Hi fanfiction friends! I'm much better at updating this week. Although it's not happy and full of legal business (of which I know nothing, so be kind!)

I was struck with a brilliant new idea yesterday, so I'm going to be juggling writing. For now, that project will be on the back burner, but it's still there, calling my name.

Happy Tuesday. Enjoy!

"Your girlfriend is calling again," Mark yells from the living room.

I've been cleaning the same plate for three minutes while I stare out my kitchen window. Maybe if I stare longer, I'll wake up from this nightmare.

I set the plate back into the sink and return to the living room. Mark's feet are propped on my coffee table while he begins his fourth continuous hour of Halo. He pushes the buttons so hard on the controller, I'm sure he's going to break it. Again.

Meredith's name glows up at me from my phone. I wait for the call to end and turn my phone off.

"So you're just going to ignore her for all of eternity?"

I glare at Mark and his pompous stare. "I obviously can't answer, so why bother?"

The truth of the matter is I've been in a shit mood for three days. Since I was released, I can't do much of anything. I'm not allowed to leave the state, so I can't visit my parents' house; I can't go to school without facing ridicule—it doesn't help that a brief article about my arrest was featured in Page Six; I can't even hang out with Mark because he has his own opinions on the whole situation. So I sit at home and watch endless television. I do the schoolwork I can manage at home and I go into school after hours. My professors aren't sympathetic, but luckily they all see promise in me. They want me to succeed, so they all agree on our arrangement.

But nothing sweeps the hurt under the rug.

And nothing stops Meredith from endlessly calling me.

I shouldn't be mad at her. She wanted me to stay away. It's irrational to blame her, but somewhere, in the front of my brain, I do. I can't help but think if she never showed up on my doorstep the first time, I'd never be in this situation. It's mean and cruel to blame her. I know that. Only, I can't help it.

"I could call her, you know," Mark reminds me.

I collapse onto the couch and pinch between my eyes.

"Yeah, okay. Just don't do it here. I don't want to hear."

Mark cocks his eyebrow at me and shrugs. "Right. I'll just go. Before the parents show up."

The amount I'm dreading my parents' arrival might be greater than that of a root canal. Or a soccer ball to the testicles. My mom called on Monday and wanted to visit right away, but I fended her off for a few days claiming to be sick. But three days is all they'll give me. I can already envision their response to my arrest: my mother's fake sympathy and my father's stern anger are already pushing me to the edge.

I barely acknowledge Mark's departure. Maybe after he talks to Meredith she'll stop calling. I'd like to turn my phone back on and I'd like to stop feeling guilty every time I see her name on the screen.

My parents are set to arrive any second, so I lie down on my couch and close my eyes. Anything to block out reality.

Being angry at Meredith is useless. I need to be mad at someone—besides myself, of course—and Meredith is a natural candidate. She's been ripped from my life, so for all I know, she's been shipped to Guam. I picture her somewhere far away because it feels painful to think of her being here and not able to visit. If she's 9,000 miles away, the pain seems less. But knowing she's living on the East Side off the park drives me mad. So I let my anger and hurt surround her. When her name pops up on my phone I glare. But deep within my chest, I feel the hurt. I could cry and throw a fit, but it wouldn't help.

The cherry on top of everything is the subpoena I was served yesterday. I filled it out while a court clerk watched over my shoulder. I guess I've been considered a flight risk. Luckily, my family's good name was able to keep me from being on house arrest—that and the fact that I live alone and can't leave the state. I'm to appear in court next Wednesday. My dad plans to have his lawyer meet me this week. I have a sneaking suspicion he'll be stopping by with my parents when they arrive.

Which is now. My doorbell nearly gives me a heart attack.

I buzz my parents up and flop back onto the couch. The wallowing seems to be creating a physical reaction. Everything hurts.

Someone knocks tentatively on my door, probably my mom, but that only lasts a second. My dad walks into my apartment and I can already see the vein in his neck protruding.

"Derek," Mom sighs and rushes to my side. She plops down next to me on the couch and throws her arms around my neck in an awkward side hug. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mom," my voice betrays my emotions.

My dad offers his hand, "Derek."

I reach up and shake his warm palm. "Hey," I offer.

"Quite a mess you have yourself in."

I shrug my mom off of me and relax back against the couch. Only I can't relax, not when my dad is glaring at me like that. So I shrug as nonchalantly as I can, pretending nothing is phasing me.

Dad paces the length of the room once. He's frustrated and angry.

"How did this happen, Derek?" Mom asks me. The soothing tone in her voice makes me cringe.

They both look at me expectantly. How am I supposed to explain?

"Derek?" my dad prompts, as if I didn't just hear Mom's question.

With a sigh, I run my fingers through my hair and shake my head. "It's complicated."

"You were arrested for harboring a runaway. A minor runaway, at that. The officer who arrested you told your sisters that the girl had been living with you since March."

"May," I correct. "And she wasn't living here the whole time." There was, after all, the six weeks in June and July that she spent with Alex in Washington DC.

Dad finally sits down, which alleviates some of my stress. "What were you doing keeping a runaway here? Didn't you think, for a second, how bad that implication might be? When someone found out?"

"Obviously I never thought anyone would find out."

"Her mother found out because you were careless."

"No," I correct, "her mother found out because she's smart."

"Oh, so you didn't go to Meredith's hometown and visit her mother's house? Isn't that where she first met you?"

My stomach and face burn with shame. "You spoke to Meredith's mom?"

Dad nods, "Of course I spoke to Dr. Grey. I even visited with her. After everything you put that woman through, I thought it would be smart to speak to her. She's a very nice person."

"Yeah, when she's not beating her daughter," I growl.

"Derek honey," Mom lays her hand on my arm, "calm down. We're not here to point fingers."

"Of course you are! 'After everything you put that woman through,'" I reiterate. "I didn't do anything for or against Ellis Grey. What I did was for Meredith, only."

"It's not your decision what's best for Meredith. She's a minor and she has a mother who cares very deeply for her." I open my mouth to object, but my father continues. "And," he speaks over me, "even if Meredith was in trouble, there are thousands of police officers in this city and any one of them would have been happy to help her out."

I hang my head, not in shame but in utter disbelief.

"Why did you do it?" Mom asks. "Was it because you have feelings for her?"

The idea that my feelings had anything to do with it—in the beginning—is ridiculous. I laugh to myself. When I look up at my parents, they're both wide-eyed. "I played the Good Samaritan. I heard a girl in danger, so I helped her. And look where it got me."

"So you knew her status from the beginning? You knew she was a runaway?" Mom continues.

I shake my head. "No. I suspected something was going on, but I had no idea where she was from or what her story was. She was seconds from being raped." Mom winces. "I did what I thought was best and I brought her back here. She was scared and got sick and I didn't know what else to do."

"You should have called the police."

"Yeah, well I didn't!" I snap.

Mom tries to comfort me. "You did the right thing saving her. You did a very honorable thing."

"But you should have let an adult handle her situation after that," Dad spoils my mother's kind words.

I groan and stand up, unable to even be in my skin while I hear my father's blatant refusal to see what I did as a good thing. I pace the length of the room, something I've been doing a lot as of late. "She left the next morning," I say, continuing the story. If my parents are going to disagree with my decisions, they might as well know it all.

So I explain everything. I tell them about my search for Meredith the days after she left and her return three days later. I explain how she stayed for just a week before running off. I confess that I did park outside Meredith's home in Ipswich and spoke to Ellis before arriving for Nancy's wedding. I explain Washington DC and returning to New York and Meredith finally making her place in my home. I leave out the sex, because that's no one business, but I leave a slight breadcrumb trail that almost admits my feelings for Meredith. If my dad doesn't understand, I'm sure my mom does. At least a little.

Recounting my time with Meredith gives me whiplash and reminds me of how little time we spent together together. I feel like we should have had so much more. And we can have it, eventually, but I worry that even after we endure all of this—the weeks apart, her time with her mom, and my impending prison sentence—we might not want to be together anymore. Maybe the innocence of it all will be tainted. Maybe she won't see me the same way any longer. Or maybe I won't think she's worth all of this.

These are the thoughts that keep me up all night.

Mom offers me her hand, which I take for comfort, and she pulls me down next to her. "Oh, Derek. We had no idea."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Dad asks.

"How could I? I can see your disapproval all over your face right now. How could I explain to you what was going on without seeing the same look? You clearly don't agree with my choices and whether I told you the day I met Meredith or two days before I was arrested, you still wouldn't agree."

"We could have given you legal counsel though. We could have protected you from all this."

"No, you couldn't have. The only advice a lawyer would have given me was to run. Run as fast and as far away as I can. As soon as Ellis got involved, I was a goner. I should have listened when she showed up here and told me she wanted Meredith back. I should have handed her over then because either way, we lost."

Dad perks up, "What do you mean 'showed up here'? When did Ellis come here?"

I think back. "Friday. She came here and wanted Meredith back, but I told her it wasn't going to happen. She told me we had the weekend together and by Monday Meredith should be returned to her. As if Meredith was a book checked out of the library or a DVD to be returned. It was ridiculous."

"So Ellis threatened you?"

"Yeah. I mean, she told me she'd have me arrested for harboring a runaway and kidnapping—which is bizarre—if Meredith wasn't returned to her care."

"She said she's have you arrested for kidnapping."

"Yes. Why?"

Dad runs his hand through his hair and pulls out his phone. "I have to call Gary." He glances at me. "Your new lawyer. Excuse me." He stands up and walks into Meredith's old room.

I turn to Mom. "What's that all about?"

"I guess your dad thinks that information could help you."

"He shouldn't waste his minutes. Ellis Grey will not back down from this."

Mom sighs. I wonder if she's tired of the negativity or just tired in general. "She's a mother. She's protecting her child, just like I would protect you or any one of your sisters."

"Yeah, but the difference is you never hit us. You didn't leave us to raise ourselves while you were binge drinking after your husband died."

"No, that's true. But I never had to go through that pain either. Your father is alive and well and I have no idea how I might have reacted if he had died."

"You're strong, Mom. I have no doubt that you would have handled it ten thousand times better than Dr. Grey."

Mom wraps her arm around my shoulder. "Maybe. Maybe not. But what really matters is I have five amazing children, all of whom I'm immensely proud of."

"You're proud of me, even now?"

"Especially now. Not everyone would have saved that girl."

"I couldn't leave her," I say quietly.

Mom smiles. "I know, because I raised you to be the kind of person who saves a woman from being raped. I'm just as much at fault in all of this as you are."

Before I respond, Dad opens the door and rejoins us in the living room. He seems surprisingly more upbeat than he had been just moments before. "Gary thinks this will really help us."

"How?" Mom and I ask at the same time.

"Ellis threatened you. She used her daughter as the bait. Her actions are questionable and make me wonder how long she knew you were keeping Meredith in this apartment. And why did she wait so long to expose the secret? It's curious, that's for sure, and I think a judge would find it strange as well."

"But I can still go to jail for a year."

"For up to a year. Most cases like this are resolved in court with some community service. You could be back at Colombia next Thursday."

"And what if I am sentenced to a year in prison?"

Dad looks to Mom. Panic glides across their features.

"Seriously. What if I'm charged?"

"We'll work on an appeal. We'll get your sentence reduced," Dad assures me.

"But it'll always be on my record."

"Derek," Dad says with surprising calm, maybe to keep me from freaking out. "Harboring a runaway, a minor especially, is a federal offense. It's not a misdemeanor." I shake my head. I know all this. "That kind of offense, whether you're proven guilty or not, will always be on your record."

"I know."

Dad runs his palm over his rough cheek. "If you're charged, we'll do everything we can to help. And when you return to school, maybe you should consider a Doctors Without Borders plan. Doing something like that would certainly boost your resume and might even deter employers from dawdling too much on your arrest."

"So I'm screwed, essentially."

"You're not screwed," Mom says. "It's just a little more complicated now."

"Gary thinks we have a shot. Even though this will be on your record, if you don't get charged it won't be nearly as bad. We just need to make your case as strong as possible. Gather some character references and remind everyone how clean your record was before this. And maybe Ellis's daughter could say something in your defense."

"No. Don't drag Meredith into this," I bite.

"But Derek, it could—"

"I've been told to not contact her. If she gives a statement, they'll lock me away anyway. Leave Meredith out of this."

"But honey, if—" Mom begins.

"No!" I snap. "I'll win this without Meredith.

Mom and Dad look to each other again. I'm suddenly feeling exhausted.

"I'm tired. We have a week until the hearing. Can we talk about this later?"

"Fine. But I'm going to set up a meeting with you and Gary tomorrow. Somewhere around here," he clarifies. It feels ten times worse to have my parents know about my geographical restraints as well.

I don't have the attention span to juggle my emotions any longer, so I say goodbye to my parents, promising to meet Gary at Starbucks tomorrow, and I climb into my bed which still smells of Meredith.

For the next hour, I stare at the ceiling. I study the pot marks and scuffs, wondering how they ended up there. I study the dust gathering on my ceiling fan and over the door jams. Did Meredith notice these flaws and find my housekeeping disgusting? Did she notice the leaky handle in the bathroom or the way the kitchen sink never fully drains? Did she care that the living room sloped so that the couch never really stayed in place? Did she hate the feeling of my cotton sheets? Did she hate the smell of my shampoo?

What about now? Does she still think about my sloping living room and faulty sink? Or is she too focused on her new home, which is probably shiny and bright?

I feel a depression creeping back over me.

My front door opens. "Derek?" Mark calls.

I sit up and my stomach drops. He's just seen Meredith. I rush from my room and into the living room; I probably look crazy.

Mark hands me an envelope. "She's okay."

"What did she say?" My heart is racing so fast, I can barely think.

"Not much. She had to sneak me in through the freight elevator and only had a few minutes to talk. She wanted you to know she's fine, but she misses you." Mark scowls, probably because the drama of it all is too much for his black heart.

"She's okay?"

Mark nods. "Yeah. No lumps, no bruises. Her mom's around a lot, but she's sober and keeping her hands to herself." Mark motions to the envelope. "She wanted you to read it. I guess she explains some stuff."

I flip open the envelope. "What stuff?"

"No idea. She didn't say. She just told me to make sure you read it right away."

I pull sheets upon sheets of white lined paper out from the envelope. Hi Derek, it starts.

"I'm not sticking around for this. Call me later."

I nod, unable to look away from the letter.

"See you buddy."

I sit down on the couch and begin to read.