A/N: Hi again! It's getting late, I'm tired, and I have to work in the morning, so I'm going to keep this author's note short. But here is the next chapter of Over You! I'm really enjoying writing this, and I hope you're enjoying reading it. A huge thank you to those who left a review on the previous chapter—I will reply to those with the next chapter's replies. Anyways, without further ado, here's chapter four!

She had almost forgotten about that day, that interaction. Her lips formed into a smile and she almost chuckled at the memory of Lexie dancing around alone in her bedroom. Despite the happy memory, however, her mind began to wander back to that dark place—back into that daunting forest with the suffocating smell of smoke and the intense feeling of pain radiating from her body, the place where her little sister was crushed under that plane and died. She just couldn't help but chide herself for not being as good of a sister to Lexie as Lexie was to her. At the beginning, how many times had Lexie needed her—or just somebody in general—and she hadn't been there? Worse yet, she hadn't just happened to be somewhere else—she had refused to be there. She could have been there to show some support, but she chose not to. How many times had she let her down, hurt her feelings (whether directly or indirectly), or failed to live up to what Lexie wanted? Too many times, in Meredith's opinion, far too many times. And it's not like Lexie was really asking for much—she just wanted her half-sister to be friendly to her and have her back, even just in the workplace. It wouldn't have been terribly hard to just treat the girl like another human being and tell Cristina to stop giving her such a hard time.

But Lexie wouldn't want Meredith to beat herself up over any of that or dwell on the past, and that was the one thought Meredith had to hold on to. For Lexie's sake, she tried to keep the negative thoughts at bay. When doubts surfaced, she had to remind herself over and over and over until the guilt-ridden thoughts went away for the time being. And when she just couldn't seem to let that thought convince her—when all she could think about was all of those times that she wasn't there for Lexie—she instead tried to think of the times Lexie was there for her. Lexie had not only been a wonderful sister, but she was also a great friend—to Meredith and to anyone else she cared about.

The time that stuck out to her the most was a day shortly after she and Derek had lost custody of Zola. Derek was, at the time, furious with her for tampering with the Alzheimer's trial, and just the day before, she had been fired by the Chief. With no Zola, no job, and an enraged Derek that refused to talk to her, Meredith had had plenty of time to sit at home alone and stew in her thoughts. On that day, despite having quite a few of Meredith's open cases given to her, Lexie had come home earlier than Meredith had expected.

"This sucks," Meredith muttered out loud, slouching on the couch as she idly flipped through the TV channels. She had tried to occupy herself with anything she could think of, but after she had cleaned the house from top to bottom and done every single chore she could think of, she still found herself with copious amounts of time on her hands. She supposed she should be looking for a new job, but she just couldn't bring herself to try at the moment. It still felt surreal to her. Surely she hadn't actually been fired, right? Sure, Derek was pissed, but the Chief understood. He'd find some way to pull some strings or cash in a few favors. She just couldn't stand to think about the reality, so she instead chose to ignore it for the time being. Once the finality of it sunk in, she'd eventually pick herself up and find a job board somewhere. She was, after all, Meredith Grey.

Losing her job wasn't the worst part of the past few days, though. Losing custody of Zola was much, much worse. She had fallen in love with that sweet, beautiful baby, and now, after one (admittedly large, though, in her mind at least, somewhat justified) mistake, she may never be able to see her again. How could she have let this happen? She should've thought more about what she was doing. Had she known that meddling with the trial would be risky and could definitely have negative consequences on her career? Yes, but at the time, she hadn't truly thought about just how much she had to lose. Of course she wanted to help Adele, the patient. It was always the well-being of the patient that drove her so hard to do all that she could. She knew, realistically, that not everybody could be saved; but that was Adele Webber they were talking about—if she could just get the active agent, it would work and Adele would be fine. Maybe she and Richard could even patch things up. But in retrospect, she really should have stopped to think just a little bit more. She might have still made the same decision, but at least then she would know it was truly thought out and not just her mind going into save-the-patient-overdrive. Shouldn't she have realized that tampering with such a trial would compromise how she was seen legally? Shouldn't she have known that this very well could have happened? Maybe this was just a sign that she wasn't fit to be a mother, anyways. She should've been putting Zola, who would have soon been her daughter, first, even if her motive for helping Adele was a pure one. Yes, she tried to convince herself, perhaps that was a sign that she shouldn't be a mom. After all, she had had the worst mother in the world—she would be the worst mother in the world. Zola wouldn't want her.

But Zola did want her, the little voice in the back of her mind whispered. With a heavy heart, she remembered countless times when Zola had been upset or scared or crying and had immediately settled down when she (or Derek) came into the room or picked her up. Babies don't cease their tantrums for just anyone, after all. Babies like who they like. Maybe they don't truly dislike anyone quite yet, but they certainly have favorites. Despite her efforts to convince herself otherwise, she knew Zola had grown attached to both her and Derek, and now, because of her decision, she might never see her would-be parents again. She would go into foster care, a process that could last for years on end—switching houses every few weeks or months, having a new set of pseudo-parents and possibly siblings; a set of people little Zola would grow attached to, then soon enough be snatched away from only to be tossed into a new temporary "family." Meredith truly loved Zola, and if they didn't somehow win custody back, Zola would never know how much her and Derek (and so many other people) had loved her. She wouldn't remember either of them, nor any of the wonderful doctors who helped to save her life and care for her. She would never know any of that. That's what broke her heart the most—knowing that precious Zola would never remember how much she was loved by them; or even worse, she would never remember being loved at all for at least part of her life.

She could feel tears prick her eyes as she thought about Zola, but she shook her head slightly and stood from the couch, refusing to give in to the emotions. To her (perhaps subconsciously), giving into the emotion would be like accepting finality for all that had happened over the past couple days. It would be letting something bad win. So instead of continuing to get lost in thought, she went to the kitchen. Maybe she would try to cook something for dinner to get her mind off of her maddening thoughts. It was very unlikely that Derek would be home, but Lexie's shift ended in a few hours, and she almost always came right home after work, at least for a little while. How hard could it be to cook some basic casserole for dinner? No eggs, she reminded herself, remembering the nasty rash Lexie had gotten the last time Meredith cooked for her. Pulling things out of the fridge at random, she began chopping up some veggies and tried to keep her thoughts focused on the task at hand. Half an hour later, she had managed to create something that at least resembled food. Good enough, she decided as she slid it into the oven. She cleaned up the kitchen and then, left with literally nothing else to do, she grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat at the bar. She tried her best to think of nothing at all as she stared down at nothing in particular, but it became increasingly harder to avert her thoughts.

She let her eyes wander around the room, and when her gaze landed on—more like out—the window, she was surprised to see Lexie's car pulling into the driveway. She found it unusual that Lexie was home before the scheduled end of her shift, let alone today of all days. Upon Meredith's termination, her open cases had been distributed to other doctors, and Lexie had received quite a few of them. As angry as she was about being fired, she was glad her patients had gone to someone she knew and trusted and not some stranger. Maybe that had been the Chief's way of allowing Meredith to be kept in the loop a bit with the patients she had come to know. Lexie liked to talk, and she would certainly tell her sister about the cases that had once been hers.

She watched as Lexie got out of the car and walked up the walkway, and she soon heard the click of the front door being unlocked.

"Hey!" Lexie greeted cheerily as she pranced into the kitchen. She then seemed to catch a whiff of the casserole Meredith had made, and she glanced at the oven. "Are you, uh... Making something?" she asked somewhat warily, though still painting on a smile in an attempt to remain positive.

"Yeah," Meredith answered, "I made a casserole out of... Whatever was in the fridge. There's no eggs this time, though, I promise."

"Good," Lexie laughed as she set her bag down on the counter. "I don't have any epinephrine on me." Ordinarily she would have poked some fun at Meredith for her innate inability to cook well, but with everything that had happened recently, it just didn't feel right. She didn't want to risk upsetting her older sister, either. Instead, she opened the oven door slightly and peered inside. "Looks... Interesting," she managed, trying her best not to make a face at the disturbing-looking dish in the oven.

"How was work?" Meredith asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Lexie often liked to talk about her day, and they often exchanged stories at night after they both got home and had settled down a bit. As much as Meredith tried to avoid thinking about the hospital, the truth was that Lexie still worked there, and she had a fair amount of Meredith's prior patients—it would be nearly impossible to avoid. And she did want to know how her—well, now Lexie's—patients were. She had gotten to know a few of them quite well, and she wished she could have personally told them they would be getting a new doctor. But they were in good hands with Lexie. Meredith might have had a bit more experience, sure; but there were plenty of people around for Lexie to find if she needed any help. She was pretty sure Little Grey would be just fine, though. "Anything exciting happen?"

Lexie visibly tensed, quickly sensing the potential strain and awkwardness. Work was great, in all honestly—she had a load of new, interesting cases and surgery opportunities, and she loved getting to know her new patients. But those were previously Meredith's patients—patients she had come to know, and who had come to know her in return. They were supposed to be her sister's patients, cases, and surgeries, not her own. Sure, Meredith had made her own mistake, but she never would have thought the Chief would fire her. They should still be her patients, but instead they were Lexie's. She would, of course, be the absolute best doctor she could be for them, but Lexie didn't want to rub it in her Meredith's face. "Oh, uh, it was good," she fumbled, avoiding eye contact. "Busy, very busy. Lots to do, because, you know, because it's, it's a hospital. Just a normal shift! Anyways, how was your day?"

"It was fine," she answered simply, not wanting to share how her day actually was—partially because she was a more private person, but also partially because she didn't want to dampen Lexie's spirits. She was clearly excited about the new cases, and Meredith didn't blame her. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Meredith sipped her beer and Lexie stood there, awkwardly alternating her gaze between Meredith and everything else in the room. "I'm surprised you're home this early," Meredith remarked, breaking the tense noiselessness. "Figured you'd be running late with all the new cases."

She hadn't said that with any bitterness or malice in her voice—she just genuinely thought Lexie would be late. But nonetheless, the latter tensed again. "Ha, yeah," she managed, following suit with Meredith and grabbing a beer from the fridge. She sat down on the stool next to her older sister, and they both turned slightly to face each other. "Bailey just, uh, she let me off early."

Meredith said nothing, but she raised one eyebrow in suspicion. Bailey didn't "just" let someone go home early. There had to be a reason of some sort, because Bailey did not do anything without reason—that was one of the first things Meredith had learned from her. She didn't believe Lexie for a minute.

"Okay, I... I gave a couple of the cases to someone else," she admitted after realizing Meredith knew better than to believe her fabrication. "And I asked to leave a little early. Not by a lot or anything, just, um, a little bit."

Once again, Meredith said nothing. Instead, she remained silent and continued giving Lexie a pointed look, silently asking her why.

"I just... It was a lot of work, and uh, a lot of cases. And I had a lot to do and keep track of, so I thought, you know, maybe someone else should get a case or two, 'cause why should I get all of them?" she rambled clumsily, trying to come up with a believable excuse. "April was looking kind of bored, after all, and I mean, she's a great doctor too! She'll do just fine. It's—"

"Lexie," Meredith calmly interrupted, "cut the crap." She didn't doubt that April would do a fine job, but she didn't believe Lexie's reason whatsoever. They stared at each other for just a moment before Lexie sighed and looked down defeatedly.

"Okay, fine. I... I just felt really bad, okay? You got fired and yet I was reaping joy out of getting your cases, and I just, I felt bad about it so I gave a couple to April and asked to leave early. That's all."

"Lexie, I'm glad you got my cases," Meredith told her honestly. "If I have to get fired, then I at least want my patients to go to someone I know and trust."

Lexie glanced up. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she reaffirmed.

A small smile crossed Lexie's face. "Okay."

They sat in silence once again, though it was a far more comfortable one than thirty seconds ago. Then, in a quieter voice, Lexie asked, "Hey, so... How are you doing?"

Meredith knew she wasn't just asking as a pleasantry—if Lexie asked you how you were doing, she genuinely wanted to know. She didn't really want to talk about her feelings, though, so she chose to play dumb.

"Good, I cleaned the whole house today," she answered with a forced smile. "I think it's cleaner than it's been in thirty years. My mother would be proud. Well, maybe not proud, but at least not pissed."

Refusing to verbally acknowledge the conversational red herring, Lexie repeated, "How are you actually doing?"

"I said I'm fine, Lexie," she answered somewhat impatiently, though she didn't have the energy to actually get angry about it. She took a long swig of her beer before continuing to roll the bottle between her hands.

"Meredith," Lexie scolded, mockingly repeating what she had said a few minutes before. "Cut the crap."

She rolled her eyes. "Seriously, I'm fine. You don't have to keep asking. And you can't just steal my line like that."

"You're not fine!" she exclaimed impatiently. Why couldn't Meredith just talk about her feelings once in a while? "You got fired, one of your best friends drunkenly turned on you, you lost custody of Zola, and your husband is pissed at you. There's no way you're fine."

Meredith glanced up at Lexie and gave her a long look before returning her gaze to the drink in her hand. She felt those accursed feelings rise up again, but she did her best to push them back downwards.

"Lexie, I said I'm fine, it's just life happening. No big deal. I—"

"No," the younger girl interrupted, "it's not fine, and it is a big deal. Look, I know you like to push people away when you're hurt and you like being all dark and twisty by yourself, or maybe just with Cristina. And I get that, I do. It's just... I care about you, too, can't you see that? If I didn't, I wouldn't have asked in the first place. I know you like pushing people away, but I... I mean, c'mon, I'm your sister... Please don't shut me out this time," she finished, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt. Meredith had been there for her on many occasions. Not all the times she could have been there, but then again, they weren't really that close at the beginning. To Lexie, those times Meredith wasn't there were just a thing of the past. Sure, it hurt at the time and she wished it hadn't taken quite so long to build a relationship with her, but she was beyond glad they were so close now, and she wouldn't trade it for anything. It didn't matter to her that Meredith hadn't always been there in the past—all that mattered was that there were countless times where she was there. Now, Lexie thought, it was her turn to be there for her older sister, if only she would let her in.

The last sentence came out so small and downcast that Meredith couldn't help but look up and meet her sister's sad-yet-caring eyes. This time. There had been so many other times when Meredith deliberately chose to push Lexie (and everyone else) away, and most times she succeeded. She could get by without getting all weepy over her feelings. For a moment, Lexie was afraid that Meredith would get mad, stand up, and leave the room—she couldn't say it would have been unlike her, really. But as Meredith looked at her sister, something in her whispered that it would be good to tell Lexie.

"Alright," she sighed in defeat. "I'm not good at this whole talking-about-your-feelings thing, but... I guess I've just been thinking about Zola a lot. It sucks that I got fired and whatever, but I can find a new job eventually. Derek won't stay mad forever, and Alex... Well, I'm sure we'll work it out eventually. But Zola... There's really no replacing her or fixing what happened. I mean, we might never get to see her again. She'll go into foster care and jump around from house to house, and she won't be able to remember that she had so many people here that loved her." A lump grew in her throat, but this time she only half-heartedly tried to force it down. "I mean, what if she never has a real family, Lex? What if she never knows what it's like to have two happy parents that love her and an aunt that adores her and one place to call home? Derek and I love her so much, and you love her, and... And she won't be able to remember that. What if she never remembers being loved?"

She felt tears begin to slide down her cheeks as she met her sister's also-watery gaze. Lexie opened and closed her mouth several times like she was going to say something, but she just couldn't seem to get the right words formulated. "I... I don't know," she answered honestly, because she really didn't. She had no idea what would happen. She wanted to reassure her older sibling, to tell her it would be okay and that they'd figure something out, but that was a promise she knew she had no control over.

Meredith turned away slightly and gripped her now-empty bottle with both hands, willing the tears to stop. They wouldn't, of course, and her breathing was now becoming uneven as she fought to hold back sobs.

"I'm sorry," Lexie murmured quietly, unable to come up with a better response. Standing from the stool where she sat, she gently pried the bottle from her sister's grip and wrapped her arms around Meredith's shaking frame. "I'm so sorry, I wish I could do something to help you. I'd trade places in a heartbeat."

She shook her head at nothing in particular as tears continued to find their way down her flushed face. She felt Lexie's arms around her and she let out a sob, unable to contain it any longer. "Wh-what if she... She's never loved that m-much again?" she choked brokenly, returning the embrace and now openly sobbing.

"I'm sorry," Lexie repeated, "I wish I could make it hurt less." She wished with her entire being that there was something else she could do or say, because 'I'm sorry' just seemed so inadequate. But since she couldn't think of anything, she just gently rubbed her sister's back and let her cry.

After a while, her sobs subsided to occasional whimpers, and she eventually pulled away and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"Are you okay?" the brunette asked tentatively.

Meredith sniffled and nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Thanks," she added, even managing a small smile. "Really."

"Anytime," Lexie replied sincerely, returning the grin. She hated to see Mer in so much pain, but she was happy her sister had trusted her enough to tell her how she was feeling. It wasn't an easy thing for her to do, that she knew for sure. It just meant that much more to Lexie.

Just then, a shrill beeping began piercing through the air, and they just then realized smoke was beginning to seep out of the oven.

"Oh!" Lexie exclaimed in surprise, and Meredith jumped a little, too.

"Oh crap, I completely forgot about the casserole!"

Lexie quickly scampered around the counter and cracked open the oven door. Dark smoke poured out of the appliance and she coughed a few times. Nothing was on fire, but whatever that semblance of food had been was burned to a crisp.

"Whelp, there goes dinner," Meredith muttered, standing and joining Lexie at the oven. She turned the oven off and used an oven mitt to pull out the scorched casserole.

"That's okay," Lexie laughed, silently relieved that she didn't have to eat... Whatever that was supposed to be. Even when she had looked at it before when it wasn't burnt, it didn't look like something she would've enjoyed consuming. "Why don't we just order pizza instead? I'll buy," she offered with a smile. "And we can even watch crappy sitcoms on TV."

Meredith laughed in spite of herself. "Pizza and crappy sitcoms sound good," she smiled.

And that's how the rest of the night was spent: talking, laughing, eating pizza, and making fun of horrible television shows. Though her heart still hurt over Zola's and Derek's absences, it hurt a little less knowing her bright, smiling little sister had her back.

She had been sitting there—in the attic on the bed that had been Lexie's—for so long that she didn't even notice that the CD she had been listening to had long since cycled through all the songs and fallen silent. She probably could have sat there and thought for quite a bit longer, but the doorbell rang, thus interrupting her soundless musing. Cristina must be here with Zola, she thought to herself, and her heart warmed a bit at the thought. Lexie was gone, but at least she still had little Zola to bring some light into her life. And thank God she had Cristina to be all dark and twisty with on the days the light seemed to dim.

With a light sigh, she stood from the bed, took one last look around the room for the time being, and headed downstairs to answer the door.

A/N: Alright, that's it for this chapter! There will be two more chapters, I have decided. I'm really enjoying this storyline of Mer/Lex flashbacks, and I keep getting new ideas. I'm not sure how canon some of the surrounding information is in here, but I don't feel like re-watching old episodes to figure it out, so I just did the best I could with the wikia pages, haha. Please let me know what you thought in a review! Thanks for reading! (: