"See? Toldja," Meredith told the cab driver as the new house came into view. "Home, not horror no—H'oh, boy."

Derek was standing on the front steps. How'd he…? Karev. Traitor. See if she let him keep squatting at her house.

"You're never gonna be able to get delivery out here."

"I'm a very good tipper, Darren. At least t' people who don't suggest I'm gonna murder them."

"Whom are we murdering?" Derek asked, his face appearing at the window she'd lowered when they disembarked from the ferry and the backseat had started to feel stifling.

"Darren thinks he's our human sacrifice to the ancient gods."

"Ma'am, youput a dot in the middle of nowhere into the GPS, and told me about the scalpel in your purse. I'm no fool."

"An' yet, you kept driving."

"Man's gotta eat."

"Woman needs a safety net," Meredith countered, taking the tablet Darren offered her to input the tip and sign. She squinted at it, and rubbed her eyes, digging her fingers in harder than advisable. Dry-eyed, hard-hearted, that was her. She shoved the tablet back, and Derek opened her door. She considered scooting to the opposite side to let herself out.

"Hey, Dr. Grey. Let me give you my card." Darren must've noticed his tip.

She smirked, and then remembered something she'd thought of at the airport, before everything went to shit. "Um, actually, does your company have accessible cabs? Vans, or whatever? My sister…she's in the hospital, but eventually…."

"Sure, sure. Here. He added a second card to the first. This is my cousin, Jean-Phillipe. Good dude, drives one of those. I'll tell 'im about you."

It was too soon for that. No encouragement had gotten Lexie to come back to them by five today, but her GCS was rising. One day, they'd need it. Not to come home from the bar. Not right away. anyway.

"Mer? Ready to go in?" Derek's face was so gentle, but there were bags under his eyes, and his stubble was rough. She should've stayed with Alex. Maybe Darren could…. Coward. She'd already chickened out twice today. She yanked her bag up over her shoulder, winced at the clinking of the plane-sized bottles she'd bought for the flight and emptied on the ride home, and looped the heels of her shoes over her fingers.

"Go hang out by the dock," Derek advised Darren. "Last boat leaves soon. I'm sure you can get a fare back to Seattle."

Darren thanked him, and Derek turned to her, still smiling. "Hey."

"Hey." She crossed her arms and started to walk toward the house. "Ow!" Trying to step on the balls of her feet worked for a few steps, until a rock bit into her right foot. "Ow, ow, ow." Hopping onto the left, she wobbled, and the feeling of falling made the sky spin—so many branches blocking the stars.

Derek caught her as with a hand on her back, and before she could pull away, he'd wrapped his arms around her waist. "Mer, c'mon. It's been a long day."

"Crappy wife, crappy life."

"Not remotely what I meant."

In a practiced move, he tipped her back onto his right arm. She grabbed onto him automatically. "Derek, your wrist!"

"Isn't being used." He adjusted the backs of her knees over his elbow. It couldn't be comfortable, but he was a stubborn ass—Today? The hell's wrong with you, Grey?—with something to prove. "I didn't think to carry you over the threshold last week."

"Archaic patro…purit…patriarchy…al tradition. Okay, we're over it! Very over it!Lemme down. I can jus'…just sleep down here."

He paused halfway to the stairs, but when she tried to wrangle out of his arms, he re-secured his hold. "Why would you do that?"

"'Cause…'Cause I suck. Imma stupid lush. I left you t'take care of the baby. You shoulda gone on t'bed, or stayed up t'yell at me, not carry me over the damn threshold."

"Mer, you're not—"

" Pathetic? Inpropri…inappropriately inevri…fuck it…drunk? Humiliating and immature?"

"Any of that. The one thing you got right is it's time to go to bed. Flip that light? Great. Can you get the—?"

"I can walk," she groused, fiddling with the baby-gate latch. If he didn't have his right hand free, the thing was Derek-proof. A moderate-sized pyramid of empty shot glasses wasn't enough to impair the extenders and flexors in her hands. As she returned to holding onto him, she pinched the top of her hand. She didn't even get numbness.

"You're new to these stairs. This is safer."

"Then, i's safer to carry Zola, too," she said, opening the top gate.

"She's learning. You could climb the old stairs in your sleep; these will be like that for her. But having seen what I've seen over the years, I'd prefer not to let either of you try." He paused again. You know if there was any chance I'd dro—"

"Don' be stupid. If your left median nerve fires when you're carrying me, i's because you're grabbing my ass, not usin' it to…. Craaaap, why'm I like this?" she demanded, scrubbing her hands over her face as he lowered her onto the bed.

"I believe it's because, as you've said, booze makes you 'rude, crude, lewd, and nude.'" he quoted, smiling. As if she should be any of those things with him tonight. "And you're honest. You're not letting me convince myself they should've just loped it off."

"Without infection or shredded vessels? I wouldn't'a let 'em," Meredith took his braced hand and kissed his knuckles. "We'll figure it out. Tomorrow, I'll start searching for Pru…Perubi…. Specialists from Peru."

"There are a lot of calls to make tomorrow." He sighed. "I'll get you some water. Be right back."

"Der…." She trailed off at thump of him stepping over the baby gate and let herself flop onto his pillow.

She'd gotten on that plane truly thinking she'd make it through hours in the air. Cristina had failed multiple times, and there went made-of-rubber Meredith, thinking she could handle hadn't thought she was better than Cristina—the opposite, really. She'd done less out there. She'd been malfeasing the interns, or whatever while Cristina was still processing the shit she'd been through.

As she stared at the wall parallel to the bed, the Post-it hanging on it seemed to glow. In spite of the fan, sweat broke out on the nape of her neck. She hadn't been running. Derek had encouraged her to go. He'd seemed so freaking confident in her.

She was a doctor. She'd known the source of the tightness in her chest. That there was no reason for the feeling that the world was a skipping record, taking her to the same landmarks again, and again. That she'd made the wrong call, and she'd doom everyone on board if she couldn't get off the damned plane.

Derek found her dry-heaving in the bathroom. He crouched next to her, and she pushed her back against the wall, pulling her legs up to her chest.

"I'm fine. Go to bed, okay? Like you said, long day."

"What if I don't want to leave you alone?"

"S'right there." She pointed over his shoulder at their room. "I'm not— I didn't want— I-I c-couldn't—"

"Hey, slow down. Take a breath."

" I just—I sh-shoulda…." She pressed her hands against her eyes to force back the pinpricks. "Shoulda just sat there."

"On the plane?"

"Anywhere. W-With you. On the plane. I-I c-couldn't…."

"Mer, it's okay."

"Stop saying that! Stop acting like you're not…. I'm your wife. Your best friend was dying. Mark died."

"Yeah." Derek's eyes glistened. "He did, and he wasn't alone. I wasn't, either. Cristina tried to be here; I understand how big that is. It was for Mark; but also, she was admitting that she didn't want to be alone in a new place when it happened. Of course you wanted to be there for her. You wanted it so badly that you got on a plane."

"An'…and offa one. I made a whole scene. There were so many people. I'd look at someone, and…and see them all lying in the clearing. It was a full flight. That's like two hundred people. I…I wouldn'ta…wouldn't have been able to make a dent."

"Oh, love." Derek put his arm around her, kissing her temple and letting his lips linger, like he knew the tension she'd refused to let become tears was reconvening there. "Why do you think I didn't ask you to stay? I know how hard it is for you to sit there when someone is dying and ignore your instinct to intervene. That you can do that for patients amazes me."

"I coulda sat with Lexie, or come home with Zo."

"You needed to be doing something."

"What, delaying a plane?" She pinched the back of her hand again. He didn't need to be subjected to her self-deprecating snakiness. it. "I might've convinced Alex to stay, but I think I jus saved him fare for a return flight. For all I know, he already regrets it, after having to hang out with an idiot who coulda gotten a script for a couple doses of Xanax around any corner drank enough to stop shaking. I'm no better than the appy intern…Wilson…and I did it to myself. Set myself up to fail, pathetically, in public."

"If you'll take them, I'll call in the meds tomorrow, and you can try again on a day that's less fraught."

"No point. Can't take 'em en route to a consult."

"Already giving up on flying commercial? It does sound like the airport was a big obstacle today, but you shouldn't give up on visiting Cristina altogether."

"Maybe." She rubbed her forehead with the flat of her palm. "She's not ready to come back. Going there…might not've helped. Staying might've been the better choice, but I'd already left."

"You didn't leave. You wouldn't have been leaving. You scheduled that sciatic hernia for the eleventh; you'd have driven home before letting Bailey have that.

"Have you talked to Cristina?"

"She said it's too soon to cash in our frequent flier miles."

"That Yang for 'this was one time, the first time, and you're not alone in this?'" Derek asked. She raised a shoulder. "Mark died today," he murmured, the words making his words rough. "Cautery makes me expect to smell jet fuel. There's no one path to…to dealing with this, and it can't be rushed. For all we know, Lexie will wake up tomorrow, and be on a plane to see Molly at Thanksgiving, but you're not gonna judge her if she's not."

"I'm being stupid."

"Mer—"

"Didn't say I am stupid."

Derek sighed with the tip of his nose resting on the crown of her head. "Bed?" he suggested. She nodded, and he stood, hoisting her up by her elbows, and heading back for the bedroom. "I don't think Cristina was testing you purposefully, by any means, but it might be enough that you were willing to try for her."

Derek slid her hair behind her ear, and she grabbed his wrists, bringing them to rest between them. She planned to say she was sorry. Genuinely, not as a platitude, his face was too drawn for her to think it would be right. Enough. Necessary.

She scooted back on the bed, tugging him down with her. "Mark died today."

"Bad day all around."

She lowered her gaze, heat flooding her cheeks. That was what she'd said the night he told her about how his dad died. She'd known at the time it was inadequate, and spent most of the night trying to make it up to him nonverbally. Derek put a finger under her chin, barely a suggestion to meet his eyes.

"That wasn't fair. You were doing your best, then, and you've learned a lot since then."

"Really? Because it feels like this has become about me, when it should be about you and Mark."

"You didn't make that happen," he pointed out. Then, he cleared his throat. "Mark died today. That's…God, it should be the worst of it."

"Tell me."

He pressed his palms against his eyes. "I called my mother after. She's at the top of the phone tree."

That attempt to swerve was obvious, but she wasn't sober enough for not laughing at that to be easy. Fine, okay, maybe some news shouldn't be in a forwarded email. She still thought the concept was hilarious.

"I didn't think that meant she got to prune it based on the topic at hand. Makes me wonder what she decided I didn't need to know out here."

"Huh?" Meredith rolled onto her side, far less amused.

"Not only did she not tell Amelia we were missing until we were found, she hadn't updated her on Mark."

"What the fuck?" Her hand went to his chest, and she pushed up to see his face. "I…I'm sure Carolyn thought…but her…her brother, Clueless-style, was dying. She deserved the chance to be here! I'm so sorry. I could've…I can…. Amelia's heard bad news from me before. Did you talk to her?"

"Hung up on Mom to call her and Addison."

"That sucks."

"I can't believe I didn't realize…. Dammit!"

He slammed his braced fist into the mattress, and Meredith lunged to grab it. "Stop that! You didn't do anything—"

"That's the point!"

"You didn't do anything wrong. You have every right to be mad at your mom, and your sisters who must've supported that nonsense, but you've had too much else going on. It's not unlike Amy to go MIA until the worst is over. That's self-preservation for her, and Addison would've reported another bender."

Derek gave that a flat ha. "I'm not sure it would've gotten to me. Now I have to wonder—I thought everyone was okay once I left New York. I ruined plans, and broke promises—"

"And you can't do anything about it right now."

"I just…. I need to be better about keeping up with the flock." He turned, catching her folding her lips together to hide her smile. There wasn't a better collective word for all of that generation, and they used it no matter what the tone of the conversation was. "Clueless-style?"

The smile disappeared. "I shouldn't have said that."

He shook his head again, bringing his left hand up to her jawline. "I love you for saying things like that. You see things for what they are. Your empathy is entirely sincere. It did suck. It'll suck to tell Lexie. I'll be there when you do. If you want."

"Y-Yeah…you'll have a better idea of…of what to do."

"Will I? I should've called Amy directly. Should've done it from Boise."

"You were out of it in Boise. I—"

"Called Mom. Any time we had an update, you called my mom. You fielded calls from other Shepherds, some Greys, a Ya—Rubenstien. Even Carlos Torres. I would've told you not to expect to hear from Amelia, you had your own little sister to worry about, and to stop looking at the screen before the blue light gave you another migraine.

"She's going to feel like I kept her away from him."

"No, she won't, because I'll call her tomorrow and explain exactly what happened. Your mom needs to take blame for this."

"Some of it."

"Derek—"

"I noticed, okay? I thought it was weird that I hadn't heard from L.A. Mark…He told me not to call Addison, and I didn't want to talk to Amelia about Boston."

"Regretting decisions from back then doesn't get you anywhere. Wouldn't have gotten you here. I like you here."

"Not…. God, Mark would've laughed his ass off if I'd told it bugged me. I'm proud of what Amy's accomplished. So damn proud. But when the spouse-hiring people at the Brigham got me in touch with Harvard Med, they asked if I was the brother Amelia shepherd talked about. It's…what would you say? So freaking petty? But…it burned me."

"You know who…who would have understood that feeling?"

"Mark," he sighed. "He was competitive, but he didn't take it off the rink…court, field, table. He thought that my sisters and I were insane for getting so intense. He was always the banker in Monopoly, even though Liz was be toter at math. Not that that solved the problem. I don't think any of us actually cheated, but we all accused each other of it."

"Seems like he'd get bored."

"He said it was like watching hyenas fight over a kill, complete with terrifying laughter." He went quiet for a moment, lost in the memory. "He would've understood how you felt today, too."

Meredith nodded. She'd told herself he'd have said something like, Don't sweat it, Grey, I'm probably not gonna know the difference. Just don't let him give up on that hand, and take care of my girls, all right? but thought she was trying to let herself off the hook. With Derek's confirmation, she wondered.

She'd been sitting in that room, thinking of Cristina at Mayo. Of having to hear Mark Sloan's death rattle. Seen Richard turn off the machines and remembered her first time doing this—Grace—and that she hadn't been with her mother—but maybe she had. Imagined Derek turning to her when it happened, and never being able to look at her again without seeing Death.

There hadn't seemed to be a choice that didn't make her a lemon, but if she ran, she'd return.

There was no return from death.

"What about the second-worst part of the day?"

"It…It was awful." He raised his shoulder. "And it wasn't. Not like the times he coded. We've been losing him the whole time. If he hadn't been out there with surgeons…with you—" He gave her a wavering smile. Still being able to feel that terror made it hard to think she deserved it. Cardio wasn't her specialty, had never been her focus, and her patient had been freaking, open-hearted Mark, who loved her little sister and was her husband's best friend.

She didn't say any of that, just ran the backs of her fingers over Derek's face. Whatever she deserved, he deserved her focus.

"—he wouldn't have even gotten home. I've seen so many families through surges, or Last Good Days, but living it…. I swear, I saw the spirit come back into his body. It was impossible to imagine him losing…losing life. I let myself hope…hope that the miracle was more than giving him a chance to take care of unfinished business. That he wasn't just a visible, audible ghost. After…as soon as I saw him, I knew he was gone, but he wasn't finished. I kept trying things, like…like if I found the right proof, he'd be able to come back. Video-calling Mom. Playing clips of the girls in the kiddie pool. Telling him…telling him Lexie was tracking. Even today, I hoped…I dunno, that he'd seen she was firmly on this side, and would fight his way back." Meredith bit the inside of her cheek. Derek was staring at the ceiling, but he saw, or sensed. "He'd have hated for her to wake up in time to watch him wast away, but if he could've held on for anyone…to keep from hurting her more…."

"He would've done it for you. He…. You're—I don't mean this like…like me. And I think the feeling, it's different for you, not lesser—He was your brother; you've loved him for your whole life, but you…. You're the love of his life."

He didn't laugh, though his expression almost made her do it. She'd expected doubtful or dismissive. She got boggled.

"Derek, if he'd come here for Addison, he would've stuck around the first time. He'd have tried to win her. He left because you weren't ready to forgive him. He loved her, yeah, but you're the one he wanted back. He left to give you two a fair chance to work it out.

"Her booty-call told him you were moving on—probably that you were with me, what with the passive-aggressive panties…." She stopped. Maybe she'd gotten better at knowing when to shut up?

Derek covered her right hand with his and turned to kiss her palm. His eyebrow urged her to continue. She did, more slowly, trying to run her words through her foggy brain without stuttering.

"He could've followed her to L.A. It's cosmetic surgery Mecca, and they're his friends, too. Instead, he let her move on. Same as he did for Lex—He…He doesn't push. Even the stuff he wants…wanted, he just…let happen. I dunno….You have four sisters, and yeah, they slept with him, but…he never pursued. As much as he wanted to be a Shepherd all of their stories cast him as 'brother's convenient best friend.' He did push you."

"He wanted to marry Lizzy…when he was fourteen."

"Making her seventeen? She was absolutely the pursuant there, even if he already thought he was Casanova.

"My point is…. He couldn't live without you for more than a year. You were his person—The one he loved unconditionally. I don't know if you…. With such a big family, you learned to split your love, your focus, even your jealousy. That's harder for an only child, especially those of us whose parents aren't giving us much to work with.

Here was the first time I didn't invest almost everything in one person. The thing is…truly only having one person is…dangerous. It makes it easier to disappoint, to hurt, to…to destroy them. It's worst if you're both like that. That's why Sadie and I were so explosive. But not being totally codependent doesn't make you were less attached.

Even when you'd say you should've known, because Mark was a manwhore by nature—whereas you and Addison had made vows—he's the one you felt more betrayed by. He was the first person you loved who wasn't in your family. That you chose.

"You'd been alive longer at that point. You had a complete, strong family for twelve years. You went to college first, started med school first, came here first. You had more separate growth. When he moved Seattle, he was just starting to do that. You had to draw boundaries—with a marker—for the both of you. You had to live your own lives, like I had to learn to exist without my mother.

"Five years from now, with him and Lexie settled, and the girls needing kindergarten carpools? I think the…the distance…the line would be unnecessary. You'd be brothers, with their own lives, who got through a really rough patch. I hate that he didn't make it to that.

"If he hadn't followed you out here, he might be living up the lothario life in New York, thinking of himself in contrast to you, never letting himself settle into a relationship because of how badly he'd fucked up.

Instead, he had his own life. His family. A woman who didn't love you first. Your babies are besties who are gonna be a hundred percent their own people, because they're getting love from everywhere.

"He idolized you he looked up to you, but mostly, he loved you. I happen to think that was one of his better qualities."

Part of why she loved Derek's arrogance was that it was almost always genuine. He looked to her, red-eyed, and in his "Really?" she heard the kid who wasn't sure why this younger boy decided to follow him around and wanted to earn the attention.

She kissed him. When he responded, she moved her hands under his shirt, and then the waistband of his pajama pants. "Mer…."

"I…I left you to watch your best friend die, and…and I know…." She focused on his lips, slightly parted, curious, familiar. "It's not just Mom, or…or George. A girl I was friends with in high school…my best friend, before Sadie…she was my first funeral. We weren't what Sadie and I became, but I didn't have many real friends. It sucks."

"Mer—"

"It's not why I didn't wanna move, or…or nearly as significant as this. We traded bootlegs, candy-striped together, and I creamed her and her brother at Mortal Kombat on the weekends. I only…. I know."

She escaped the sudden intensity of his gaze by tugging her sweater off over her head. This bed was big enough that she could toss it over her shoulder without it landing on the floor. She might still do that on purpose; he made the best faces at the sound of wool landing in a heap on the rug.

If she'd been gone, even for a weekend, would she have come home to Dark Derek? She hadn't taken Zola because it'd been hard enough to let her go get on a plane with a military doctor.—She wasn't going to be able to take her until she could be sure she wasn't exuding anxiety for her daughter to absorb. That would take not imagining her broken car-seat hanging in a tree. Having to drive if they ever made the cross-country trip to visit his mom would be better than giving Zola a phobia of planes—Had she also known that having the toddler to look after would keep Derek from buying a beer on the ferry, and not stopping until she got home?Tonight, she was one to talk. Tomorrow, she'd do everything she could to make it easier.

"I know he didn't want a service, which'll disappoint Murphy, but the hospital's gonna want to do something. If Owen delegates, we could end up with another fondue fountain."

There. That smile was Derek.

"Still can't believe you did that to me," he said.

"I didn't know!"

"Good try. Now sell me the Brooklyn Bridge."

"Come on," she said, twisting to get her slacks off without dislocating a hip. "Who in their right mind would think, there's going to be a chocolate fondue fountain at this party. I'm sure spending a few hours playing with chocolate body paint ahead of time won't cause any issues! "

"You."

"Not me. I wanted to turn around and drag you into the back of the car." She kissed him again, using his shoulder for balance while she reached over to his bedside table. There were a dozen little packets of lube from her splurging; stone-cold sober she could maybe rip one open with one hand, but it wasn't the time to try. Why, when the drawer was tall enough for a pump bottle to be upright?

"Mer—"

She bounced her finger over his lips like Zola making the blurb sound she loved. "Objection over-ruled. You need a break, Dr. Shepherd."

He'd had that title for over half his life, but if she said it the right way, she could see the reaction take effect. There were fewer shadows on his face than there had been when they'd first come into the dim light of the bedroom. His lips opened as she moved her knees further apart and rose on them. He bent his, supporting her while she ensured he'd could see her slicking herself up, going from the lowest edge of her cunt, inserting her fingers and sliding them out again, grazing her clit.

"There too, baby," he told her. "Make it good for you."

"Oh, I'm gonna," she said, but followed his instruction, swirling her finger over the hood of her clit. "I got this. Got you." She wiped the excess lube off of her fingers onto his cock. It only took a few strokes for his hips to start jerking.

She'd gotten used to the roughness of the brace against the crest of her hip. Trusting that he'd let her know if something hurt had taken longer, but he had, and the scans showed that the bone and muscle damage was healed. The times there'd been an issue had been because he'd wanted to avoid moving his right hand, and brought his left to her clit. Repetitive movement and positioning that bent his wrist the wrong way? Not happening.

She let him support her while they worked out the angles, and then she slipped her right hand into his left, levering it down onto his pillow as she flattened herself against his pelvis.

"Mm, definitely good," she murmured. It'd been at least a week since they'd had a bed to work with. The couch in the office he'd been given when he downsized from interim chief was great, and they'd been making supply shelves work for them for years, but those were stolen moments. This was theirs, and it'd be a lot trickier for her to end up on the floor.

(Not that she couldn't have managed it.)

She worked her other hand in between them, preempting him. "Not letting me do anything, huh?"

"Uh-uh. Got this."

He'd stood out from the start as one of the most continually attentive people she'd been with; the most able to read her body and adjust accordingly. Over five years, they'd learned plenty from each other, and sex had been a lot of things. She'd been unabashed and insistent, had a period of simple pliability in the interest of throwing her past off a bridge. The fear that this time could be the last time had ebbed and flowed.

Tonight, it was a spark in her periphery, probably what had her body responding as though they'd been here longer, with Derek teasing her just to the breaking point before pulling her on top of him. It radiated off of him without manifesting as the desperate intensity it usually caused in her.

"Derek. Look at me." She squeezed his hand, and his eyes focused on her. "Look what you do for me. This is real. We're here. We're safe. I'm safe."

His face went pink, and his mouth tipped open, reactions with entirely different causes. She caught herself before she missed a beat in the rhythm he'd started matching. He hadn't said anything, because he'd known she felt guilty from the moment she stumbled out of the cab, if not before. He hadn't wanted Cristina to be alone either. There were half a dozen or more reasons, but he didn't need one to be worried— more than worried—about her getting on a plane.

"Tell me."

He turned away for long enough that she thought she'd have to reallocate her right hand to grab his face, because she wasn't letting go of his other hand for anything. "I was afraid for you."

"Yeah? Feeling's mutual."

His gaze pulled her down to him, and he raised his legs to thrust into her. The kiss was demanding, like he could only be sure she was breathing by filling his lungs with her breath.

I can't keep trying to breathe for you.

She gasped, feeling a barrier shatter Like she was both Pandora and the vase, and another bad feeling, another doubt, had just escaped, bringing her closer to becoming a vessel that only held hope.

She'd never been sure of his exact meaning that night, because she hadn't stayed to ask. She'd let him get away with being cryptic, and never known if he'd meant that he couldn't save her; that he couldn't live her life for her, couldn't live his life for her, or if he'd thought she was trying to stop breathing. It'd come after the bridge, but had been swept under the rug with the other misunderstandings that hadn't been cleared up. Periodically, one of them would surface, and she'd kick it away again.

That was what had just happened—almost. But when she'd heard the echo of the first time she'd caught him staring at the ceiling contemplating mortality, she knew it wasn't true anymore. Whatever he'd been thinking, if it was a flashback to reviving Amy, or a new awareness that loving her meant one day losing her—it didn't matter. It wasn't true anymore.

Her thoughts flashed to Cristina, not long after she'd broken through the psychosis, making an early attempt to explain her decision to leave, "He wanted to drop everything for me! To be my hausfrau! He's wanted to learn to roast a chicken for three years? He hasn't mentioned it in the two we've been married."—They were calling Lexie Snow White consistently now, but she'd enjoyed the image of Owen as the forest animals—"If he wanted to be all domestic from the start…. Beth might've been wrong for him, but I'm not right!"

"You have to eat," Meredith had pointed out, leafing through one of the antique medical texts; gifts that Cristina moved from place to place in airtight bins. "Derek tries new recipes."

Call her crazy, but she didn't think the problem was chicken.

"That's not taking a sabbatical to experiment with lemon pepper! He said I'd 'go back into the OR and do my magic' as though I haven't worked for these skills."

"You have talent—"

"He wants a robot. If I won't bear his child, I'm a robot. Something…inhuman that wants to operate without knowing anything about my patient."

You don't? The thought dissolved within seconds. Cristina wasn't her mother. "He knows that," she'd said. "He knows you care so much that it hurts."

Cristina stared at her, both of them knowing what'd crossed Meredith's mind first, and that acknowledging it might be the difference between reattachment and amputation. "It does," she'd said dully. "Pain is a sign that something is wrong."

But it means you're alive.

As though her thoughts had been transferred to him through her breath, her pores, the electricity flowing between them, Derek reached over her shoulder, grabbing as much of her hair as he could in one swipe and wrapping it around his fist. He pulled until she had to arc back with it

She groaned as the sensation radiated through her. She moved her hand, grabbing his knee for balance, and making up for it by grinding against him. Just before his thrusts became final and frantic, he raised himself up, popping her nipple into his mouth. Not all that wild of a move, really, but it allowed her to feel him everywhere, at once, and it was unexpected. That was what hit her hardest as she came. There was more for them, more of this, of their life here. They were separate people who could still surprise each other, and make wrong choices, and changing, but still knowing. That they were so connected her satisfaction would've been dulled, possibly negated if she hadn't felt him release, and seen his face lose all the stress that had been there.

As soon as she fell into the crook of his arm, Derek's hand was cupped gently over her scalp. "Okay, Rapunzel?"

Alive, she almost said. So fucking alive. It might be the kind of Meredith misstep he loved, but she didn't know, and she wasn't going to risk bringing him down from the rush.

"Yeah." She kissed the tip of his nose, the way he tended to do to her, and reveled in his smile.

She stayed there as long she could. The other…the old house got cold at night, even in late summer. Here, they had a state-of-the-art thermostat, and she could've slept there in his arms if she hadn't had to pee.

She felt him watching her pad in and out of the bedroom, and when she sat on the bed to put socks over the pinpricks of bruises on her feet, she looked to his the reflection on the TV screen. "I don't regret trying to go today. For me and for Cristina, it was good." With that part admitted, she crawled up to the head of the bed and slipped under the covers he'd pulled back for her. "But I'm glad I'm here tonight."

"Me too." Derek held his arm up, and she curled up under it. His left hand was resting on his torso. If she hadn't seen the damage up close and personally, she might've questioned his left hand going numb the day Mark died. (Besides, each would've described the other as his right-hand man. Dorks.)

"It was easier, having Zola," he said, his voice heavy with sleep. "I had to get her home, get the paint off her chin, read her books, like any other night. I almost offered to take Sofia, too. Would've brought her and Callie here, but…."

"But Arizona's in the woods. Hope Alex staying doesn't make that worse. I really thought being home with her wife and baby would help…."

Since she'd returned to the O.R., she'd spent less time at the day-care, but every time she found a chance to sneak way, it was a bright point. She'd spent over an hour with her before heading for Sea-Tac, and even though that had been a disaster, she didn't think she'd have gotten half as far if she hadn't.

"You did everything you could," Derek murmured.

She hoped he was right about that. For Mark. For Cristina. For Lexie.

Was she wandering an eerie Seattle Grace? In a clearing without smoke? Or was she just dreaming of their castle on a cloud? Wherever she was, Mark was probably with her. Meredith wouldn't blame her if she didn't want to wake from that.

Any drowsiness she'd felt in the cab was long gone, but not long enough that she'd risk taking one of the pills in the bathroom cabinet. She lay still for a long time after Derek fell asleep, watching the scar on his chest rise and fall. It could've been him. So easily, it could've been him. Sometimes, she didn't mind these brushes with insomnia. Her dreams took him away too often.

(interliude iii)

"Hey, Mer, I've only got a sec."

"No worries, Dr. Yang."

"…Three?"

"In the flesh. So they're telling me. Can't feel much of it."

"It's…early days."

"Say that like you mean it."

"'Early days' can mean up to a year."

"You're on speaker, Cristina."

"Worried I'll share your dirty secrets?"

"I know about…everything."

"I'm sorry, Little Grey. He was a good guy."

"You got him home. I just…I waited too long."

"Lex…."

"I did. However you look at it. Should've told him at the softball game."

"You weren't ready. Yeah, from here it's obvious, but at the time that throw was totally subconscious."

"If it'd been a cartoon, she would've turned into a green-eyed monster."

"It wasn't that. Well, yeah, she was jealous, but you didn't see her with Thatcher's girlfriend. You get freaked out whenever it looks like someone's being replaced."

"I…I…You…. How do you…?"

"I'll keep visiting if you let me tell him you've come around, you don't have to worry."

"Shut up, it's not that."

"Wait, what? She won't let you call Thatcher?"

"He told her to lie to me!"

"Come on, Lex. You've waited to give a patient bad news. He knows what that grief is like, and he wanted to protect you."

"Did he say he wanted to be the one to tell me?"

"No."

"So, he wanted to control when I found out, but had you do it. In case I reacted…like…like he did."

"I could've handled it. I think you're reading too much into it.

"Which means you're being really paranoid."

"Oh, thanks Cristina. I just mean…. He's been here every week, at least. More, earlier on, but he…he's had to work."

"It's been summer. He doesn't do summer courses. Too condensed."

"He has good reasons not to want to hang around this place."

"Why can you hate him for yourself and not for me?"

"He's your dad."

"Exactly."

"Look, Lex… you know what it looks like when someone comes out of a coma. You weren't yourself. Not…Not everyone can deal with that."

"When does he visit?"

"Sundays."

"And it's Friday? Okay. He finds out Sunday."

"Better plug the hospital's biggest leak."

"I've got a tumor removal he can have. That detente is so weird."

"Bro code. And possibly internalized racism on Webber's part."

"Uh, can we pretend I've been in a coma for two months? Oh, wait…"

"Sorry. On the days Thatcher doesn't call me…he has another source."

"He goes to the A.A. two blocks away at the Fellowship Hall, talks to Dr. Webber, and then doesn't visit? He's been doing that for years."

"But that's…there's no other reason…. It's Richard's primary…Derek went with him, a couple times…."

"He's never been great with boundaries—"

"Which he?"

"Cristina!"

"Either of them, Mer, come on. Dad mostly goes to a meeting just off campus. Lotta old academics, not much God. He used to call me once or twice a month when he came down here, and we'd get coffee. He hasn't done that in a while. I'm sure if Dr. Webber had asked him not to come to meetings there, or even avoided him, he'd have stopped."

"Instead, they're chums."

"…did you just say 'chums?'"

"My primary companion here is older than Intern Norman was."

"Is Dani what you're worried about? She hasn't come in with him in a long time. Not once he'd…adjusted to how banged up you were."

"No, it's…. He's never been good at the hands-on care stuff, and this isn't chicken pox. If I…if I can't….If my hands…."

"Alexandra Caroline Grey—Lexie—Lexie, look at me. Take a breath. Good. Good girl. Another. That's it. That's right. You can breath just fine, we know that. Your elbow and wrist flexors are good—"

"M-My hands—"

"Are still there, and as long as that's true, we're not making definitive statements. There are seven years before you'd have to restart residency to take your boards. But you know what you have? You know what you definitely have?"

"Uh-uh."

"Your mind, Lex. And that sure as hell wasn't a guarantee. You know that. You know that the longer it takes you to regain consciousness, the more likelihood of permanent damage. But you're here fighting with me about Thatcher and sleeping—Your mind is what got you a medical license, and you still have that—"

"H-Have to renew by my birth—"

"See? Definitely have your mind. We'll take care of it. You're still a doctor, Lexie Grey. You're a doctor, you're my sister, you're here, you're Zola's aunt, and you're going to be okay. That's five things. That's five things I know."

"She won't sleep?"

"She's afraid of going under again."

"Oh, thanks."

"You are! Your body needs you to rest, Lex. Let me give you this one time, and you'll see it's safe.."

"Oh, sure, you'll let them drug her up."

"I didn't keep them from giving you the meds you needed. Freaking Raj Sen was talking like it was a century ago, and we didn't know trauma from schizophrenia."

"You could've just said 'too soon.'"

"D'you think I'll see him when I'm asleep for real? Like, dreaming, not weird coma realities?"

"That, I don't know."

"Will you stay with me?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Push it."

"Cristina? You still there?"

"Yeah. They're paging me. I should…. I'm really glad she's back, Mer."

"Me, too. Not sure about her."

"If anyone can convince her, it's you."

"Because I'm so gung-ho on life."

"Exactly."

"Oh, go crack a chest. I'm gonna watch Lexie sleep. "

"Because you haven't done enough of that."

"I haven't. This time, I'll be able to trust that when she opens her eyes, she'll be in them."

"Oh….Oops, Dinosaur approaching. Bye!"

Review, please! Also, since I'm getting the weird message about my email being bounced, I'd like to take this chance to remind you that this (and all of my fics) are crossposted on AO3, and you're guaranteed to get update alerts there.