Another chapter introduced with an Interpol song. I might use all of the lyrics from Evil if I keep using them in every chapter ;)

Anyway, this is mostly about Derek, still lots of fluff. I think it's gonna be fluff till the end; they've been through enough drama already.

I hope you like it!

Part 21 – Heaven Restores You in Life

You can become blind by seeing each day as a similar one.

Each day is a different one; each day brings a miracle of its own.

It's just a matter of paying attention to this miracle.

Paulo Coelho

Home. Home. Home. You're going home.

It'd been a bad day; a long, bad day. The air on the deck of the ferry was chilly and the wind ruffled my hair, penetrating the pores of my skin.

Home.

It was great to be back on a ferryboat after the longest shift I can ever remember.

Ferryboat; home.

Meredith trusted me when it came to building a house: she picked furniture, wall colors, blinds and curtains, and accessories, but she left the planning entirely up to me. She didn't complain about an unneeded back porch or a weird corridor between the shed and the actual entrance; she loved how the kitchen was lit, even if she couldn't cook. She stared endlessly out our living room wall-wide window, at Seattle shining green and clear on a perfect sunny day. She teased me about the three empty rooms left upstairs - one of them wasn't really empty anymore -, freely joking about kids without flinching or welling up in tears. She never judged my decisions. She just asked me to help her decorate Alice's room, because she said it was something she shouldn't take care of alone.

Home, to Meredith and Alice. Home.

A swirl of wind hit my face, distracting me from staring at the deep, blue water. It looked a lot like Alice's eyes, even if they were getting greener every day. I couldn't get enough of her after three weeks, despite every night's nursing session and all of the new things I didn't know how to approach. She was astonishing.

Home, Meredith.

She was so perfect with Alice. I know how much effort she was putting into being a great mother, and she was excellent. 'Everything to make Alice grow extraordinarily,' she told me, 'not like me'.

The way she rubbed Alice's back after feeding her and how she talked to her as she dozed off in her arms were perfect, almost unbelievable. It was painful to wake up every morning and leave them in Alice's room, pressed together in an armchair, staring at each other and filling every desire they both had: milk for Alice, wholehearted love for Meredith. I'd missed them all day, peeking at their picture in my wallet more often than usual. The shore was closer.

Home.

More blows of wintry wind hit my face, and chills ran down my back.

Imperceptible raindrops began to drift down my windshield, as I hopped in my car to drive uphill. Opening the window, the air was filled with that pleasant post-Christmas air, full of grassy smells and baked goods. Almost there. I could see the thick trees surrounding my home as they grew wider. Then the already familiar white porch welcomed me. There weren't any flowers yet, but Meredith had promised to plant some as soon as spring arrived. The gravel scratched under my tires and I stopped my car. The rain was heavy by then. I picked my bag up off of the backseat, a smile painting my face when I saw Alice's car seat there.

The key opened the door gently. Home, finally. Everything was silent, even though was only late afternoon. I had left the morning before, and everything seemed just like it had the day before.

"Derek?"

She was in the kitchen. I could tell by the already familiar distance of her voice. If it was even farther, she would have been lying on the couch, admiring Seattle. She was walking towards me, because the voice seemed closer "Are you soaked?"

I passed a hand through my hair: I was soaked. She knew even before looking at me. A smile spontaneously lit my face.

"Yeah, I'm taking off my boots and jacket, wait..." But she didn't. Instead she showed up at the kitchen's doorframe, holding Alice in her Kenyan wrap and smiling widely at me and my wetness.

"Do you need me to get you dry clothes?"

"It's not that bad as it seems, my sweater isn't as damp as my jacket."

"How was it at the hospital?"

"Too many car accidents because of the ice and too many people brain dead. It was Christmas last week Meredith..." I sighed

"I know," she inched towards me, softly placing her free hand on my chest before kissing me tenderly, wiping away all of my worries. I kissed Alice's hair then, and she cooed happily, strangely wide awake.

"We had a nice Christmas," she added and I smiled at the memory.

We remained home, it was one of the first days we'd had Alice home and we enjoyed our quiet house in the woods as a family, exchanging small gift between the two of us and watching the rain falling quietly from the sky. The biggest gift had been lying in our arms the whole day.

"What about you and Alice?" I asked the grin still on my face.

"So far so good," she smiled, tracing circles on Alice's back.

"What did I miss?" I asked, my voice almost fading, worried, incapable of remaining firm and tough like I had the past few hours while I was busy doctoring.

"Long feedings, a breathtaking sunrise, and I'm pretty sure I saw a deer walking through our grass early this morning," she smirked, happiness twinkling in her eyes.

"There were deer when I lived in the trailer."

"It was beautiful, so powerful, but still gracious. I'm glad Alice will grow surrounded by deer," she smiled

"Or bears," I joked.

"There are bears as well?" her eyes widened

"Maybe," I smirked and she giggled. "How have you been?"

"Not as busy as I expected. I did leftover laundry, rearranged my old medical books, watched the Grey Method in my mother's tapes while Alice was napping in my arms, and I decided to cook you dinner," she listed

"You're cooking dinner?" I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice.

"I'm trying pasta. You bought the sauce..." I chuckled loudly, as I stripped out of my sweater to walk upstairs.

"You shouldn't be standing in the hallway half naked, Derek. There's a baby in my arms. I told you I could get you some dry clothes," she teased

"Just, set the table, I'll be right down."

She shook her head, still grinning and let me go upstairs to grab a dry pair of sweatpants and my clean, long-sleeved college t-shirt. My exhaustion suddenly disappeared, at the promise of her self-made dinner. I hurried downstairs, grabbing Alice in my arms as soon as I was closer to Meredith.

"Hey Peanut," I mumbled softly, stamping a kiss on her chubby cheek. She wasn't very fond of my scratchy cheeks, but she managed to clinch a tight hold on my forefinger as I held her in my arms.

"She was kinda looking around for you today, you know?"

"She was?" My heart melted at Meredith's words. Alice had been looking for me and I was working.

"She was curious to know where you'd gone to, so I explained it to her."

I lightly touched Alice's cheek. Then I turned to kiss Meredith's too.

"I missed both of you today." Our faces remained merely a few inches apart. Her eyes stared right into my soul.

"How many, Derek?" she asked, after a cautious look.

She knew from a single look that I'd lost too many patients that day. Too many lives cut right after Christmas. She could understand me with a glance, especially after she had Alice. I tried to smile, but it faded as I focused back on her question.

"Four."

"I'm so sorry," her soft fingers shifted from my back to my waist in a soothing gesture.

"It's just...so unfair, right?" She nodded, turning the pasta. "Everybody should be happy after Christmas…One of them had three kids..."

She leaned towards me, lingering to see if I wanted to be touched, so I inched forward and let her rest her shoulder against mine, her chin placed on top of it. Alice curled up in my arms, un-wrapping her hand from my finger and kicking my forearm with her incredibly small feet. Not that small, considering she was barely three weeks old, but still...

I kissed Meredith's temple. Then I went back staring at Alice. Who would look after those kids? I'd managed that kind of childhood, but it was unbearable to think of now, with Alice in my arms.

I was wondering what Meredith was thinking, her thoughts hidden under a perfectly calm face, content to just lean against me.

"They'll be fine," she comforted me and I nodded, helplessly. Then silence wavered between us again, just Alice's quiet noises filling it. "It's time to go to bed, Peanut," she added, after glancing at the clock over the fridge and tickling Alice's tummy.

"Can you keep an eye on the pasta?" she asked.

"I'll take her," I immediately replied, needing to be with her a little while more.

"I don't mind. I have to feed her anyway..."

"Stay," my voice sounded so pleading, from longing their presence since the second I had shut the door. "Feed her here. It's the kitchen isn't it?" I smirked "If it's not too uncomfortable for you..." I added.

"It's fine," she smiled. "She'll nod off before you can drain the pasta."

"Dinner can wait," I smiled.

I put Alice in her arms and she fussed a little. Then she settled on Meredith's chest and started nursing gently, not craving food like she had the first few times I'd seen her eat. It was like both of them had reached a silent consensus; an agreement to be perfect that night.

Alice's fists were tightly holding Meredith's breast and her eyes were already closed. Meredith had a soothing smile on her face and was rocking Alice quietly back and forth creating a regular, calming rhythm to her meal. A lock of her hair was falling loosely from her ponytail brushing her exposed chest. Her eyes, locked on Alice, tilted up and met mine searching for something I wasn't able to understand. Those looks spoke a thousand words; the only way to get to her when she didn't want to open up to me.

Alice was breathing quietly, reminding us she was there. Family. It had been a weird word to think just a couple of years ago.

"Derek," she whispered in a firm, patient, but curious voice.

"Meredith," I called back. Her name was the only thing that fit pieces together after such a bad day.

"Can you believe it?" she asked, slowly tracing Alice's entire body with her fingers.

"Alice?" I asked, still unable to pinpoint where her mind was.

"Everything, we're sitting in our kitchen without roommates, with our daughter, with our Christmas tree, and we're making dinner. It's..." she finished with a beaming smile.

"Perfect?"

"Weird. I mean, yeah, perfect, but think about us..."

"What's wrong with us?" Her tone wasn't arguing. It was something I couldn't properly understand. She was adorable when she began thinking.

"We met in a bar and now we have a daughter: a beautiful, already asleep daughter. I would say that's incredible," she giggled.

"What do you mean?" I knew exactly what she meant 'Nobody screws a person they meet in a bar and ends up writing post-it weddings and having kids.' But it was really nice when she talked to me like that.

"We've been through a lot, but still, Alice's here and we are here with her as well. Despite every other wife, and mothers, and rings in the woods...and even bullets Derek. Crazy shooters, and somehow we're here, putting our daughter to sleep before eating our dinner." I nodded, unable to say anything to her, because she had gotten the point better than I had.

"And we spent the best Christmas I have ever had together." she added with a grin.

"Yeah," I smiled, feeling her face turn into a smile, easing the sudden stiffness of our movements "Do you think you might start liking Christmases, then?"

"Maybe, but it's a long time until the next one," she smirked, patting Alice's back as she finished her dinner. "I'm sorry your mother had to fly back so soon, I liked her here. She should come more often, you know, to see Alice..."

"She'd love to," I said, because I knew she loved Meredith a little bit more every time they met and my heart melted when I saw them together.

"You have a great family back East," she smiled.

"That's because you haven't met all of them together," I laughed, thinking about Nancy especially, and how she couldn't like Meredith at all after seeing her come by the trailer. "I like our family's quiet," I added, saying that word to her for the first time. She smiled, surprising me.

"Oh, wait until she starts talking..." she grinned, drawing circles on Alice's back. She was asleep on her shoulder. Silence confirmed her peaceful sleep. The pasta was almost ready. Meredith told me she would nod off before dinner. I smiled.

"I'll drain the pasta. Then I'll hold her during dinner."

She stood up. Before I could react and stop her "There," she smiled, placing Alice in my arms and grabbing the dipper from my hand. "I'll drain the pasta." She kissed me, before turning to the stove.

Alice shifted quietly in my arms, to settle more comfortably. She was such a silent, calm kid from day one. She never cried too loudly or too often, only when she needed some milk or a clean diaper. It was almost as if she knew we weren't really prepared to handle kids, even if we wished with all our souls for one. And then she arrived, after a long time of grieving and recovery, after being too far apart and too sad to even talk to each other for a while, one morning she had showed up. One morning when I had actually had a long, bad day just like I had that day.

And then it clicked that it would always be like that: I'll come home and hold her and Meredith in my arms and everything will fall back into place. At some point Alice would run to me and throw her arms round my neck. A whole bright future was sleeping in my arms.

I lightly traced every line on her already familiar face, wondering what it would be like to hold her in my arms like this in a couple of months or a couple of years.

"Der," Meredith's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up and she was smiling, showing off two steaming dishes of spaghetti. I smiled back, sitting on the chair across from her, trying not to shift Alice too much and wake her. She inched closer to the corner of the table, sitting almost beside me.

"You are beautiful," she said with a beaming smirk, before chewing the first mouthful of pasta. I grinned, pleased, before she talked again, "I mean, you are sexy, charming, and handsome and so mind-blowing sometimes I can't even breathe, but now, holding her like this, you two together, are just beautiful," she admitted, so true to herself that it made her blush slightly.

"I missed you. I never thought it could be so nerving to be at the hospital for so long. I've had longer shift before, but this..." I confessed as easily as she spoke to me, her hand was suddenly touching my arm.

"I missed you too and I already told you Alice felt the same. She's pretty smart, I never thought she would realize you were gone longer than usual at just three weeks-old. I should have read those books more carefully..." she giggled, easing the mood.

"They don't use 10/10 APGAR kids for those books," I grinned back proudly.

"Luckily, or every mother would freak out," she smiled.

"Are you, freaking out I mean?" my tone more serious.

"Not as much as I thought, yet. You?" she grinned.

"Maybe. Sometimes. I'm not near an emotional meltdown if that's what you want to know, I'm just feeling everything deeper, you know, like I peeled off a layer and it's suddenly colder. But I like the chills."

"I'll have one sometime soon, I'll tell you. I'm too bright and shiny lately, something will crack. Don't worry too much if you find me crying without a real reason either, those are my wild mommy's hormones as Cristina likes to call them," she smirked, waiving her hand to dismiss the thought.

"Mommy," I repeated, louder than I meant to.

"What?"

"Nothing. It just sounds nice."

"Oh. Thank you, Daddy!" she giggled. It still felt weird to intertwine those two names.

I put down my fork to grab a hold of Meredith's wrist, placing my palm on the back of her hand, while she stroked my own with her thumb. Our eyes locked intensely, no more words needed to be added. Then she glanced back down at her almost empty bowl and I let her go, her hand still lingering around my arm. Alice stiffened and turned in my hold, a tiny smile forming on her lips.

"What do you think she's dreaming about?" I asked Meredith, lightly touching Alice's cheek

"Something beautiful, dreams are always beautiful when you're little."

"Yes, most of the time; I can clearly remember waking up one night and pleading for my Dad to kick away the monsters in the closet down the hall." She smiled hesitantly, waiting for some more glimpses into my past. "He walked to the closet, switched on the light and then came into my room to tuck me back in, saying something soothing and nice that I can't remember." I waited for a second, trying to remember his words, but I couldn't even hear his voice anymore. I didn't remember it. "I can't remember my father's voice," I spit out, a lump suddenly blocking my throat.

Meredith brushed her hand along my arm. Her figure blurred. I was about to cry, because I'd had a long day, I missed my family, and I couldn't remember my Dad's voice anymore. She shifted her chair next to mine, wrapping her arms around me, and placing her head on my shoulder. On the opposite side Alice was sleeping peacefully.

"It's okay," she tried to soothe me. She was so good at that. "You were just a kid when everything happened, Derek." The softness in her voice when she pronounced my name set free the first tear. "My father wasn't dead, but I didn't have any memories of him either, before meeting him again. No clue about anything and I was still convinced that someday he could come back. Until one day in middle school when I stopped believing. You have good memories Derek, hold on to that...Maybe you'll remember something tomorrow or another day. I've found myself remembering childhood stuff that I never even remembered happened since Alice showed up. You know your father's voice, Derek." She said my name with so much trust, stressing every single letter, pushing confidence through my uncertainty. Then she kissed away the single tear from my cheek, looking into my blurred gaze. She stared me down with the depth in her green-gray eyes. Gray for worry, green for happiness; that's what I've learned from years of stares, almost as if I'd always been waiting for those eyes to stare deeply into mine.

I sighed. Then I kissed her, our lips brushing lightly, reminded of Alice still cradled in my arms. The more I stared, the better I felt and then I knew I wouldn't need anything more in my life to feel complete, because I had Meredith and I had Alice and at that point, nothing mattered more than them.

AN: Sad, longing Derek was nice to write. I hope you liked reading it as well. Not so much action here, I know, they're just there, being with each other, which I found extremely nice, or I wouldn't have written something like this.

Loved it? Hated it?

I'm gonna be pretty busy and there are still some loose ends before I can call this story finished, so I might need a little bit more time to upload. I hope you'll wait; I'll do my best to be quick.

Thanks for being there and reading, I really appreciate the 25,000 views and I would really love to hear your opinions on this story so far. I've noticed a lack of reviews lately. Not that I'm complaining, I really love the ones you guys gave me. I think that feedback is always helpful if I'm doing something wrong or if I miss something that you really wanted to read. Like here, I'm never going to write their first Christmas together, as you noticed.

Anyway, thanks for being there,supporting this story.