? She isn't actually sure. She hadn't been able to imagine their relatively—three is a lot of children—little family so far from everyone on either side of the country.

As for Nick…. She loves him. It isn't the same as what she'd had with Derek at the start, and maybe it can't be. He's rigid—Derek was a stickler for the big rules. The ones on the Post-it, the ones from the FDA, but he'd been patient with her, and flexible with the kids. She doesn't mean to jerk Nick around, to make him be the one holding onto a job in Seattle while she takes off for the other side of the country. This wasn't what she planned, taking the chief position, asking him to run the residency program. She'd seen them there for a long time, together or not, but Zola needs this, and while she doesn't hate being Chief of Surgery, not like Derek did, it isn't her dream.

It had been her mother's. She'd put the title Dr. Grey, Chief of Surgery into the world for her, and in the part of her heart that would always hold those five minutes in a room at Seattle Grace, she was shoving it in her face. I surpassed you, Mom. I didn't fail. She'd done her research at Mayo at a few years younger than Ellis had been, gotten her award at relatively the same age—with fewer years in practice. Ellis Grey would claim that Meredith was to blame for her stagnancy, but she'd left Boston the year Meredith graduated. If she'd been considering Meredith, it'd been to force her to find somewhere else to land.

And there was the detail Meredith had held onto since she'd realized that her mother's reaction to being told that Richard was Chief had been envy. Meredith had graduated college in 2000, and Richard taken the job in 1999. Ellis might not have known, or it might've been a memory she didn't get back that day, but Meredith had suspected she'd known about the vacancy, applied for it, and been passed over. She hadn't been able to confirm it until she'd had access to those records, in the position herself.

It's one of the only certainties she has about that day. Whether her mother would've accepted it if Meredith hadn't gone to med school; why she hadn't spoken up about Maggie; whether she thought Meredith understood about that day in the kitchen—For a decade and a half, Meredith has gone over things left unresolved whenever her mother's shadow loomed. Crossing out of it has put her on the edge of Derek's—The articles never brought up that his work hadn't touched on degenerative diseases before she'd entered his life. Personally, she thought the son-in-law of Ellis Grey angle would add human interest—That was medicine. You stood on the shoulders of giants, all casting one long shadow.

She'd reached a height her mother hadn't. Savoring that was only sort-of soured by knowing that Ellis should've collected a further twenty years' worth of achievements, and her own life could also be headed toward the Alzheimer's guillotine. Maggie's could. Bailey's. Ellis's. And by-proxy, the lives of everyone who loved them.

She thinks that's why agreeing to Jackson's proposition doesn't feel like caving in to her mother's charge. She wouldn't have taken it selfishly, especially not solely for the benefit of her career—The only thing she can imagine being worse than those first days after Derek died is waking up to discover that she has lost time and is losing herself—but chances are she won't reap the benefits of any progress she makes. She's doing it for her family. For her children. For Zola. Her brilliant, extraordinary girl who's so grown-up, but also still her baby. Her first baby; the baby she'd almost lost.

Derek had said they were too close to Alzheimer's research; she'd known that'd been part of why he couldn't work with her, and she'd put herself as far away from it as possible. It'd meant losing those moments of synchronization in the OR, meant forever having her mother's career as a measuring tape, and she didn't regret it for a second. That energy had shifted to their marriage, their parenting, and been the equalizer they'd needed. And Zola was worth far more. She'd move mountains for all three of her kids, but Zola had made her a mom. That first night, she'd told a seven-month-old that they were a team, and twelve years had only made it truer. In the year away from Seattle, she'd done all she could to ensure Zola didn't take on the onus of her pain, but she'd known shutting her out was the worse option. She'd been an observant, smart little companion, and helping her through the loss had been a significant benefit toward Meredith's healing. Her excitement about her baby sister had been infectious; she'd been patient with Bailey, who hadn't been old enough to understand what had happened, or what he felt about it. None of those fundamental traits had changed. Zola confided in Meredith, and tried to take care of her a little more than she could. She counted her siblings as her best friends, as different as their personalities were. And in forty years, she could be surrounded by Alzheimer's.

Meredith hadn't wanted to put Derek through what she'd gone through with her mother, but it would've been a choice for him, one made with a signature on a Post-it. Zola hadn't chosen. She will. No matter what Meredith says, she will take on caring for anyone who needs it, and the decision won't stem from obligation—in twenty years Meredith has not been able to calculate the degree to which hers was—Her primary reason will be love. It will mean Meredith got it right. That Derek was right to trust her with their children. Zola will be their legacy; she will be better than either of them could ever be. Meredith is going to do all she can to give her a brighter future than that.

So, Boston.

It will not be a minor change. Boston is a wholly different city in everything from climate to atmosphere. Zo is probably too old to adopt the Boston accent Derek joked about, but Ellis could. Her baby is only a few years older than Meredith was when she moved there, and, as far as Ellie remembers, she's never lived anywhere else. On the other hand, she went from kindergarten to COVID to second grade. She benefited from having siblings and a baby cousin around, but she's been a little slow to adapt, because, like Meredith at that age, she doesn't. She has her interests, and won't—definitely won't, where for her mother it had been can't—pretend otherwise. Unlike her mother at that age, she knows she's awesome. She has a huge imagination, and she doesn't let being the youngest determine her place among her siblings. Hopefully, she and Harriet will get along. A year and a half can be a lot at that age. If not, there's dance. Meredith needs to start calling studios yesterday. Patience is not her little girl's strong suit. Any excuse about waiting lists will be responded to with a wide-eyed, I don't understand. Don't these teachers get it? They're passing up a chance to teach Ellis Caroline Shepherd. Meredith is on her side.

Bailey will be going into junior high in the fall. She's definitely not against having Jackson around for that. She'd wanted him to get to spend more time with Lucas. (She'd wanted to help him become a surgeon his uncle Derek would be proud of.) She'd wanted all of them to. She never would've imagined that most of the family her children spent time with would be on her side. Bailey has grown up without it being all that significant that he's a little bit of a momma's boy, surrounded by sisters and aunts. He's a first-string shortstop, he can draw most organs free-hand, and he unabashedly twirls his little sister whenever she holds out a hand. His personality is credibly Derek Jr., according to Carolyn. Meredith sees it; she sees so much of his gentleness and quick wit. She would like to avoid the streak of toxicity that Derek and Mark brought out in each other—She'd love for him to have a friendship that lasts that long, and she's for taking in strays; a house big enough for the four of them will have space to spare. It's that particular brand of male competitiveness, the same one that fueled Owen's resentment of Riggs. It led to possessiveness, specifically being possessive of women. She's also not going to let him deny his sisters' agency in the guise of protectiveness. It's difficult already, Derek is his idol, and not quite real. Conceptualizing him is hard enough, understanding that he wasn't perfect, and that he didn't have the world figured out at ten is a little beyond him.

It's beyond all of them, but she tries. Derek was human, and she wants them to know that. Not to be striving for some unachievable excellence. She tells them she loved (loves) their dad the way she loves them, flaws and all.

"But Momma," Ellis said the last time they went through old photos. "You want us to learn better behavior."

"I do, baby." Meredith kissed the crown of Ellis's head. "I don't love you any less if you mess up, do I?"

"No!" Ellis shook her head until her hair whipped out into her sibling's faces. They looked up at Meredith with identical expressions of fond exasperation.

"That's how it was with Daddy. We helped each other improve."

"Shouldn't you get along with who you marry?" Bailey asked.

"We did. We got along the best I'd ever gotten along with anyone. Who knows you best, bud?"

"You."

"Besides me." She ran her fingers through his hair. It didn't show any signs of going Shepherd-dark, yet. She hoped that male-pattern baldness gene stayed latent.

"Zo."

"Thought so. You guys have been together almost every day of your life. Does she know everything you do about your classmates?"

"No."

"Zo-Zo, do you always know what he's thinking?"

"I can't, like, read his mind."

"Does he have habits that bug you?"

"Yeah!"

"That's how it was for Dad and me."

"He was your best friend?" Ellis asked.

Meredith swallowed. Derek wasn't in the same category as Alex or Cristina. He hadn't taken her for granted the way he had Mark; not even when it'd felt like it. "He was my partner."

"Your co-captain," Bailey offered. She nodded, and Zola flipped pages in the album, landing on a picture of her in the dress she'd worn to the banquet where she'd met Sadie.

"Almost a wedding dress," Ellie lamented. Her siblings groaned, and Meredith had snorted to herself. Best friend and lover definitely did not make for spouse.

She hasn't told them a lot about growing up in Boston—They don't know much about her childhood in general; beyond that she lived in their house with the father she shared with an aunt they don't remember, and another they don't know, and that she spent even more time at the hospital than they did—There's a lot of that no one currently in her life knows. There will be memories she'd rather not face, she's sure. She wasn't much older than Zola when she began to suspect she'd never manage to meet her mother's standards, and once she settled on that, she'd made a lot of questionable choices. She doesn't plan on regaling them with the antics of Die and Death, but they should know that she's not going to judge them for getting a little lost.

She's not going to push them, not harder than they push themselves. Why would she, when she can watch them light up whenever they talk about something they love? Who cares if it's blue lobsters, or colored pencils, or Jojo Siwa? All three of them remind her of Derek; not just how he'd get excited, but the feeling of knowing he believed in her. It helped her start believing in herself. Their children are already there, but reassurance doesn't hurt.

She's doing this for Zola, but she's going to figure out how to set the other two up for success. When they bought the hospital, she'd reconfigured the hospital day-care at Grey+Sloan to be able to keep Zola in the same building as much as possible. She's learned how to make the rules work for her, most of the time, is what she's saying. It'll be work. She's had another live-in adult since Alex appeared in San Diego, and Zola isn't old enough to be on her own with her siblings for more than an hour or three. No one's going to believe they're really moving until they're gone. But the last time a move to Boston was on the table, Derek had been adamant that they had their family, and they could handle it. Anything for the three un-crappy, extraordinary, very cute babies she and Derek had created. It might be that she can't trust anyone else to have equal authority with them. What she wants to give them, what she wants to protect them from, it might be that someone who didn't meet her mother, didn't know him, or know her as the intern whose story she wants to escape, can't understand. That sort of sucks, but she'll deal with it. She won't be alone.

She has a team.