A/N (12/02/15): Hello friends! As hard as it is to believe, it's been about two and a half years since I last updated one of my stories. My sincere apologies to all of my loyal readers for essentially dropping off the face of the earth, and thank you to everyone who kept reading, reviewing, and messaging me while I was lost in "real life", whatever that is!

I am working my way through this story, tweaking it slightly to take it in a direction that will better bring it to the conclusion I always intended it to reach. I'll be posting the updated versions of the existing chapters in batches until it's all caught up and we get back into new material. Most of the changes are minor in the first 15 or so chapters, but there are a few slightly more substantial changes in the later chapters of this new version. So even if you've read the story before, I encourage you to start at the beginning and work your way forward - I'll date all the updated chapters as they go up, so that it is clear what has been updated. Thank you all for your patience!

Lexie shifted a bag of groceries onto her hip, fumbling with her keys as she half listened to the excuses Mark was offering through the Bluetooth in her ear.

"Mark," she finally interrupted, pushing the front door open and adjusting the groceries again as she stepped into the house. "Shut up."

"Excuse me?"

"It's been almost three weeks since you got back from New York, and every day, you tell me you'll talk to her tomorrow." Lexie paused in the entryway, kicking out her foot to close the door. "I'm sorry, but I've had enough of that bullshit. Either you talk to Meredith tonight, or I'm going to do it for you."

"I thought you were going to let me handle this," Mark protested wearily. "I will talk to her. I just need to find the right time."

"Mark, there will never be a good time to tell her that what she thought she knew for twenty years is wrong."

"I know, but…"

"Tonight, Mark. End of discussion."

"Fine," Mark grumbled. "I have to get back to work. I'll see you when I get home tonight."

"Don't be late," Lexie cautioned.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Love you, little Grey."

Lexie smiled. "I love you too."

Hearing the click from the other end of the line, Lexie removed her ear piece and set it on the counter next to the groceries before reaching into the bag to begin unloading.

That night, Mark felt like he was holding his breath as he knocked lightly on the door to Meredith's bedroom.

"Come in."

Mark pushed open the door and looked inside, where Meredith was sitting cross-legged on her bed, paperwork spread out around her.

"Bringing work home with you?"

Meredith nodded a bit sheepishly. "New consult. The request came in right before I left the hospital today. Figured I'd get a head start on it before the morning."

Mark nodded quietly, knowing as well as she did that the case could easily have waited until morning, just like all the others she'd been bringing home to work on overnight the last few months. It wasn't unusual to walk by her room at three or four in the morning and find the lights still on. Some days he wasn't sure how she managed to be alert enough for her surgeries, but as long as her skill didn't seem to be slipping, he knew that, as her boss, there was nothing he could say.

"Did you need something, Mark?"

Mark shrugged. "Just figured we hadn't talked a lot lately, so I thought I'd check in."

"You're a terrible liar, Mark Sloan." Meredith scooped up her paperwork and dropped it to the floor by the bed, patting the now empty space next her with the palm of her hand. "But come on in anyway. Have a seat."

"You know, I'm not sure my wife would approve of me being in another woman's bed."

Meredith smacked him playfully as he sat down. "You're not in my bed, you're on it. That's different."

"I suppose so."

"So what did you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. Had any good cases lately?"

"Mark, you're Chief of Surgery, you sign off on all my cases. You'd know if I'd had anything interesting. Why don't we get to what you really came up here to talk about?"

"Yeah, I guess we probably should."

"Are you going to make me guess?"

Mark shook his head. "I doubt you could even if you tried."

"Well, there aren't all that many choices. Either you're here for another 'Meredith, we're really concerned about how you're handling your grief and really think you should talk to someone' talk or we're finally going to talk about your visit with Derek after Thanksgiving."

"Wait…how did you know that I…"

"Next time you make up a fake consult, you might want to write down your cover story for reference. Your patient had a completely different diagnosis every time I talked to you."

"She did?"

Meredith nodded. "Not to mention the fact that when you left, she was a he."

"Crap," Mark muttered. "So you figured it out, then."

"Didn't take a genius," Meredith said. "How was Derek?"

"I sort of punched him out in the middle of the surgical floor."

"How do you sort of punch someone?"

"Okay, so I decked him. It's not what I had intended to do when I showed up there. It just sort of happened."

"I'm not sure I wouldn't have done the same thing, although probably with less effect than you had." Meredith hesitated for a moment, as though waiting for Mark to say something else. "Mark, why are telling me this?"

"Because I found something out, Meredith…something you need to know."

"What?"

"He didn't read the letters, Meredith. He didn't know about the girls."

Meredith shook her head. "That's impossible…you saw his letter, Mark. He was very clear about what he wanted, and it didn't include me or our daughters."

"Meredith, he never specifically mentioned the girls in that letter. We just assumed that was what he meant because he said he'd received your letter. But what if he never opened it?"

"I don't understand. I told him, Mark…he knew. He had to know."

"I'm not saying you didn't try, Meredith. There was no way you could have known he wasn't going to open those letters."

"But he said…"

"He said he got the letters, and he said he wanted you to stop writing so he could work on his marriage. He didn't say anything about the girls specifically."

"No, I'm sure he did."

Mark sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out the wrinkled letter and handing it to Meredith.

"I thought you were going to get rid of this," Meredith commented as she unfolded the page.

"I don't listen well. Read it."

Meredith nodded as she scanned the page, her breath hitching as she got to the parts she'd thought she remembered so clearly.

"He didn't know, Meredith."

Meredith set the letter down next to her and looked over at Mark with tears in her eyes. "It never made any sense to me, the way he turned his back on us, but I've spent almost twenty-three years hating him for it…hating myself for thinking he'd be different. And now you're trying to say he didn't even know?"

"No one is saying this is your fault."

"And I suppose he wants to meet the twins?"

"He does…if you're okay with that."

Meredith shook her head. "It isn't my decision. As much as I still think that they're my babies, they're grown women. Adults. Who they choose to meet…or not meet…that's up to them."

"I think it would be easier for everyone if you were involved."

"I can't be in the middle of this, Mark. I'll talk to the girls, tell them what happened and how they can reach him if they want to do that. But I won't be involved beyond that."

"I think he'd like to see you, too."

"That's not going to happen."

"Meredith…"

"He didn't know I was pregnant, fine," Meredith interrupted. "He didn't realize that he'd be hurting the girls, I'll grant him that. But he knew that letter would hurt me. He knew everything he did from the moment he met me was going to hurt me. It took me a long time to get over that, Mark. I didn't trust people before I met Derek, and it took me a long time to trust anyone again after Derek. So I don't care what he wants or doesn't want. He's going to have to deal with the fact that we have way too much history for me to ever want to see him again."

"That's a little bit harsh, don't you think?"

"No, I don't," Meredith snapped.

"Okay, okay." Mark threw up his hands in defeat. "I'm sorry."

"No, I shouldn't have snapped. I'm just…tired, that's all."

"Are you getting any sleep at all?" Mark didn't bother to mask the concern in his voice.

"Some…enough, I guess."

"Are you taking the pills the doc gave you?"

Meredith glared at him. "Thanks for your concern, Mom."

"Meredith, she gave you those pills for a reason. You need to sleep."

"I'm fine, Mark."

Mark scoffed but didn't protest, having heard enough of Meredith's 'fine' over the last two plus decades to know that even if he didn't believe her, nothing he said was going to have much impact. He nodded as he reached out and put an arm around her shoulders, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.

"Okay. But you know where to find me if you need me."

Derek sat on the edge of his couch, staring at the envelopes on his coffee table as though he were waiting for them to do something. The postmarks were nearly twenty-three years old, and the corners of the envelopes had begun to yellow with age over the years, but he'd never once considered throwing them away. Up until Mark had turned up, they'd been a link to a past he had thought he knew, to a woman he'd let slip through his fingers. Now, they took on a whole new meaning – they were his only connection to the family he'd never dreamed possible.

Picking up the last envelope he'd received, all the way back in the middle of February 2006, Derek slowly broke the seal and pulled out the pages inside. As he unfolded them and started to read, he couldn't remember a time when he'd ever been as nervous as he was right then.

Derek,

I don't know if you got my earlier letters or not, and I'm not exactly sure how to begin this one. If you didn't get the earlier letters, I suppose I should start at the beginning. When you left Seattle, I didn't know it yet, but I was pregnant. I found out after you left. Twins, no less. And yes, I'm sure they're yours. There was no one else.

If you read my last letter, you know I went into preterm labor just before Christmas. My doctors managed to stop the contractions for a few weeks, but it didn't last long. Our daughters were born January 7th. They're so incredibly, unbelievably tiny - three pounds, four ounces and two pounds, eleven ounces - but to me, they're beautiful. I wish you were here to see them in person.

They'll probably be in the NICU for a long time, and to be honest, I'm scared out of my mind about. I can't tell anyone here, because they all keep telling me to be strong for the girls, but I don't know how to do that. It's been a week and a half since they were born, and there's not a day that goes by that I don't walk into that NICU and expect someone to tell me that one of them died while I was sleeping.

Look, I get that you're married, and if I were your wife, I'm sure I'd be pretty pissed off if your ex-mistress popped up with two kids. But these girls deserve to have a father in their lives, Derek. I'm not asking that you leave your wife, I just want you to be their father. I don't know how, but I know we could find a way to make this work.

I've enclosed a picture of the girls - they're still in their incubators, so I know the flash is a bit awkward on the glass, but it was the best I could do.

Meredith

Derek held his breath as he reached into the envelope and pulled out the Polaroid picture Meredith had tucked inside. The girls were lying in neighboring incubators, tubes coming out from all directions. He'd seen a lot of premature babies in his years as a doctor, and he knew how tiny they could be, but it still took his breath away to see them.

If Derek had thought reading Meredith's words would upset him, he was surprised to find that it had the opposite effect. As he sat there staring at that picture, he knew exactly what he needed to do, with or without Mark's help. And he wasn't going to wait another day to do it.

Derek Shepherd was going to Seattle.