Years—a lifetime—of hanging around in emergency rooms had shown Meredith how quickly calm could transform into chaos, but the actuality of it astonished her every time.
She'd been lying on the bed with BeeZ; Bailey was napping, so she and Zola had headphones: Zola watching Sesame Street on the iPad, and Meredith listening to music on her phone. She'd forgotten how much it helped; not just having an additional voice, but a rhythm that kept her mind from going too far off the rails. It added a step to the bridge between her comfort being alone at home for most of her life, and now.
Halfway through carrying Bay upstairs, Miranda had called, "You're coming up next, Grey. Don't pretend you don't need it."
Meredith had scowled. Fine, waking up at three hadn't been great, but she'd have been okay without Miranda at her elbow through her PT session. She'd wanted to snap the resistance bands at her when Greg had grinned at her mentor and said, "Now that I know what you respond to, we can really do some work Friday."
GREAT she'd written once she could sit down.
U'LL HEAR WHAT I HAVE 2 SAY ABT IT.
"You make that clear, Dr. Grey. But then you do it, which makes you one of my best clients."
"Puh," Miranda had said, once he'd left. "Clients."
IF WE CLD AFFORD IT
DER WLD BUY THE AGENCY OUT
JUST 2 MAKE THEM STOP THAT
"Careful," Miranda had said, narrowing her eyes at Artemis, who'd been chewing on a rope toy on the couch beside Meredith.
Rather than joining her and the puppy outside while Bailey napped, Zola had declared "Someone awake has to stay with Momma."
Meredith had put her music on shuffle. The Lissy Tapes had given her was an appreciation for what'd come next. That she'd been there to experience it; the sweaty mosh-pits, the sickly color of glow-sticks from the night before, the times she'd ended up manning a make-shift first-aid corner, and all.
The only way she knew she'd fallen asleep was that in one moment Alanis had been calling Uncle Joey to the carpet, and in the next Kurt Cobain was howling in her ears.
"Hate me.
Do it, and do it again,
Waste me—"
She ripped the headphones off, but she could still hear him. "That Nirvana song. You know the one. Nah-nah-nah-nah."
Her lungs weren't inflating. Every time she blinked she expected to see Maggie standing over her, the needle in her hand the only sign of what was about to happen.
Maggie's wasn't the face she could see. It was Zola's.
No, that wasn't right. Zola couldn't see this. Meredith looked around, desperately, only seeing Bay sitting up on her other side, red-faced and confused. "Mama crying?"
"I think her hurts hurt. I'm going to get Aunt Bailey. You Bailey, stay. It's okay, Mommy. I'll be right back." Zola's lips smacked against Meredith's cheek, and then she was scrambling to the floor in a flurry of limbs.
Bailey obeyed, putting his skill at getting as close to her as possible to use. He's just sleepy, she thought. With her forehead propped on her hand, she could just see his face as he wiggled his head under her sling and onto her lap.
"Peekboo," he said, in the most matter-of-fact way anyone had ever delivered the line. Then, he yawned.
Poor, sweet baby. He deserved a mom who could hold him. Who wouldn't interrupt his nap freaking out over a song that he wasn't old enough to hear. Would never be.
No. She wasn't going to shelter her kids. The lyrics weren't meant to be taken literally. She knew that twenty years ago; it was assholes like—"Who was I without my sister?"
She didn't want to hear him. He'd been the last thing she'd heard for weeks; she didn't want him in her head. Derek had said things that morning. McDreamy things. Why couldn't she hear any of them? She fumbled for her phone, tugging it up by the headphone cord, and then yanking at the jack to disconnect them. Why did every fucking thing she needed to do—
A tiny fist wrapped around the wire. "Can puwl?"
Meredith remembered trying to predict her mother's every need. She'd been five, not two. She…. Kids want to help. "Mmhmm."
Bailey smiled with his whole face as the metal popped out. She twisted to get the fingers of her left hand threaded into his hair. With her other hand, she tapped the phone screen. Her own gasps made her aim inexact, and without the PopSocket thing, she would've dropped it. She could hear Zola returning by the time she finally found what she wanted.
Artemis bounded into the room and onto the bed, putting her paws up on Meredith's good shoulder to check her out.
"—on the ferry. I-I just wanted to say that, um… God, I wish you could see this. Weather's classic Seattle. The water is so blue. It may be the most perfect ferryboat ride I've ever had in my life."
Zola appeared, kneeling on the bed, a hand on each of Meredith's knees. "Here, Aunt Bailey. No, wait!"
"—but I just wanted to say I love you."
Zola disappeared from Meredith's sight momentarily, and then almost whacked her with the white board as she swiveled back. She set it in front of her, carefully lining it up with her outstretched left leg, and putting the eraser beside it. "There!"
"We're gonna do this a lot more now that I'm home, by the way, you, me, and the family."
The high-pitched voices from Sesame Street were still streaming from Zola's headphones. Meredith's head swam, and she closed her eyes.
"I think she hurt a hurt while she was 'sleep, and it made a bad dream. You're a give medicine doctor, right?"
"I am. Grey, are you in pain?"
"She says 'no.' That's what that means, do you know signs?"
Did Zola know Meredith had bad dreams, or was that easy little kid logic? She should tell Miranda to take the kids out. It was selfish to want them with her the way she did—"Get her out of here!" That wasn't what she wanted, either.
"—I love our family. And we're gonna keep doing this. I'll see you when I get home. I love you." Derek's voice went silent, and Meredith's throat tightened again. She tried to inhale through her nose, and only managed to choke.
"Ah ha. Wire cutters. Avery's taking those off tomorrow. I can save him some work. You're not being a hero here."
"That's 'okay.' Oh! Daddy looks at this to take care of her." Zola handed over the iPad. A second later, the TV show stopped playing. The next time Meredith breathed in, it worked.
"Thank you, sweetheart. You know, your mom's doing a lot better. Soon that cast will come off her arm, and she'll be able to talk—"
"Yeah, Ariel gets her voice back."
"That's right, she does," Miranda confirmed. She looked up from the iPad at the same moment Meredith opened her eyes.. "Meredith Grey, do you understand what every four-to-six means?"
"She says, 'yes, yes, yes.'"
"I bet she does. I know I've been here at least eight hours; I thought you could tell time, Grey. And hear…shouldn't there be…the alarm's muted. When's your birthday, again? April? '79? No, '78, there we go. Zola, do you remember how Ariel loses her voice?"
"Ursula takes it. Her design is based on a...a dressed…dragged-up queen, and she shoulda been allowed to live with the other mermaids. That's not a 'scuse for being mean or tricking Ariel to marry a guy she doesn't even know."
"Grey, have you tried just not showing her the movie?"
"I watched it at Sofi's. She has all the princess movies, and the Land Before Times, and The Karate Kid. We have Muppets, and Star Wars, and Sesame Street, and Grandma Ellis's surgeries."
"I see. Well, when the sea-witch takes her voice, that's a pretty scary scene, isn't it? It'd be very scary for Ariel.—Saline, Grey—Do you think she'd be scared to swim in the dark waters again?"
"Ursula gets in trouble with Ariel's daddy. But if could there be another sea-witch?"
"There's always another sea-witch," Miranda murmured. "But sometimes that doesn't matter. Sometimes, just being reminded of being hurt can be scary. Pushing the meds now."
"Like the bell?" Zola frowned. "Daddy got scared when his daddy died? I know he got hurt enough to die. What am I, three? But…Daddy got scared at the shoe store? I coulda told him 'it's okay. It's not scary.' We left so fast! We pulled a one-neighty! Does the medicine make you not be scared, Momma?"
She was spinning. She wasn't spinning-spinning, but she was. She felt like a top that had been spun and was drifting from one side of a table-top to the other. She could breathe, but she couldn't breathe. There was too much.
Miranda secured the IV line and put a hand on her shoulder. "Tuck knows all about my pills. He's seen me scrub my hands raw. What scares them is seeing and thinking they can't ask."
She'd told her she could always ask questions. She'd told herself she wouldn't make exceptions like her mother had.
"Yes. You help, too. Your brother, your dad."
"Artie?"
"Yes," she agreed, as the puppy perked up at her name. "She's helping now."
Zola nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Aunt Bailey?"
"Yes ma'am?"
"Momma is a hero. She's a surgeon."
"That's true," Miranda said. "You remind her of that. It can be hard to remember what you're good at if you don't feel well."
"When I got Sofi's rhinosarus virius, I didn't wanna color or try my letters."
"Exactly. Rumor has it you're getting to be a very good reader."
"Yeah, I'm a-spansed. Momma teachers me even without talking." Miranda raised her eyebrows at Meredith, who put a shaking hand on Zola's back. She could just remember telling Richard excitedly that she'd "read that in-stuffer-able cat book by myself."
Zola leaned against Meredith's bent legs. With Bailey sprawled over her lap and Artie at her side, she was as crowded as she'd been that morning. It didn't feel remotely the same. With her hand on Zola's chest made easing her breathing into the same rhythm was natural.
While Miranda recorded her vitals on the iPad—unnecessarily, in Meredith's opinion—she wrote: U EVR REGRET NOT SWITCHING 2 PEDS?
"Hm. I don't regret why I gave it up. If I'd had my ex-husband's support…but he never understood my job. I already had patients who were kids. I had my own child. I'd been hoping old dinosaur Margaret Campbell would retire, and she did it right on time. I like seeing a variety of bodies, even if I'm mostly doing ex-laps on 'em. And marrying Ben means seeing that opportunity doesn't always lock the door. Six years ago, who knew he'd be a resident? If I'd opened that door, I'd be working under Alex Karev, which is something I'm not sure I could take." Meredith snickered.
"Truth be told, I considered a position up by my parents after the shooting, but I didn't take to their department. That's important to me. Richard got my best work from me back when he had me shaking in my scrubs, and working with you might not be the worst thing I've ever done." Miranda's side-eyed smile was something Meredith hadn't managed to mimic. Derek might say her eyes sparkled, but they didn't do it in the right way. "At the time, I wasn't sure what to make of Robbins. I didn't understand how she could be that open and bubbly, and then detach. Now I've seen that's just one way folks get through it. She turned out to have more grit than I anticipated. A lot more, going through all this with Herman. The babies and the woman."
Meredith nodded, fervently. B SOON. U SEEN THE SCANS?
ALMOST 2 CN2 & HYPOTHALAMUS
She whistled. "That fast? Lord. I need to believe she can hold on a little while longer. I've got this patient. Baby has a sacrococcygeal teratoma. Her husband was in a head-on, and he didn't make it off my table. She found out she was pregnant three weeks later." She held up a hand. "I do see the parallels to Tuck's birth. We're not going there today. Where do you keep those surgical videos?"
IN THE STUDY.
THERE R A FEW W/CAMPBELL
"Really now? I imagine she was an inspiration for your mother. Was that where Pierce's name came from?"
Meredith didn't blame Miranda for laughing at the muffled sound of shock she made. It brought Artemis's cold nose back to her cheek and neck.
"What about Aunt Maggie?" Zola asked.
"Her name," Meredith told her. "She shares with someone our mother knew, long-time-ago."
"Aunt Maggie's biological mother?" Before Meredith could answer, she added, "Like Bay-Bay shares your name Aunt Bailey? 'acause you surgeried Mommy?"
"Might be. Do we know if your mom named her, Grey?"
PRETTY SURE
Campbell and her mother had been pioneering general surgeons. They would've been considered the same by the men around them. Ellis claimed to despise sentimentality by the time Meredith knew the word, but there was one reason she could see Ellis associating Campbell's name with her daughter. She needed to check out that record from 1983 again. Richard hadn't been in the ER, but she didn't see who had. It could've been as simple as Margaret Campbell having sewn up Ellis's wrists and promising to keep her secret.
"I came here with my name," Zola offered. "The first one. I had Limbani. Then I got Grey Shepherd, because I belong with Momma and Daddy."
"Now that is the absolute truth," Miranda said. "Grey, you done rebooting?"
HA HA. IT IS POSSIBLE.
I'D THOUGHT…
THAT's LESS DISTURBING
"Than what?"
IT WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN ON PURPOSE.
I USED 2 CALL MOM "IRON LADY"
ALWAYS GOT A REACTION. SUITED HER.
NOT POLITICALLY. PERSONALITY.
Miranda's lips formed the words "Iron Lady" as she read them, and she brought a fist to her mouth.
SHE'D HAVE BEEN MEDICATED
& I DON'T KNOW WHEN/HOW
B/C HE DIDN'T KNOW.
B/SHE'D HAVE 2 LST THGHT OF MY FATHER.
OF THATCHER
"Oh, my. Yeah, if I were Pierce, I'd hope for Campbell. Uh-uh. Never tell Richard, but I still prefer some of her methods."
HER SPLENECTOMY? Meredith asked.
"You're asking if that's what I used on you? Why?"
RICHARD EVER SHOW YOU MOM'S JOURNALS?
"Only some of her research. What's the joke?"
CALLED HER TECHNIQUE "ADEQUATE" IN 1979.
"Your mother was in Richard's cohort? So, then, she was…?"
AN INTERN.
"Piece of work. Of course, so was Campbell. And someone else I could name."
I WASN'T THAT ARROGANT.
"No. Not yet, Dr. Fifty-One Surgery Streak. I assume you can tell me which tape I'm looking for?"
HAND ME THAT NOTEBOOK? THE 2ND ONE
In spite of the medication preventing it, Meredith's heart-rate started to rise again when Miranda's picked up the journal on top of her notebook. She hurriedly looked away, nudging Zola's head with her chin, and holding the dry-erase marker out to her. She snapped the cap on and clipped it onto the board.
The voice telling her she was taking advantage of her kid was already so much quieter. It wasn't hers. It was cleaning the apartment whenever her mother was in a mood, and still doing it under stress. It was every time she'd thought there was a reason for her low fertility. It was thinking she didn't know what a real family looked like. She did. She had one.
Bailey had fallen asleep in her lap, Meredith realized, after she'd written WHIPPLE 10.6.82, 3rd shelf down, 6th or 7th in on a page of the notebook and torn it out for Miranda—"Careful, OCD Alma will be chasing you next."— Artemis walked to the foot of the bed to watch as she went down the hall, and then turned in a circle before lying down. She scrubbed Sesame Street backward for Zola, who lay down again, her legs still touching Meredith.
With the room suddenly quiet, Meredith flipped through her notebook and found the passage she'd copied from her mother's journal long ago, and rewritten in whatever vessel she was using to keep lists. After reading it over a few times, she tore the page out.
She and the kids were the yard when she heard Derek pull up late that afternoon. The activity had started as running Artemis through the commands she knew, but it'd turned into a mix of Simon Says, What Time is it Mister Wolf, and Red Rover. They'd been deep into it by the time she realized how much it resembled her dream in the hospital, the wheelchair not that far from quicksand. But with the reality of her kids following her silent directions, the nightmare and the hospital bed couldn't have felt further away.
The puppy was by far the best at following directions, and made it to her first, sitting by her legs. Zola reached her as her father came around the side of the house, and her grin doubled when he put a finger to his lips, indicating Bailey. He'd plopped down in the grass when she'd told Artie to sit.
She pointed at the toddler. "Two big steps."
He crawled forward, and Zola doubled over giggling. "Stand up, silly!"
"Silwy, Zoie! Momma no say!"
"Stand up," she clarified, and eyed the distance between them again. "Three big, big steps." She kept her hand held up, folding down her fingers while Zola counted aloud. This put him about two yards away. She raised an eyebrow at Derek. "Jump!"
Bailey bent his knees, and before he left the ground, Derek scooped him up under the arms. He squealed, and Derek dangled him over her lap until he stopped kicking.
"Did it!" Bailey clapped giddily for himself, and she kissed the top of his head.
"Daddy helped you," Zola pointed out, seeming to take offense at her brother's failure to be literal. After the past fifteen minutes, Meredith understood, but she nudged the hand resting holding onto arm of her wheelchair. "But you did a good job!"
Derek chuckled. When he leaned over to kiss her she could smell the OR on him. It wasn't the same as a month inpatient; sterility in linens was strange, maybe because you expected it not to have a smell. The OR, where the air started clean became a mix of chemicals, latex, and lead. Cautery was it's own thing, one that disturbed some people, but to a surgeon meant that much less blood lost.
Bailey strained to get down, and a moment later he and Zola were in the mulch. Meredith signaled Artie, but "go" was the first instruction she didn't follow.
"Watching me?"
The dog didn't respond. Derek kissed her again. She'd texted him when she knew he was back on the ferry; it was the easiest way to explain. She'd ended it with "it better only be that song. Not giving Nirvana up without a fight," and she hadn't been trying to downplay anything..
"What'd you give Amelia to help you out here?"
" new J-A-N-E Brain."
He looked over at the kids. "Fair. They look like they had a good day."
"I think yes. Me too." She could see him trying not to show his surprise. "Want to show you something." She pointed to the porch. He pushed her to the steps, and then held an arm out to help her up the steps."You first," she signed once they were on the bench, her legs propped on his lap.
"Surgery was great." His grin made his delight as tangible as Bailey's, and the nonsensical feeling she'd had all day solidified. "And it went well. His chances for walking are good."
"Not everything."
"No. And I..." He ran a hand over his mouth, looking out at the kids quietly for longer than she expected. "I should've fired Nelson." She didn't know how to respond. Her hand was in his, and he needed that more than words she didn't have. "The patient…Ollie, he was... he's a kid. Walking across campus on a Tuesday night. Kissed his boyfriend goodnight. Got jumped a block later. Thinks one of the attackers might've been in his sociology study group last semester. His boyfriend played rugby, and he got so into the history of it; the way it evolved into soccer and football. Did I knew the word 'faggot' used to mean the bundles of kindling younger students at boarding schools carried while acting as servants to older ones? He said 'kindling.' Said he'd mentioned that in class, but the number of times they used the term last night could've been unrelated.
"Until that moment, I'd been looking at him as…well, I saw this blond boy, born in 1996, and...everyone saw the pictures of Matt Shepard, but if you're constantly getting asked if you're related…. I was working at a hospital in Manhattan; I'd seen beatings. Seen…." She squeezed his hand, and lifted her chin, signaling for him to say it. "Gay-bashings. I'd scrubbed in on AIDS lesions and heard what was said. Hell, I'd seen AIDS patients beaten up. People were scared; people were stupid; stupid people were scared.
"But the antiviral cocktail had started to work, and it seemed like…like people could look at him, and look at Ryan White, and realize they were both just kids who didn't deserve what they got. Seemed like there was a backlash that was going to change something. It's not that it didn't. Ollie specifically said he thought gay-bashing was something that happened 'when his mom was in college,' or he would've been more careful.
"I told him I was just one of dozens of new faces making the worst Tuesday of his life into the worst Wednesday, but it was all on them. Nothing he'd done or said justified them putting a hand on him. He asked me if I was saying hurt people hurt people." Meredith huffed. Derek smiled, ruefully. "You would've gotten along. And you could've come up with a better way to reply. What I said was maybe, but some people are just small-minded bigots. Whatever was in their heads didn't change the fact that in his experience he'd been attacked for kissing a rugby player, and that was inexcusable.
"He told me the rugby player was last semester. His current boyfriend was a Dungeon Master." Derek shook his head. The fondness in his eyes was why she loved him; he'd connected with this boy in a few hours, and it made him fight harder. "The whole time I'd been thinking about what you said about approving of a patient's life, but I…I thought of the past. I thought of twenty years from now, when it could be Bailey, or Zola.
"At some point, she will need her shunt revised, and neither Amelia nor I will be allowed to do it. I didn't think it would matter to me if Nelson did; he's got the skill. His results are predictable. He'd have an interest in not letting anything happen to my kid. If there's no one else, that's fine. But I'd rather have someone whose motive is giving this smart, funny girl, who's adopted, and Black, and whatever else she is that we don't know yet, the best Thursday possible."
Meredith tugged on his arm, pulling up to kiss him, but within seconds he'd drawn away.
"Other assault cases have made me think of my sisters. Of you. My mom, walking around at night. But it goes the other way, too. The guys with the guns make me think of Dad, and I've never seen it as a problem as long as I'm doing my job. Fix the body, right? But I tell students we never know what the brain absorbs. Is that where someone like Nelson comes in; and skill and less empathy is better than judgement?—I don't know. You're better at making calls like that. He wouldn't have taken the risks I did today, because I didn't want this boy going through more agony; whether that meant I could stabilize the spine or had to sever. Thinking of Bails, or Zola, or you; it's like politicians saying they're a father of a daughter. The hypothetical mattering more than the actuality.
"I'm not saying I never saw patients as people. I think I've managed to be good at that overall; but sometimes…. Sometimes it's something else I can't get past. With the Alzheimer's trial…with Adele...I thought of Richard. I thought of you, and that—It wasn't the right reason to do it. Adele was her own person. More than Richard's wife, or Addison's friend."
Than my mother's other woman, Meredith thought. Her actions had been more about Richard; she wouldn't deny that. it'd also been guilt. Adele had been the only one with any empathy in that triangle. The one who paid attention to Meredith; even if she was only a distraction, she hadn't made her a pawn.
"You told me the second time I punched Mark in front of you scared you more. And I started scaring you in the OR, didn't I? With Jen?"
She caught herself nodding before she'd really thought about it. The memory of watching him taking apart a woman's brain alongside Addison, and neither of them recognizing the man they were seeing was vivid—eerily like one of the flashbacks she'd been having. Why? Because she'd made the Jane Brain? The lobes were one piece, and she'd used plenty of brain models in the interim. It'd been years. Ancient history. Except, not quite. "What happened to you?" had felt so much like "you're a lemon."
"It's okay, Mer. I scared myself. If I'd really been fixated on saving her…on giving her a life with her husband and baby, I couldn't have gone that far. It was violent. It was a violation."
"You thought her brain could C-O-M-P-E-N-S-A-T-E."
"Did I really?" He paused, and his mouth twisted.
During their ASL lessons, Maggie told her that signs relied on position, facial expression, and movement as much as hand-shapes. Derek's face was like that. In isolation, you'd see a smirk, but you'd have to see his eyes, the set of his brows, the way he fully shook his head instead of just bobbing it like he did when gently mocking her. There was bitterness in this version, but didn't have the satisfaction that came before he drew sharp words from his lips like they were a whetstone, This knife was meant for his own chest.
"Do you remember her last name? Harmon. 'Harm on.' Or 'harm man,' I've considered the irony both ways. Worried that I internalized it. Now, I'm trying not to think about it and curse Amelia….Addison was comparing me to Frankenstein, remember? He leaves his creation behind once the science is done. Once it's not just a body. I like to think I was trying to give her a fighting chance, but if there'd been a tumor there, not a bleed that I caused? If I hadn't been chasing the high of the win I'd gotten taking those parasites out of Archer? I don't know, except to say that I—when I went back... Izzie was your roommate, and I had a lot to make up for, but while I operated on her, I was thinking about her.
"Last year, I was barely considering the individuals on my table. If I'd been as focused on them as I was on that kid today, I wouldn't have been distracted by Amelia being my boss, and losing out on research that isn't going to affect anyone on a patient-level for years. It matters, and it was a challenge, but if you're doing this job right, that should be true for every procedure. They don't all take the effort Amelia is putting in, but the care... yeah. You know that. It's why you're so good."
Explain my mother. She'd never actually encountered many of Ellis's patients. Other surgeons praised her technique, but once Meredith turned eighteen she'd focused on research and policy. It wasn't hard to imagine her as a Nelson with more than adequate skill. Enough to make up for a non-inspirational bedside manner.
Derek had withdrawn his hand from hers at about the time he gave the compliment, allowing her to respond without feeling like she was pulling away from him. It was one of dozens of things that came to mind to counter what he was saying. Instead of relying on the small space of the white board to fill the gap in her signing, she pulled her phone out of her sling. The paper behind it crinkled.
what about NYC? didn't you get to know your patients in private practice?
His shoulders slumped several inches, and she dropped the phone in her lap. "Not saying you wrong," she signed, holding eye contact.
"You're not saying I'm right."
"Not so simple. Why you go—?"She indicated the words "private practice."
"A lot of reasons. It guaranteed that I could stay in Manhattan. With Addison's family connections, Mark and I knew we'd do better than if we'd been starting at a hospital. Being able to keep up with him for once was a big incentive; he'd been paying for shit since we saw Star Wars—God, he loved all of that. Addison would never have entirely predictable hours, and we'd said we would start a family after our fellowships
"She took another fellowship, and had all kinds of cases. I had mostly lumbar discectomies for the wealthy who considered me a 'service provider.' There were individual patients that kept me from hating it. If there was a reconstruction involved…working with Mark was the best part. So, finding him with Addison…. During residency, they were constantly telling us that you shouldn't go academic if you wanted a life. Turns out, you can make it work." He smiled at her. "But I took Richard's offer to get away from mine."
She nodded, and thought for a moment before typing: he promised you Chief. did you ask for it?
"No, the first time he called about the position, he said something about 'wanting to train someone to take over his hospital.' Head of Neuro gave me some of the control I'd had in Manhattan; I'm not sure I could've adjusted to less; whatever that says about me."
when he was going to retire, and everyone went for it; did you want it, or was it the competition? mark and addison (seemed) happy/focused on their careers. you had me. richard made you think I disqualified you, and you chased me off. chief was almost yours, and you regretted it. you wanted us more.
"I got it, eventually. And the way I did it—"
was underhanded, but I didn't like to admit what he'd been doing. how he manipulated me.
and you hated it
"Not my favorite job, true."
b/c it took you out of surgery, and came between us.
jen - you were planning to propose. you'd gone from a life of wins, boring but wins, to doing trials where most patients died, and you didn't want to go back. you wanted to marry me, and you tried to make me bolt again. I didn't. you operated on izzie. on issac in spite of richard. on all those impossible tumors to be ppl's last hope.
we were in a plane crash. you almost lost surgery; you had to look vulnerable in front of your sister. you still took months off with me after B was born. you agreed to focus on the kids and research—research you loved. when obama called: obvious choice! who wouldn't take it? you didn't go in spite of me. you made me tell you to do it. And as soon as I needed you, you were here.
there are a lot of ways to do the job. I'm partial to yours.
Derek stayed next to her through the time it took her to type these thoughts out, occasionally moderating the situation by the swingset . Zola didn't mean to be demanding—"bossy" might get used at day-care, but Meredith didn't have an issue with a girl wanting to be the boss—Bailey was eager to please, and sometimes couldn't meet his sister's standards. She took over while he read it, trying to show his consistency in not chancing glances. One of her snaps for the kids' attention got Artemis's, and there was a ball close enough that Meredith could reach it. The amount of gratification she got from imitating a simple activity—makes sense, and will fade soon enough; appreciate it.
"I'm not as ambitious as anyone thinks, am I?"
It would be more gratifying when sudden laughter didn't make her feel like her chest was caving in, and it could as easily be panic until it settled into a wheezing sound that was not at all attractive. Derek's dry tone, the expression that came with it; they were priceless when she'd expected him to need more time to get her point.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," she signed. "You…you want best. You want interesting, different. You… I-N-N-O-V-A-T-E. You care. you give your patient better life. night you come home? Family most. Someone, maybe R-I-C-H-A-R-D, M-A-R-K, A-D-D-I-S-O-N, somehow, something, maybe gender. maybe N-Y-C, I not-know, pressured you, made you afraid you're not enough. Scared, you push away. Our family enough." She did her best to get her left fingers to make the "f" hand-shape and make the full sign for family.
"Our family is everything. Surgery is extra Truly, doubty-eyebrows." His face screwed up even as he said the words. "Yeah. A lot of people made me think my priorities were wrong." He swept his finger up and down the phone again. "You've thought about this. Recently."
She huffed; this laugh far more controlled. "Yeah. Yeah. Because…tomorrow, nothing over. Changes."
"Big changes," he agreed. "I'm not going anywhere without you."
"I know. This different. For me, too." She sighed, and then retrieved the folded piece of paper out from under her cast.
"You're a regular Mary Poppins tonight," Derek commented.
"Mom's journal. Said C-A-M-P-B-E-L-L gave her this. Not C-I-T-E-D."
His features all showed what he thought of the sources she could trace. There wasn't room for him to judge her for taking so much of her life to untwist her beliefs from her mother's. The patriarchy had significantly influenced the way he'd denied his dreams, but he'd never quite understand what it was to be a surgeon and a woman. Whether Seattle Grace's first female surgeon had believed the passage, she'd felt it necessary to pass down.
"A woman who dissects, who makes post mortem examinations, who tests urine, who perhaps carries diseased specimens in her dress pocket, who can pass the male catheter, who punctures buboes, probes sinuses, examines purulent discharges, applies ligatures to haemorrhoids, and may have just come from operating for anal fistula, is not a person in whom you would look for the tenderer domestic qualities."
Derek read the paragraph twice, shook his head, and read it again with the corner of his lip quirked up. "That's not true."
Miranda had had a similar reaction that afternoon when Meredith asked if she'd ever seen it. "Oh, yeah, speaking of Campbell, huh? That's some bullshit. Sounds like my father at your Christmas dinner. She put it in my cubby about the time she retired. I wasn't like you, my specialty decision wasn't a big mystery; no betting pools involved. Couldn't quite tell if she was trying to scare me off, or give me a good laugh. I'd already had a baby, I had plenty of tenderer domestic qualities."
Her mother had already had a baby, too, and below the carefully copied text, she'd written "may be something to this."
"Meredith? You know this isn't true, right?"
She took her phone from where he'd balanced it on his knee.
The stereotype is. For all specialties. And having a baby is dealing w/blood, urine, all that. Not as though any of it has ever bothered them. Since I brought Zola home, being her mom felt natural. More than being a general surgeon. i was still afraid that following her example in my career meant I'd become more like her overall. I'd prove I wasn't made to be a wife and mother. You —Again, she hesitated, this time with her thumb poised over the keyboard—'ve known that. Used it, whether or not you meant to.
For weeks, i've been terrified of exactly what happened today. When it did, I knew: I'm not like her, at all. She didn't take comfort from me. She taught me things, but she didn't love doing it. Dropping me off at daycare was a relief, and I didn't think she was thrilled whenever she picked me up. My thoughts weren't curiosities. My turns of phrase weren't funny. I was not the most important part of her world. These two look at me, and even with all of this, even this afternoon, they trust me. If I hadn't already known my best interest wasn't Mom's priority, I wouldn't have been wary enough to disobey her.
"Mer—" Derek's voice was gravely, and she cut him off, wrapping her arm around his neck and pulling him down to her; too firmly for him to stop her this time.
"I love you," she signed; once her lips were tingling from kissing him, not imagining tomorrow when she'd be able to kiss him however she wanted. "I love our children. You. Our life. Me? tired, frustrated, crazy, but happy." She took a long breath; her next words would be a proclamation, if not a verbal one—but for once not trying to prove she could. "I want more."
His expression changed in increments as his eyes flicked from her hands to her face, and then stayed there, searching for subtext—no, his eyes were brightening, when evening shadows were forming around them; making sure he had the subtext right. "More…? Another baby? Now?"
"Not today. Soon? Bailey two years old. Becoming pregnant take long-time. Maybe I can't. Maybe you don't want—"
"I definitely want," he interrupted. "And we could adopt again."
"They might not…. if I'm not better….Zola, we lost heaps. I don't…Long time ago, I thought.…." She shrugged, letting her hands fall into her lap. They'd have to talk about that period, where Zola wasn't with them. There were bad memories, which she'd have to deal with. What were a few more sessions with Wyatt?
"Hey, no." Derek caught the wrist she'd started to lower. "Don't clam up on me, now. Haven't I proven I'm on board?"
"This not…we never discussed…you said…about 1-9-9-6. College, sometimes, people stayed my house. If coming out bad. Mom not see, not care. One day, when our kids grow up—if my brain not gone, we could become safe home. F-O-S-T-E-R," she clarified. She wasn't sure he knew the sign. "Bigger kids."
"I could see us doing that. I knew you'd considered it. When Karev brought up being in the system, you said that if you never, uh, pooped out a baby, you could give kids more than you mom gave you. Of course," he added, before she could say that must've been intern year, and he'd really held onto it? "Then you also wanted the lack of permanency. When we get there, you'll be determined ensure they have a consistent adult to be involved for the rest of their lives."
"If I have A-L-Z"
"Not just you, sweetheart. You come with a village. Omph!" He caught Bailey who'd run into his side. "Hey, bud. You done playing?"
"Ahn-Amy say eat." Bailey pointed over their shoulders. Amelia signed dinner at them from the window.
"She cooks stressed. If we have another, she leaves? Never."
"Well—whoa, Zo, whatcha doing?"
"I got it, Daddy!" she said, turning the wheelchair around to face away from the steps. "I pay it-tention."
Derek spun Bailey into Meredith's lap and leapt to the stair behind Zola in one move. Together, they backed the wheelchair onto the porch, while in an undertone he gave Zola basic instructions on balance.
"I got your chair, Momma," she announced, pushing it over. "But for steps I need a grown-up, because it could pull me down."
"Thank you! Go inside. Scrub."
Both kids followed her directions, while Derek held the wheelchair. "I never feel more like an intern again than when they do things like that."
"You love it."
"I do." He came around again once she was sitting, arranging her phone and white board in their pouches. "I love our kids. Our lives, and I absolutely want more. When you're ready."
"I am. I think maybe it help? And...I want our life moving forward. Okay if I'm still little bit…" She waved a hand to indicate wonky. "You, me? Not done."
"No matter what, we're not done," he assured her, before his lips touched hers.