She sat in the police station bunk rooms. Her kids were sleeping in a bunk bed, but she couldn't sleep and hadn't since the two hours she had gotten before the fire. It was mid-afternoon the day following the fire. She stared out the window watching as white puffy clouds moved across the sky casting a shadow on the sky as it passed the sun. She turned in the seat to look at her kids sleeping. Where were they supposed to go?

Her mother was dead. She hadn't talked to her father in eight years, and it had been nearly thirty since her father was sober during one of their conversations. It had been five year since she had spoken to her stepfather who had once, when she allowed him, the father she always wished her real father would be. But since she left Seattle with no more than a letter, they hadn't talked. It was her fault for not leaving a number or anyway to contact her. She often wondered weather or not he still thought of her. She wondered if weather or not her friends still thought of her. She wondered if the love of her life still thought of her. In her heart, she hoped they still did and if she ever returned they would forgive her for her sudden departure. But it had been five years without a word or a letter to any of them. At that time her stepfather, her family of friends, and the man who took her heart from her were all the family he had.

The house her mother left her before her death, when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's left her the house she grew up in before moving to Boston after her father left their family. But when she left Seattle, she left the house to her family of friends. She had nowhere to go. Everything she had was gone. She had the money to pay for a new house, but she wasn't sure if that's what she wanted. She wasn't sure if she wanted to live in Baltimore anymore. She wasn't sure what she wanted. What she needed was a place to live. Even if she called her step-father, she wasn't sure if she could ever return to Seattle and face her path.

She turned and looked at her children asleep in a bed huddled close together. They cried. They cried for forty straight minutes until they fell asleep when she sat them down to tell them the house was gone and Coco was gone and all their toys were gone. Her eyes slowly moved to her bag. She leaned forward and slipped out the two pictures she had taken from the house before it burned to the ground. One was a picture of the twins on the swing laughing happily. One was a picture of the man who stole her heart, Alex Kerev. He was smiling with his deep dimples. His grey-green eyes sparkling with a cute little smile.

She set the pictures down on the table and looked between the two. Tear rolled down her cheeks as she took out her cell phone. She scrolled through the contacts list and paused on her step-father's number. She took a deep breath and hit the send button. Unsure if the number would be the same as it was five years before. The phone rang and continued to ring. She almost hung up when she heard his voice.

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The sound of the phone ring awoke him from his sleep. He jumped up rubbing his eyes as he turned on the light. Picking up the phone, he brought it to his ear.

"Hello?" He mumbled in a groggy voice. He fell back and waited for the person on the other line to respond. "Hello?" He repeated in a tired voice sprawling out over the empty bed.

"Richard?" She asked in a shaky voice.

"Meredith?" He asked his eyes popping open. "Meredith is that you?"

"Yeah, it is." She sniffled.

"Well it's been a long time." He said unaware to the sadness in her voice.

"I want to come home?" She said after a few seconds as she cried into her phone.

"What?"

"I want to come home. My house burned down." She cried gasping between every few words. "I have no where to go. I've missed you so much. I've missed Christina and George and Izzie… and… and Alex. And there's so much so many people know. need to But the point is… I… I want to come home."