Hello everyone! It's been a while, but for once I have a real excuse. My town was pretty devastated by Hurricane Sandy and the snow storm which hit last week and I just was able to return to my home yesterday. We have power (finally) and I've finally been able to assess the damage. Luckily, my house is pretty much okay, but I have neighbors who have lost everything. It's been a rough road, especially being so unprepared for storms like this, but things are getting better. I hope none of you were affected by the storm. And I thank you for your patience!

As always, thank you for your comments. This chapter is kind of an eye opener, and I hope you like it. I'm happy/sad to say this story is coming to an end. If my plans work out as they should, there will be two more updates and a epilogue, and I'll be finished before Christmas. I'm looking forward to writing the finale of this!

Thanks again. Enjoy!

Hi Derek,

I'm so worried about you. Mark says you've been spending most of your time at home, and that you're okay, but I hate not being able to talk to you. I know this is against the rules, but I just can't spend another minute not explaining everything to you. There's so much I have to tell you.

I'm back in school. I'm enrolled at Brearley. It's an all girls school, which is fine by me. I'm not there to socialize. I just need to finish my degree. My guidance counselor says my "indiscretion" for the last few months of my junior year will be wiped clean and I'll graduate in May. Of course my mom is now obsessed with my future and keeps talking about colleges. She expects me to go to Harvard, Princeton, or Yale. It's all she talks about. I don't even know what I want to do yet, but she swears I'll be something important. Whatever that means.

Besides bringing home pamphlets from colleges and signing me up for university newsletters, my mom is fine. I can tell she's just happy to have me back, so she's not complaining or yelling at me about anything. I'm not trying to push the envelope or anything, but regular things, like not hanging up my towel after a shower and leaving my shoes by the front door—which used to drive her nuts—are fine now. I think she'll let me see you even. Especially when this whole court thing is over.

Mom won't tell me anything, but Mark says you're due in court next Wednesday. I want to testify for you. I don't know how to go about it without my mom finding out until I'm on the stand, but I'll figure something out. I'm not going to sit by and let the judge think you did anything wrong. We both know without you I probably would have ended up dead. It's the least I can do for you after everything, and I know you won't want me to, but I'm doing this for us Derek, not just for you.

I can't believe how much I miss you. It's only been a few days, but it feels like weeks and weeks. I hated thinking of you in jail, alone, on Monday. Was it terrible? I was so scared for you. Scared you would be put in a cell with someone else. Mark says you were alone, which is good, but I'm still so sorry it happened. I can't believe my mom stooped so low. She might be trying to get on my good side by acting involved and caring, but I'm still not speaking to her. I won't speak to her until I can see you again.

My mom's not all bad, though. I think she just really wanted me to graduate high school. Staying with you didn't bother her; it was the fact that I couldn't go to school while I stayed with you because I was hiding and all that. She cares in that sense. She cares in other ways too.

Speaking of my mom, There are some things I have to tell you.

When I ran, I was alone. Alex couldn't come with me yet and I was scared a lot of the time. You were the first person I trusted on the road, but I met a lot of people along the way. The first few people I met thought I was spoiled and foolish for running. I told them the truth and they all rolled their eyes. So that's why I started to lie. And I'm so sorry I ever started it. I'm so sorry Derek.

My mom isn't an alcoholic. She never was. The first person I told the lie to believed me and she didn't judge me for running. She actually related to my story. I stayed with her for days, when previously it was barely hours with the people who judged me. After a few more people, the lies came more frequently. More easily. But I'm telling you the truth now because I want you to know everything. I want you to know that my past might be stretched and molded differently than it actually happened, but the person I am—the person who loves you—is the same.

When my dad died, I didn't take it well. I know you have your suspicions, but my dad did commit suicide. I don't know why, but he did. I never got along with my mom. I guess I always wanted a mom that held my hand as I walked across the street as a child; I wanted a mom who would make me egg salad sandwiches and put ribbons in my hair. She was never like that. Mom was too busy with her career and her patients, and everything else. So my dad was my rock. You know all of this, I know, but it's important for you to understand where I'm coming from. It's important to me.

My dad dying ruined so much for me. It ruined my childhood. I started spending my time with Izzie and Cristina. They both had tough living situations too, so we went out a lot. When we were thirteen, we started hanging out at this park in Boston. We'd take the bus down there and watch the boys playing basketball. That's how we met Alex. While Izzie, Cristina, and I were still so sheltered and reserved, Alex was free. He had been abused by his father for years and he was heavy into drugs and alcohol at that time. I started drinking with Alex and we spent every weekend together wasted. Cristina and Izzie weren't into it. Not yet at least, so I pulled away from them and became wrapped up in Alex.

Then Alex's dad sent him to boarding school in New Jersey. I ran away two weeks later. It took my mom only 12 hours to find me. I was grounded for months. I think I was depressed sitting in that big house by myself.

I finally saw Alex in January that year. He'd cleaned up. I hadn't. But after a few hours together, we were drinking and smoking and laughing. I don't want you to think Alex is a bad guy. He's not. We were just bad together. We brought out the worst in each other.

Mom tried to keep me happy. She always told me to invite Izzie and Cristina over, but they still weren't talking to me. It wasn't until after our sophomore year that we became friends again.

Izzie's dad died that year, just like mine had and just like Cristina's had. We were all part of the dead dad's club. Cristina sought me out and just seeing Izzie like that brought me back to reality. We had all been best friends for years and I had let my bad habits ruin that. I didn't drink after that. Maybe once or twice. But not really. Not until Mark's party, at least. And we both know how that could have ended if you hadn't stopped me.

At this time, my mom wasn't working. She had been head of general at Boston Gen, but had left after my dad died. She'd penned a few books, but the rest of the time she was chasing me around. For the first time in my life, the mom I wanted existed. She spent time worrying about me and putting my needs first. She would call me when I was off with Alex and ask me to come home to eat my favorite meal. But I resented her. She had ruined everything. If she hadn't been such a shitty wife and mother, my dad wouldn't be dead and I would be happy. So I started telling my friends she had a drinking problem—probably to move the focus from my problems.

My mom did hit me once, though. I didn't lie about that. Just before I ran away, things got bad again. Alex was back for winter break, and we weren't drinking, but we were spending a lot of time together. I'll spare you the details, but at that point I thought I might be pregnant. I wasn't—thankfully—but my mom found the test and she freaked. We were fighting about that and about me being drunk, and she hit me. I said horrible things to her. Things I'm ashamed of. I deserved it. But something in me snapped. I couldn't stay there. Just like Alex is bad for me, so is my mother.

Besides my dad, you might be the best person for me.

Which is why I'm telling you all of this. I lied in the beginning because I thought you were just another stop along the way. But then you kissed me. And you found me in D.C. And I wanted to admit it all to you. I wanted to make sure you knew all about me, but it never seemed like the right time. I would have told you on the beach, but you had just seen me at my worst and I didn't want you to be disappointed. I know it's an excuse, and maybe a bad one, but I needed you to not look at me like my mom does. I needed you to love me. And I was afraid you wouldn't if you knew the truth.

My mom isn't a monster. She's a bad wife and mother, but she didn't neglect me. Not when it mattered most. She tried. But by then I was so angry with her, I couldn't take her mothering. I still can't, but I need to finish my degree, so if this is the way to do it, I will. I'll stay with her until I graduate, and then I'll never see her again. Just like I can't see Alex again. We're broken—all three of us—and I need someone whole.

I need you.

I'm afraid that you'll never want to see me again. You don't like lies. I know this. But you have to know I love you. I fell in love with you forever ago. I didn't want to lie to you, but I honestly never expected it to become this. I never expected to stay with you for so long and to depend on you for so much. I appreciate everything you've done for me.

So because I love you and because I've been so guilty for lying since I realized I loved you, I'm testifying on your behalf. You will not go to jail for me. I won't allow it.

Derek, you're the best person I know. You're so generous and warm. You protect everyone you know. You're kind and patient and so loving. You changed me. You said that I saved you after we made love, but the only reason I was able to save you is because you saved me—you saved my body, my heart, and my soul.

Please, please try to understand where I'm coming from. I never meant to hurt you.

I love you.

Your Meredith

\\\

I stare at the words on the page. And then I stare out the window. I pace my apartment. I check the clock on the stove. I read the letter again. I wash my hands. I eat an apple. I read the letter again. I sneeze. I yawn. I read the letter again. I lie down. I read the letter again. And again. And again. And again. My eyes grow tired, so I close them. I can see her words scrolling through my mind. But then I remember her words…the night on the roof. I remember her lies.

My mom started drinking that night. I guess it took a while before she was a full-fledged alcoholic, but she drank and drank and drank, most the time until she passed out on the couch or at the kitchen table or in the shower.

My head begins to hurt.

My mom literally did nothing but drink, eat, and sleep—in that order. She barely even looked at me in the last year.

My stomach turns.

She 'retired' only three months after he died. We were living on her pension and his life insurance, but the house is too expensive and the bills are too frequent.

My mouth goes dry.

I stand up and rip the letter in half. I grab my phone and my keys, and I slam my door shut behind me.

The subway doesn't go directly to the east side, so I cut across the Village towards the 4, 5, 6 line. I call Mark while I'm at it and ask for Meredith's address. It pisses me off that I don't even know my own girlfriend's address, which just ignites another spark inside me. I keep my voice level on the phone, trying to hide the fact that I've never been this angry. I tell Mark I want to mail her a letter. He offers to drop it off, but I insist. He finally gives me the address and I hang up without saying goodbye. He texts me, but I ignore it. I practically run down the subway steps and hop onto the 6.

I take the subway to Lexington, right near the park, and walk three blocks to Ellis's apartment. The building is graceful, taking up an entire block with rounded French windows and cast-iron railings along the balconies. The front doors are painted bright red and a doorman greets me with a tip of his hat. The building is much like Mark's on the other side of the park; old, elegant, and regal, and perfectly outfitted for a doctor of Ellis Grey's caliber.

Since I first learned Ellis was Meredith's mother, and Meredith lied about her mother's drinking problem, I've hated this woman more than anything else. I've daydreamed about her leaving Meredith alone for the rest of her life. I've dreamed about her falling off the face of the earth. I've even wished her dead, once or twice, when Meredith seemed particularly low. But it all is such a sham. Ellis tried. Meredith even admitted that her mother tried to make it all right. Even if Meredith's dad did kill himself because of Ellis, it doesn't mean Meredith should have lied to me for so long.

I mean, we had sex for god's sake.

"Sir? Sir?"

Someone grabs my arm. It's the doorman.

"We need you to check in at the front desk, sir."

The woman behind the desk looks irritated. I don't even think about Ellis being home. I don't care if she's there. I have to talk to Meredith, even if I have to stand on the sidewalk and yell up to her window. I cross the lobby in three steps, "I'm here to see Meredith Grey."

"Which apartment is she?"

I don't know which apartment, but the look on this woman's face makes me think I have to. So I lie. "The penthouse." It's Ellis Grey; she lives in the penthouse.

She looks at a computer screen and then back to me. "Does Miss Grey know you're here?"

"Yes."

The woman picks up the phone and dials. Quietly, she says, "Miss Grey, there's a man here to see you." She listens and then looks at me, "Your name sir?"

"Derek."

"Derek, miss."

The conversation ends quickly. The woman offers me a kind smile—now that she knows I'm not trying to break in. "The top floor, sir."

I ride the elevator with an attendant. He tries to make polite conversation, but I'm seeing stars in my eyes from the anger. I give him a gruff, "Excuse me," and I pretend to text—looking very important. Just as the elevator reaches the top floor, my stomach plummets. The irrational side of me is excited to see Meredith, but the rational remembers what she did. I went to jail for her lies.

The doors open and Meredith is standing there in a pair of black shorts, a purple tee-shirt, and her blond hair pulled up into a ponytail. She looks bright and warm and refreshed. She looks happy. The doors shut behind me and Meredith takes a tentative step in my direction. I allow myself the moment to drink her in. She looks beautiful. It almost physically hurts to see her.

And then she's in my arms. Meredith folds herself into me and presses her nose to my throat. "What are you doing here?" she whispers softly, with a mix of awe and fear. "You'll get in trouble."

Feeling her…smelling her…hearing her…it melts my resolve. I want nothing more than to just enjoy this moment.

But then I remember her letter.

And I pull away.

Meredith's arms drop to her side and her eyes fill with worry. And then understanding. She wraps her arms around her middle and looks to the floor. "You got my letter."

"Yes."

"Derek, I—"

I wait for her to say something else—say something to defend herself. But she doesn't. She looks up at me, blinks, and looks away. "What Meredith?"

She worries her bottom lip. "You hate me."

I wonder if I do, for a second. It's ridiculous though, the idea of hating her. I can't comfort her, but I can tell her the truth. "No, I don't." She looks at me. "But I don't like you very much right now."

"I'm sorry, Derek. I really, really am."

"You lied to me for months."

"I know, and I wish I hadn't."

I shake my head. "But you did. You knowingly made me worry about you, constantly. Do you know how sick to my stomach I was when I thought you'd be returning to a house with a woman who is an alcoholic? I thought she'd hit you again or worse. I thought she'd lock you up and throw away the key. Yet, I come to find out that you lied to me."

"Not about everything," she defends.

"No, that's true. She did hit you." It hurts to think that the worst part of the story might actually be true. "I'm sorry for that. No one deserves to be hit. Ever."

Meredith walks towards me. "Derek, I wanted to tell you the truth a thousand times. You deserved to know everything, but it never seemed right and I thought we'd have enough time."

"You let me go to jail." Meredith stops in her tracks. "You were afraid to be with your mother, so you stayed. You could have gone home. She said we could've seen each other, but now I'm probably going to jail for months because…what? Because you had to keep up with your lie? Keep appearances? Why Meredith?" I almost yell.

She flinches. "I was afraid she wouldn't let me see you."

"So jail is the better option?"

"Of course not! But you're not going to jail. They'll let you off."

"Let me off for what Meredith? The charges are harboring a runaway. I kept you in my apartment for months, as a secret, while you're mother gave interviews in the newspaper! I hid you. I'm guilty. There's no getting off for me. I will go to jail, because you faked years of misery with your mom. You needed someone to blame. And then you made me your scapegoat!"

"No I didn't! I fell in love with you!" she says as she begins to cry.

I feel guilty, for a second, for causing her tears, but then I remember I'm not the cause.

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I was afraid."

"Of what?"

Meredith wipes at her face. "Of your reaction! I knew you'd be mad, even after I came back from D.C., so I didn't tell you. I couldn't. I knew you'd hate me."

"When were you going to tell me?"

"Soon."

I look away from her, too angry to focus. I pace from the elevator door, to the end of the hallway, and back, trying to keep calm. I want so much to just leave. I'll be locked up for at least three months and maybe after that time, the anger will disappear. Maybe I'll look past it and remember how good it once felt to be in love with her.

When I turn to pace again, Meredith stands in my way. She's still crying. "I wanted you to know everything about me. The good, the bad, everything. I trusted you with it all."

"Don't you dare turn this around on me."

"I'm not." Her voice is thick with misery. "I'm trying to explain. I haven't been able to trust anyone in a very long time. Not my friends, not Alex, and certainly not my mom. And then I met you. And you were wonderful to me. You were—are—the kind of guy anyone would want. We weathered the storm together, so I thought you might understand why I did what I did. Why I lied. I didn't mean to hurt or deceive you; I meant to finally open up to you."

"But you didn't do that Meredith. You did hurt me and you did deceive me. And for what? You're finishing school because you're mom cares enough to make sure you do. You had a father who loved you and a mother who—despite the years of neglect—stepped up to the plate when you needed her, but you wouldn't listen. I don't get you Meredith."

She bursts into a fresh round of tears and turns away from me. Everything inside me screams in pain—for her, for me. We had so much, only to lose it all. I'm a felon and Meredith is a troubled seventeen-year-old who runs away whenever life gets too difficult.

I walk to the elevator and press the down button. I'm tired. I have court in a week and after that, I'll know. I'll know if I'll walk free and continue on, without Meredith, or if I'll be put away.

At least the outcome will be the truth.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers.

I turn to Meredith and shake my head. "I could have handled the truth, even if it was bad. It's the lying I can't take."

The elevator reaches the floor. "Don't bother testifying for me," I say and step in, waiting for the doors to shut.

I allow myself to cry, just for a minute, while the elevator slides down. I don't just cry for Meredith and my demise. I cry for the time I'll be losing while I pay for my crime. I cry for the tarnish I'll give my family name, and the title—felon—I'll carry for the rest of my life. By the time we reach the lobby, I can tell the elevator attendant is happy to see me go. I wipe away my pain and walk directly into Ellis Grey as she tries to board the elevator.

For a second, I wonder how much trouble I'm about to get in. Ellis might not be an alcoholic, but she's still the same woman who stopped by my apartment and threatened me. She still hates me and is probably reveling in the fact that I'm about to be put off the streets for a while.

But as I stare at the woman who has given her looks to her daughter, I don't see malice. Or maybe I hope to not see malice, which causes me to see it anyway.

"You're not supposed to be here," she says simply.

I nod, "I know."

"Will you come get a coffee with me?"

I say yes, probably from fear.

Ellis and I walk to the Starbucks across the street, where she orders a black coffee without cream and sugar and I order the same—intimidated to order much else. We sit at a table towards the back, where only a man on a laptop and a woman crying over a Kindle reside. Ellis stares at me.

"Did you break up with her?"

"Why?"

"Because you've been crying. I can only assume you ended it. I doubt she would. All she does is stare at her phone—as if you're about to call any second. So why did you break up with her?"

I stare at the coffee in my hands, hoping something will come up from the ground and swallow me whole. "She lied to me."

"I told you she was lying to you."

My head snaps up.

"You were so certain that I was a monster, but I knew she'd tell you the truth eventually. How'd she do it? Did she write you a note?"

"Yes."

"I'm not a saint, Derek, but I'm certainly not a bad person. Much like my daughter, I handle things wrong sometimes—like when I came to your apartment on Friday and threatened you. I'm sorry for that. Just knowing that Meredith wanted to stay with you over me… well, it was upsetting. My instinct was to go on the defensive. All I wanted was my daughter back."

"Then why did you call the police on me?"

Ellis shakes her head. "I didn't."

"If you didn't then who did?"

"Your landlord. I spoke to my friend at the precinct and he said he received a call from your landlord Saturday afternoon about a runaway minor in your apartment. He saw the missing persons flyer I posted around the city when I first took the job at Sinai, and he thought you were keeping her against her will. He was looking out for Meredith."

"Can you get the charges dropped?"

Ellis shakes her head. "I didn't press them, so no. The matter is between you and the state of New York."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Of course it is. So I'm just going to go to jail then."

"I wouldn't have pressed charges," she says, avoiding my statement. "Meredith would have never spoken to me again."

"Yeah, well she probably won't talk to me again."

"My daughter has a lot of admirable qualities—mostly from her father—but she can be very stubborn."

I'm reminded of Meredith's dad and his death. Could it really be true that he committed suicide—even though he knew Ellis was a terrible mother? Would he really leave his daughter so easily? I will probably never have a chance to ask Ellis again, so I do: "What happened to Meredith's dad?"

Ellis sighs, as if she'd known it was coming. "He was very unhappy. Meredith doesn't remember any of that because she was young—just thirteen. Thatch had always been an unhappy person; he'd been through a lot. When we got married, we both thought having a family would be best for him. I was never sure if I wanted children—my career was always going to be my first priority—but Thatch wanted a child. He was more nurturing than me. When I got pregnant we were both happy and then Meredith took to Thatch so quickly. I didn't feel as guilty working thirty-six hour shifts knowing that she was taken care of. But time passed and Thatch wasn't doing well. It wasn't Meredith's fault, of course—it wasn't anyone's—but he just couldn't take it.

"He started seeing a therapist when Meredith was four. He was doing well for a while, and then he lost his job at Boston University and he sunk into a deep depression. Thatcher was heavily medicated at the time, but he was so forgetful—he wouldn't take his medicine for days on end. The day he died, he left me a note. It wasn't easy to read; his head was in such a strange place, but he told me to remind Meredith that he loved her. He couldn't do it anymore, he'd said. Every day was too painful and he didn't want to ruin Meredith's life with his misery. I've never told Meredith any of this because she loves her father so much. He was her hero and he died because his life—including her—was too difficult to bear. Which is why I've always allowed Meredith to paint me as the bad guy. She needs someone to hate, and she always has anyway.

"I love my daughter, Derek, but I'm afraid I'll never be enough for her."

"Then why did you hit her?"

Ellis hangs her head and for once I think I see shame on her face. "I didn't mean to. She was being terrible, yelling at me and hoping that I'd die. She was drunk and ranting and raving, calling me a murderer and saying that I was the most miserable person she'd ever met. I was hurt and angry—it was almost Thatch's birthday—and I snapped. I can never make up for that, even if she had let me try."

"She lied to me for months. I'm going to jail because of her."

"Meredith may have lied to you, but you are going to jail because of you. You didn't take Meredith in because she had parental issues; you took her in because even in the beginning you were falling for her. You saw her as someone you can save, so you did."

"I just wish she would have trusted me with the truth."

"She did, once she knew you were trustworthy."

"So it took me being thrown in jail to prove I was trustworthy?"

Ellis shrugs and sips her coffee, "Not necessarily, but it was the most loving, impressive thing anyone has ever done for her. And trust me Derek, Meredith hasn't allowed herself to feel loved in a long, long time."

It feels like everything stops around me. My heart, the room, the earth. All of a sudden, I feel like I really have lost everything.

"Dr. Grey, I need—"

"Come on, Derek."

We leave the Starbucks, tossing our nearly untouched coffee on the way, and Ellis leads me back into her building. When we board the elevator, Ellis says, "I'll give you five minutes, Derek. She's still my daughter, and I won't have you having sex under my roof."

The attendant looks at us, but I'm too focused to care.

When the doors open, Ellis unlocks the front door and points me towards Meredith's bedroom. "Five minutes," she reminds me.

I rush down the hall, not even taking in my surroundings, and pause at the last door. I can hear her sniffling. She's been crying the entire time. I don't knock; I open the door, causing Meredith to sit up alert. "I'm sorry." She wipes at her face. "You had your reasons for lying and if I were you I probably wouldn't have even told you the right name either."

"You're the only person I did tell the right name to."

I smile and step further into her room, shutting the door behind me. "I get jealous of your friendship with Mark," I admit. "And I want to be a neurosurgeon. I don't like ice cream, but I love the gelato from that place across the street from my apartment. I want to adopt a dog. I hate soda. I'm afraid that my parents' have put too much pressure on me and that I'll fail them miserably. I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. And I love you. And if there was anyone in the world I'd go to jail for, it'd be you."

Meredith breaks into a smile, which I take as an invitation. I cross her room and pull her into my arms. I kiss her without thought, without pause, and without restraint. I kiss her with no regard for anything, not even breathing, because I might not be able to do so for months. I kiss her until she understands how much I love her and until I understand how much she loves me.

"I'm sorry, Meredith," I say again.

"I'm sorry, too. I'm a mess, but you make me better."

"You're not a mess; you're a teenager. It comes with the territory." I kiss her again.

"Let me testify for you," Meredith pleads.

I tuck her hair behind her ears and kiss from cheek to cheek and then forehead to chin. Ellis opens the door, so I pull away, but very slowly—to savor the moment. "Derek should go before the police find out he's here."

"Mom, we have to do something."

Ellis looks at her daughter. She smiles, and I wonder if those are Meredith's first words to her mother since she returned. "We'll talk. Derek," she steps back to let me pass.

I turn back to Meredith one last time and kiss her, right in front of her mom. "I'll write to you."

She nods. "I love you."

"I know." I kiss her again and follow Ellis out of the apartment.