"Cripperella was supposed to be exclusive to Dad's," Lexie joked. Meredith thought. Her flat delivery made it difficult to tell.

"Because designing a toy zoo is so taxing," she sniped back. "Your posture looks great, by the way."

Lexie smiled. Okay. Good.

"'Sides, Mer would be Cinderella," Alex said.

Meredith paused her wrapped present arrangement. "Explain."

"It's the structure of the thing. You're from your dad's first marriage, Susan was your stepmother. She wasn't evil—"

"Lady Tremaine," Lexie interrupted. Meredith and Alex looked at each other. Lexipedia lived.

"—but she prioritized her two daughters. You're even a brunette and a blonde."

"You would've had the sewing room," Lexie said. "It didn't get used apart from Halloween, once Molly and I could pick out clothes. She'd gotten into it again with Laura."

"You had smocked dresses, I'm guessing?"

"We did, and we were adorable. Molly's could be passed down to Laura. Mine…did not survive."

Meredith had seen a handful of photos of Lexie as a kid; a freckled, grinning girl who posed gamely, but always looked ready to exclaim, "Let me show you this!" and attempt a cartwheel. Molly stood nicely, but her gaze syggested she was looking a little bit past the lense toward the next thing to explore.

Meredith flashed to the numerous times she'd watched a friend jump onto a stool to be measured or to try on parts of a costume. She'd be mystified by the moms' smiles. They weren't mocking something so frivolous and whimsical. They were part of it. She glanced over at the costumes laid out on the floor, destined for Zola's dress-up box. She loved joining in with her pretend play, and she could only imagine that becoming more true as it got more complex.

Meredith studied the packages she'd set out, unable to stop her eye from catching on the ones wrapped in red—the only ones whose contents she hadn't seen. Green was for Derek, and while shopping this year had been more difficult than usual, she was confident in them. Zola's few, carefully chosen presents from Mommy and Daddy were silver stars that would distort her reflection and make her giggle before they'd even been opened. Lexie's gifts were wrapped in gold. The color was the one part Meredith was certain about. Gifts for her friends—their friends—were wrapped in whatever else she'd collected in the move, purchased by her, Izzie, April. None of the rolls seemed to have been in the attic for decades, but the possibility was there.

She kept reorganizing them, her eyes on Lexie. What would Molly see tomorrow? Were there differences only a full sister, who'd known Lexie her entire life, would see?

What about a half-sister who'd only known her for the five years she'd been a surgical resident? What did she notice?

She was quieter, more assertive, and more acerbic. Meredith had hoped she'd perk up once the ruling was made, but none of them had processed that. In the days she'd been home, she'd been cheerful with Zola, exclaiming over every toy that needed Ecksy's approval. Meredith had had to tell her to stop being so apologetic over needing help, and thanking them for every tiny thing. On the other hand, when she ventured out of her room, she was doing things like responding to Derek asking if she was going to keep up with anyone from Roseridge with "why? Want to arrange a play date?" Funny as it was, he hadn't been infantilizing her; she'd done it and projected it onto him.

Mereedith wasn't sure if she was really becoming a jagged little pill, or if it was the holiday. That was be a change; even in awkward years, Lexie had been enthusiastic about Christmas. She'd played both sides last year while Derek and Meredith went back and forth about Santa, and once the argument was settled they'd made mulled wine while setting up a rocking horse and stacking rings. (Was something done twice, years apart, a tradition?) This year, there was no wine for Meredith, and only virgin eggnog. She hadn't needed to drink to get through the holiday in a long time.

"Mer?"

She blinked and scowled down at the packages when she discovered her sister staring back at her. Way to be a creep, Grey. "Sorry. Just thinking."

"It's fine. Um, just I need to…." She glanced at Alex and shrugged. "Cath and change and stuff."

"I can help you," he offered.

Had she had foresight, fighting for him five Christmas ago? Meredith doubted it. No one could've predicted Dirty Uncle Sal would be here setting up a tea set without looking at the chart she'd drawn. (Look, it wasn't her fault that the second grade unit on Emily Post seered itself into her brain.)

"That's okay." Meredith winced getting to her feet. Derek had benched her all day, and she'd still forgotten about it, which was good. It was good. Burning her foot was insane; it was…. It was something she'd done; something that had made sense when she was dysregulated, and she was freaking working on it.

She wasn't sure why she wanted to tell her sister the truth, not the prevarication Derek had given her. ("Tell her you stepped on a rock in the driveway. It bruised." She had. In August, when she'd been able to take her anxiety out on the world, instead of herself.)

Because she trusted her. Because she didn't want to be as anxious about getting anxious in her house. But after those thoughts came the question: Do you just want her to see you're still suffering?

She didn't.

She didn't think.

The possibility made her not want to risk it.

She'd been harsh with Lexie, the time she'd suspected she was cutting. She'd resented the idea that she had to get involved, part of her concerned that she bore some responsibility. A small part of her had played trauma hierarchy, but heredity could've been equally influential. It hadn't been a stretch to imagine, really. Lexie was young;,she'd gone off to school younger, and come home only to be left mostly alone, save for a grumpy half-sister. Had she wanted them to have a shitty coping mechanism in common? Maybe. She'd thought she'd never be in this place again, and it would've been the first sister thing she'd have been confident in dealing with. (Wrongfully? No, she'd have sent her to Wyatt. She'd just thought getting back with Derek meant she'd be done being that girl.) When the truth had come out, she'd been envious. That they could slice themselves open and stitch themselves up, without waking urges to do it for other reasons, and that they'd thought of it.

She wouldn't see Wyatt again until the new year. She should've talked about all of this at her last appointment, instead of going on about Cristina. (How had she not realized that she wouldn't have wanted wanted to live here with Owen on the property?) She hadn't anticipated Lexie's decision to move in. She'd convinced herself that she wanted it too much. Selfishly—Justifiably,—she hadn't coveted the idea of Saturday meals with her father and the girlfriend, but she'd been sure that would be part of her life while Lexie worked through thinking she owed their father, or whatever her deal was.

Following Lexie past the stairs, she could hear the continuing commotion of Derek and Richard trying to wear Zola out. They'd rotated people and activities for an hour and a half, with no luck. She hadn't seemed that wound up today. Hopefully it was just the fuss about bedtime with so many guests in the transformed house. It wasn't a sleep regression. Please don't be a sleep regression.

"See Tanta!" Zola shrieked, and Meredith heard little footsteps followed by the jiggling of a doorknob, and then a wordless scream as she was thwarted.

The next one would not be put in a toddler bed close to Christmas, no matter how ready they were.

"Wish she'd been that invested at the mall last weekend," she murmured.

"Picture came out cute."

"Oh, no, she was good," They moved into Lexie's bathroom. Not the first time she'd been in here at night with Derek upstairs. "Just not stoked about the whoel deal."

"Your kid was skeptical about letting a pointy-earred college student put her on on a strange old man's lap? Noooo."

"Fair point."

Lexie had methods for cathing on her own, but it was easiest to support her in a standing position. It meant planting her feet firmly on the floor, without favoring the left, since that was Lexie's weaker side.

"Why was it easier to do this on other people?"

"Visibility. Access. Fine motor skills."

"The diaper thing should be more social acceptable."

"You've had kidney damage once this year, let's not give you an infection," Meredith admonished. Then, unable to stop herself, she added, "Poor Bailey."

"Am I the only one who thinks they could've still made it nice?"

"No," Meredith said, holding onto Lexie's waist while she leaned over to the sink. "Ben must know what he's doing, but Bailey can be…. Consider your source, here, I call Derek puritan sometimes, but she's…repressed. Her dad's a preacher, and I wouldn't be surprised if the college-marriage wasn't for April reasons. Her ex- could've been great in the sack, I have no idea, but I used to think…. No, I do think that the night she caught Derek and me in his car—the most awkward moment of my awkwarad life, but only because she was my direct superior—that she was…jealous. Of me. Us? Until it all blew up, and I was grateful she didn't gloat.

"I was a mess. A shitshow intern. A messy, shitshow of an intern. But I wasn't stupid enough to be unabashedly screwing an attending where we could be caught, unless it was seriously worth it. And her whole…attitude suggested that she didn't know how that could be possible.

"Then, you know when someone shows up one day, and you think, oh, you've discovered something? She was that way after she and Ben started—I can't even say 'hooking up' in reference to her—doing it. I very much hope to catch her in the throes one day, and then to wait outside the door to give her a high-five. Derek wasted his chance when she was with Eli, and I don't know which of them was more embarrassed about it. Like I said, McDreamy can be a little bit of a McPuritain—Eli, by the way, asks about you whenever I see him."

Lexie, who had been smiling along with Meredith's monologue, didn't respond to that, but in the mirror her eyes were marbles.

Okay. Shut up about the hot nurse, got it. "Zola would have been disappointed if you hadn't been here today. If you'd gone to D-Thatcher's." She'd tagged the last bit on realizing that the sentence could've been taken as if you'd died, and she'd lost the "your" somewhere, thanks, it had to be noted, to the stammering that was one of the gag-gifts the man's genetics had given her.

If Lexie noticed, she didn't show it. Was that worrisome? Had she stopped reacting to Meredith acknowledging their shared parent, and she just hadn't noticed?

"She was happy to have me, but she wouldn't have known the difference," she insisted. "I'll go ahead and change, now."

"Sure. Do you want a shower, or to do it in the morning?"

"You're busy. And you'll have people over tomorrow."

"What's your counteroffer here?"

"Don't have one, I guess."

Meredith sighed. She thrived on having choices, but had Lexie been faced with too many of them, lately? "Let's do it now. Cool?" Lexie nodded. "Zola would have known. She understands that you've come home. Oops!" She jerked away from the spray of the shower, but not fast enough to avoid getting her sweater soaked. That's Grey Grace, right there.

She had a tank-top on under it. She mentally checked her arms. Clear. As she shucked sweater off, she smirked behind the fabric. She'd be checking Lexie in a minute. She was at risk for much deeper wounds, and with her circumstances, she might feel them at some times and not others.

"And," she continued, tossing the clothes Lexie handed her into the hamper. "She'll know when you go, tomorrow. She'll be busy, but she'll ask for you three times, minimum. If you really hadn't been here…." Meredith's eyes stung, and she shifted, ready to check the water and blame droplets on that. Freaking hormone shifts. "We would've told her that Aunt Ecks wanted to be here showing her how to make paper chains, frosting cookies for her to sprinkle, and helping her make a card for Sofi. I would've still had those gifts to wrap today, so none of that would have happened."

"You would've had more time to get them done."

"I think you underestimate how much of the time I spend helping you, I'd be hanging out with you anyway. You're well within your rights to hire a PCA, but when it's just a matter of making it easier for you, why wouldn't we pitch in?"

Lexie had arguments, visible in the lines on her forehead, but she didn't say anything. Meredith helped her onto the shower bench, checked that everything was in reach, and took her orthotics and corset out of the humid bathroom. She arranged them on the steam trunk at the foot of the bed. She thought og the tattoo that always stood out against Lexie's pale skin and wondered if there'd been more to her choice of the tin-man's heart-shaped clock. She had the beginnings of a suit of armor here, and it wouldn't be long before her P.T. Rehab could include a full-on exoskeleton.

After taking out pajamas, Meredith went over to the closet, automatically taking a green dress off the rack before she rmemebered whose room she was in. That, and a red blouse were the only Christmas-y things she could see, though; the sweater Lexie had worn to Zola's day-care party was in the laundry. At this point, she knew her sister's closet as well as Lexie did. Packing it in the fall had been eerie—tasks that could've belonged to that world where she wasn't there always were. She matched. The blouse with slacks, and added a black turtle-neck and jeans. She was presenting options, not picking out clothes for someone who could manage it herself.

Without a task, Meredith's brain had to process the pain in her foot, and she dropped onto Lexie's bed. It was hard not to judge herself for being felled by siomething so tiny, but the small, strong, sharp pain was only part of it. The hypotheticals kept popping up in here thoughts were loud where it was shrill.

If Lexie hadn't been there, would they be? Would she have been able to hang the Grover ornament Lexie'd given them last year? Would she have been able to face down Derek's sisters for him? She would have had this new awareness of how she'd come to take Lexie for granted, and not been able to do anything with it. If guilt could seize her from head to heel in this life, what would it have done in that one?

I am grateful. I am doing all I can. I am no one's only support.

Her profile was reflected on the TV, but even twisting toward the vanity mirror she couldn't see scars on her upper-arm unless she looked at them directly. On her calf, she had a pink line, but she rarely wore capris;, and she preferred long dresses. (If it faded, she'd at least be able to feel it.)

She didn't have a scar from the shooting, either. She'd had bad nights while Derek was in the CICU, and worse when she'd wake up to find him gone, and sat on the bed waiting for the phone to ring. The idea of more blood, more bandages, more pain; it hadn't appealed at all. She hadn't had trouble laying the blame on the gunman. She hadn't been fine. She knew that. She'd coped. She'd hurt, she'd cried. She'd called his family, and said, 'he'll be okay' until it felt true.

It had been different. There'd been close calls, and long recoveries, but the aftermath of this…it was different. One didn't affect the other. She was as fine as she could be, right now. Her sister was here; her husband and baby were upstairs; her friends who weren't here being Santa's helpers would visit tomorrow.

Cristina and Derek's fishing trip had been right before Christmas.

Things were different now.

Why couldn't she be fine?

What does "fine" even mean? I don't want to be fine. I want to be thriving. I want to be hopeful.

The bathroom smelled like Lexie's fruity shampoo, and for the first time in several days Meredith swallowed down nausea. In a second breath, the other fragrances buried the initial scent of lemons.

"Does Richard not have family?" Lexie asked, once the water was shut off.

"They're estranged," Meredith said, her focus on checking Lexie's skin for breakdowns while she held onto the railing beside the shower. "I don't know the story. During a case, he told me his mom died of pancreatic cancer when he was ten."

"That sucks. Could they not have kids? When I talked to Adele at Roseridge; she was treating me like a patient, and she said her fiancé Richard was going to be a great father."

"Huh. Well, it would've been expected. She traveled a lot…I guess that was after she retired. She had a miscarriage my intern year, but carrying to term at that age…it was unlikely. Now, there'd be a four-year-old without a mom."

How would he have manipualted me into babysitting? Meredith thought. She felt badly about it for a second. Of course she'd have pitched in. It was what you did for—whatever they were.

("I never should've had a kid….")

With Leixe settled on a towel-draped chair, She closed her eyes, glad Lexie wasn't facing her, and tried to turn down the volume in her head. The bathroom was always steamy at this point, but did it usually feel this suffocating? "I don't think he wanted kids. Maybe he just didn't want me. Could be what he and Thatcher bond over."

"What?"

Meredith picked up a broad-toothed comb, showing it to her sister in the mirror. She had one with an exteded, built-up handle that she could use herself, but she'd caught on to being helped making things faster sooner than Derek, and she nodded.

"I remember a park. A carousel. Not the one at the zoo." She'd been anxious, and a little eager, the first time they'd taken Zola, but it wasn't that one.

(She'd remembered riding it, too. It made some sense. Mom had taken her to the Franklin Park Zoo a couple of times, when her superiors or someone like Marie forced her to leave the hospital. Reading plaques and trading facts was a very Grey way to spend forced quality time.)

"It was summer. June. I was five.," she said, unable to stop her speech from taking on the rhythm of the comb she was pulling through her sister's hair. "Mom told me to hold on. It wasn't very crowded, or very fast. I could see her and Richard. I heard something about Thatcher and Adele. Then…about a child. Her having a child. Later…after…I got lost; I don't remember how she found me, but she did. There was time, I think, between that day, and the kitchen. Not much. D—Your—He moved his books out. And he took…He left. And she must've…. She had to think Richard was going to be on shift. She had a breakdown; you don't just…. She could have died. But she kept saying stuff about it being because she had a daughter; she shouldn't have had a child. She said the same stuff while she relived it. When he left her again."

Not long…. How long? Two months? Ttwo and a half? Not long before Adele got pregnant from another man. In her late forties. (She left him anyway. Mom went through that all again, and Adele finally—)

"So. He must've meant it. I didn't…I didn't understand until then."

"But you heard it. He didn't give your Mom an ultimatum. DIdn't give her the chance to say 'Thatch can take her.'"

"No."

"So, you think he thought not having a mom was the worst option for you? Because that's how it was for him?"

had been her point, hadn't it? An eon ago, at the beginning of this conversation?

"He didn't say that."

"No," Lrxie said, softly, and Meredith wondered how crazy-borken she sounded. Lexie tilted her head back. "Did you think not having a dad was the worst?"

Meredith poked a finger under her watch. Finding only the rubber band Derek had put on her the other night, she took two hairbands off of the metal loop hanging on the faucet. One went into Lexie's hair.

"No," she answered. "I never did." One of the few tantrums she remembered throwing was when the social worker tried to put her in the car that night. Every scream had been for her mommy. I have to stay with her! she'll go away! In her mind, he'd already been gone.

They moved into Lexie's room to put her clothes on. Meredith sat on the bed again. For a second she was looking at herself from multiple reflections.

("Please Ellis….")

"It's…It's…It's not fair. I don't know…she wasn't powerless in it all, but…if Mom had been less oblivious—just, generally—Adele might've lost him to white lady tears. She stayed with him through so much shit, and he…. Maybe it should be him I…. This is…. This isn't something you should—"

"Give me those." Lexie took her pajama pants. "You talk until I get these on. Then you can decide what I 'should' anything."

"I didn't mean…. She's dead, and it doesn't matter if I resent her." Meredith was boxed in by the bedside table and Lexie; she couldn't go anywhere, do anything. "I…I shouldn't. She saw through him, then. She…She thought he was screwing Bailey—and at least that would've been different. I was…as close as he could get…the one he could talk to about Mom, after he lost…gave up…the chance— I was…the one who brought her back into their lives. I tried…wanted to save her after what Mom did…. What I did, bringing us back here. They were separated, sorta, but... he…he stayed with Adele. When Mom needed him. Every time. Until Adele needed him.

"He said having him there calling himself her husband agitated her, As though there was nothing he could do about it. I was so many people for my mother. Adele thought I was her. I could…could clean up the blood—mess. Bloody mess. Give her…give her the time with him Mom didn't get. She was the one he chose. They should've gotten as much time as possible.

"I want that. I want Derek…. I don't want Alzheimer's at all, but I really don't want it alone. Mom had a child. She…She wasn't alone. So… Maybe it's good there wasn't an ultimatum."

"You'd have been there for her. Even if she'd given you to dad. If she hadn't recognized him, and he did that? You'd have either been there, or dragged him there by his earlobe," Lexie said.

How had she gone from being constantly disappointed by Meredith to this? It wasn't as though she'd given Thatcher her liver just because—thoguh maybe if things had gone differently that night on his porch, and in the months after…. But would a reunion with Ellis have gone better?

In a way, the situation would've been like it had been with Adele; a woman who she'd known at five and met again decades later. If she hadn't done it for—

"Adele had family, Mer," Lexie said, and she had to wonder if she'd kept rambling without realizing it. No. No, she wasn't that—that what? Tired? Out of it? Those were not the words Wyatt woild use. "That's possibly why he wasn't there to be your mom's Prince Charming that day, right? A party with her family?"

Lexie was bent in half getting her pants over her left foot; she wouldn't see Meredith digging her fingers into her comforter, didn't suspect she was pushing her heel against her shoe, or know she shouldn't be.

I smell Lexie's awful conditioner. I hear the Sesame Street Christmas audiobook—good idea, Derek—I see…I see…. "Out of all of them, Mom, Richard, Thatcher—it seems likeAdele gave the most of a shit about me, and that just means she gave me sustained attention to distract herself from thee fact that her husband was involved with my mother."

She knew, somehow, without remembering any specific incident, that Adele and Thatcher woiuld've been the ones focused on getting her to bed whiel Ellis and Richard were oblivious downstairs—not putting out presents, or cleaning up from a dinner party, or whatever brought them all to the same place then.

If that was the only reason he was spending time with Zola—No. "Didn't make a difference for me," she said, reminding herself aloud. It would matter only if Zola made it onto his gameboard. "I thought she was the nicest, smartest, prettiest nurse on the floor, and Mom…I think Mom respected Adele. She just wanted Richard to choose her.

"He didn't leave Adele until he could convince himself she wasn't his responsibility. But Roseridge—on that side—was so much responsibility, and we'd done the in-home care thing. I can get you the best PCA in Seattle with three questions, and when they get snowed in with thirty minutes notice, I can find a replacement, and make it to a clinical rotation in another state. Having her daily needs taken care of never let me off the hook." Lexie tried to bump herself up to pull the elastic up over her butt. "Okay, stop before you hurt yourself. That only works for assless chaps. Like me."

It took a second, but Lexie laughed. Meredith stood and tugged at the same time as she pulled up on Meredith's shoulders.

"What, what, over the butt," Lexie quipped.

"To Mousey's credit, she can still look me in the face," Meredith said. "I'm not telling her until she's an attending, but I'm probably the best person for that to happen in front of. I said some incrediblyu inappropriate things in the first months of my internship. Did more. Wasn't immune as a resident."

"You were going through some stuff."

"I have no idea what Heather's life is like," Their residents should know the interns best, but she should probably know more than their names, and whether or not they'd slept with Alex. It was just hard to know where the line was. Her attendings had been her…, well, her McDreamy, his McWife, their McSteamy, her mother's ex-lover, and Burke..

"Giving Adele the drug seemed like settling things. And now that I've said all of it…I'm not sure I do resent Adele."

Lexie was doubled over to drag on socks, hiding her face. "Wondered if you'd get there."

Meredith burst into laughter that felt as cathartic as crying. "I told him he'd suffered enough the other day. And it's true. I-I know what it's like—"

As though the obnoxious rap on the door wasn't obvioius enough, Alex coupled it by calling, "Are you two done with the porno set-up in there, or what?"

"Is there an answer to that that ends with you not coming in?" Lexie countered.

"I need Mer to come out here. Shepherd better have gotten you an iPad, Grey, your diagrams are a mess."

"Heu! Those are eyes only!"

"Come convince me yours were open when yoiu made them."

"I'll be there in a sec! Can you tell his average patient is twelve?" she added, not bothering to wait for him to walk off,

"No, he's just mentally twelve. There was a study in JAMA in '99 that looked at paitent age and gender distribution in peds. Eighty-one percent of patients were twelve or younger, but more than half were umder six. A quarter were twelve and older. Granted, it's probably differernt with surgeons than with practices, bit with the amount of common surgeries that get done between two and four, I doubt it skews older. Not to contradict you—"

"No!" Holy crap. Hearing it, Meredith recognized the biggest change in her sister: the lack of unprompted Lexipedia citations. How did you praise the behavior subtlety with an adult? Had she already blone it? " I mean…. It's good to know that he probably spends more time with toddlers. I can get material out of that."

She hadn't thought to miss the devious smile, but seeing it felt like an early Christmas present. This was her Lexie.

Would Molly have noticed the lack? Or the opposit?

"Hey, uh, you okay with the plan for tomorrow?"

"Why?"

"Just checking in. Things were weird at the courthouse, mostly because of me, and you haven't seen Molly since you went out there."

Protecting my people from the wolves is the one thing I've done right. Tell me I'm not sending you straight to them.

"You can say, 'since you broke your spine.'"

"Stuff happened before that. You both skipped Christmas last year."

"Zola's first Christmas home, Dani and Dad's first Christmas." Lexie pretended to weigh the two, and raising the hand that represented Zola up above her head. "I'd skip it this year, except Molly…and he's my dad, we grew up with great Christmases, and…and we're alive. I can do this much."

Meredith knew that feeling.

"Okay. But if you want to come home early, or whatever, call. Or call the cab company."

"J.P.'S working. He gave me his cell number. So, if I disappear, you can call the cops before he figures out how to make a powerchair disappear."

Meredith rolled her eyes."Christmas optimisim, right there. Are you staying here, or…?"

"No. I'll be back."

"You don't have to." She didn't blame Lexie for snagging moments of solitude when so many of those opportunities had been eliminated.

"I know. The Ctiperella thing was a joke."

"I know," Meredith mimicked, and Lexie gave her a chagrinned smile. It sometimes helped to hear yourself—but only if you knew the other pereson gpt ot.

As soon as she stepped into the hall, Meredith heard Richard, his voice low, which hopefully meant Zola was down. He'd done everything he could once they knew about Adele's condition, and she firmly believed Roseridge should've noticed it earlier. It was done. What happened between him and her mother decades ago, whether or not she'd been his reason for backin g out, it didn't matter. That he'd ended up here, playing grandfather, or great-uncle, or whatever tp jer kid regardless wasn't some embodiement of guilt. It was a good thing. It didn't make up for, or undermone anything. He was just a family friend, and she needed. To. Stop.

She tried to go through one more of Wyatt's exercises, touching her thumb to each finger in turn while breathing "mindfully." She didn't know why her mind rejected that so completely. Derek had books on mindfulness and pain management. She understood the neuroscience. But wasn't living "in the moment" what got her in trouble? Like with the Alzheimer's trial? Was she in the moment or too informed by the past?

All the dumb shit she'd done in her teens and twenties—wasn't that trying to stay in the moment? Or was that a byproduct? She'd ruminated on things a hell of a lot more than Sadie, had so many reasons and justificatiions. Then, the best part had always been when she made the jump and was in the air. When the hot Italian tied the condom off and kept kissing her. When the music was perfect and the moshpit was alive with people who just wanted to move freely surrounded by people, not to pick fights. Her skin would stop buzzing, she'd be in her body, and nothing else mattered; she was alive.

"Looking for these?"

She whirled around to face Derek. He immediately put the cookie tin he'd been holding out down on the counter. "Hey," he pivoted, more gently. She almost growled at him. She didn't need coddling. "Are you—?"

She made a slicing motion at her neck to get him to shut up; noting it was probably not the best gesture for the circumstance. He got it, though, or enough of it.

"Karev's in the shed waiting for me to help him bring in the bookcase," he said, taking a glass down from the cabinet and pressing it to the ice despenser lever. "You guys got a lot done." With the glass half full, he gestured for her to hold her hands out. When she did, he put an ice cube in each of them, and punched the button for water, filling the glass fast enough that no one would notice the delay.

Her lifelong affinity for cold had won out over the aversions going into the bay and being out in the wooods had caused, but the initial contact always came with a jolt that made her remember being so cold she'd have believed her bones were frozen. She wondered if those tiny doeses of what focusing on the past could do weren't why the contact yanked ber away from them.

"What about Richard?" she asked, moving to hold her hands over the sink as the ice dripped between her fingers.

Derek put the glass down, lightly touching her shoulders. She leaned against him, and he took the permission to wrap his arms around her. "He got a call from one of his who's friends helping out with Kwanzaa."

"Oh."

Adele, and therefore Richard, had been part of a group that arranged dinners for each night of Kwanzaa. Last year, Derek had asked him if taking Zola to the public community feasts would be a good way of exposing her to African American culture, or make them the try-hard white parents. The next thing she kn ew, they'd ended up hosting the evening he and Adele had given up the year they were separated.

At the funeral, his friends had told her that getting Richard involved in the holiday again had turned him into a man they hadn't seen in a long time. Tthey'd ended up agreeing to open their doors for two nights, while Derek played liason for the event at the hospital. It was a lot, but the welcome they'd found last year was exactly what she wanted for Zola.

And for Richard.

She'd forgiven him a long time ago for never showing up for her. He'd loved his wife; he'd had his own problems. He'd been better to her than Thatcher had. He'd told her she was like her mother as a surgeon, which Ellis had insisted she would never be, and, sin of all sins, he'd needed her.

"What's going on in there, huh?" Derek murmured, his chin resting on the top of her head.

"Nothing that matters tonight," she said, wiping her hands on a rag and facing him.

"It does if it's affecting you."

She plucked the monitor off of his belt, making sure to touch skin with her freezing hand.

It was like she'd hit the first domino.

"Bah! Meredith." He jumped at the same time Alex came banging in.

"Swear to God, if you're in here boning—"

"What's next on the Cripparella chore list?"

"Hey, you're not a step-anytrhing. You're the singing mouse. The one who says, 'leave the sewing to the women.'"

"Well, that's taken care of, and the little one finally went down? Excellent. What can I do?"

Once, having four overlapping voices wanting something from her would've sent Meredith racing upstairs. When had she learned that fleeing the responsibility didn't make it go away? When had she learned to delegate and direct?

While she waited for Alex and Derek to bring in the bookcase, she nibbled on one of the candy-cane shaped cookies.

She'd thought of George saying "it looks like Santa Claus threw up in here," the day Wilson kept getting hurled on by the Santa-lookalike. Now, she wished George was here, so she could say, "I'll show you Santa puke. Seriously, I put in way more work than Mrs. Claus tonight, and my body's dealing with exhaustion by waking me up to heave for half an hour at three in the morning."

He'd laugh, deem her gross, and ask if he could do anything to help.

Where was Wilson? She'd explicitly said no interns after Zola's birthday. She liked Edwards, But these interns were haaving boundries blurred left and right. Here, she was just Meredith or Mommy, not Dr. Grey., and definitely not Medusa. They needed a Medusa—maybe a Maleficent. At least her nickname wasn't Mother Gothel.

But thanks to what she knew from Alex, Wilson was a different case. She'd heard Edwards say she was going home, and she doubted the rest of them were hanging out. She might be working. Meredith could respect that. She and Derek worked Thanksgivings, in honor of Holden McKee. She was also biased; her mother had taken off only Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, midnight-to-midnight-to-midnight, every year. It'd made her partial toward a holiday she could've despised.

Last year had been the first time she'd gotten to see a baby's eyes light up at the sight of a tree surrounded by presents and a second perimeter of toys. Prior to morning, she'd been ready to object to ever having a tree again. It'd been a constant source of temptation; Zola squalling, "Baw, baw!" and shaking the baby gate they'd put around it to keep her from the glass baubles and their sharp hooks. Meredith had been ready to throw the whole holiday out at this point. She'd been sure that she was going to fail at giving Zola the Christmas she deserved, and Derek would decide he couldn't raise a child with her after all. The next morning, she'd put Zola down in front of it, hoping for steps. The baby had waved her arms and shrieked, propelling herself backward onto her diapered tush. From there, she'd dived into her haul, dragging her frog along to make new friends. Her giggles as she picked things up, licked some, dumped out parts of others; generally making a mess of her things, had been a revelation.

This year, Zola knew about presents and toys, and Meredith wasn't worried. Not about that.

She put the new array of picture books on the bookcase,and rehung the stocking she'd tasked Lexie with filling.

"Test time," she announced.

"I got it!" Derek put down the trash bag he was filling with cardboard and twisty-ties. ("Would've been more productive if Callie had made you open both girls' Santa toys.") Meredith rolled her eyes, but she wasn't going to make it to the stairs before he did. She sat on the coffee table; anywhere else would've been too comfortable to make herself get up. As she did, she looked out the back window, expecting to see Alex coming in from closing up the shed.

Lexie and Richard were on the back porch. Lexie's left elbow stuck out, her wrist bent to hold onto her arm-rest—that was what she'd adapted as the equivalent of putting her hand on her hip. She'd use it to lift, but most of the time her lifts were done with her wrist straight.

"Nope, nope, nope, can't see anything, nope, nope, nope, nope, and baby gate!" Derek said in rhythm with his steps down. "Even if she leans over it…yup, we're good. No surprises will be ruined, unless she learns to levi—Mer?"

"She's good. I mean, that's good." She held her hand out to him and he took it, putting his other hand behind her shoulders. "Lexie's talking to Richard."

"And…that's bad?"

"I don't know. We were talking about him. About…about the carousel, and I-I-I…want to go upstairs."

"Mer—"

"C'mon." She stood up, turning on her left heel and bringing their clasped hands up to her chest. She draped her other arm over his shoulder, and toyed with the hair on the back of his neck. "It's Christmas Eve."

"I know," he said, his hand going not just to the small of her back, but dipping under the top of her jeans. "We've got a tradition to adhere to."

She sighed, hoping he wouldn't clock it as relief, and roseg off her heels to kiss him, dragging the tip of her tongue along his like he liked.

"We'll go up in just a sec." He disengaged from her, grabbed the garbage, and crossed to the back door. She watched, horrified, as he casually approached Richard and Lexie. Forget three in the morning, she was gonna holiday hurl right there.

Lexie looked toward the window, and Meredith cocked an eyebrow at her. Her sister didn't turn away. Beside her, Richard made conciliatory gestures at Derek.

"Now, now, hold on," she muttered to herself. "Let me catch up. I'm just a doddering old, perfectly savvy, manipulative guy who wants to be your dad, but not your father."

She'd known all of that for a long time. She'd also known there was nothing to be done about it. Richard was who he was. Maybe she should tell him to yank Jackson around next time. He had a pseudo-son this time, one with an even more successful name. She'd been a willing shill so many times. She'd asked him for Christmas so that she could drop him off at AA before he sipped the damn eggnog—and she couldn't still fucking drink tequila. Hiding his problem didn't mean shit about hers. He was a doctor; he knew what a symptom was, especially in comparison to a disease..

That was years ago. Years! The scar from her hepatectomy was visible on her abdomen, but it was smooth. Thatcher's spiral had been caused by Susan's death. Richard's had mostly been the hospital failing, but it'd obviously started with her mom, and she'd worried, believed, hoped…. Ellis Grey was not a loving person, but she had loved, and she had deserved to be loved by more than one person when she died.

"You caught it first. And the minute you did, you looked after her. You did everything you could to take care of her. I've made a lot of mistakes, and it's taken me a lot of years to finally realize that all I want to do is be with her. You've given us the best chance that we could get. You've done everything."

She wasn't hurt. She wasn't hurt, so she did everything. He didn't tell her to do it. He didn't make her do it. She gave them the best chance. Why didn't he ever take the chance?

He lost them. He lost her mother. He lost Adele. He lost her.

She wasn't worthless. She was a surgeon. A good one. One day, he'll say he trained Meredith Grey….

No. Fuck that. He didn't get to take credit for her.

She was in the kitchen. She switched the ice-maker to crushed. She was happy with being uncivilized. The scalpel was in her purse. Crap, she'd used the…. No, wait, she did have an alcohol wipe. She hadn't put that much effort into trying to get the wobbly, Sharpied Z off of her bag, just mamde sure there wasn't any ink left on Zola's hands.

If Zola had been up, she'd have been able to think. She could think as Zola's mom. She wouldn't storm up the stairs and wake her. She'd never be that crazy.

He'd said "you've done everything," like Mom said "don't call 911." She'd read the subtext. Hadn't she?

It didn't matter. It was a year and a half ago. Before Zola, and running her own ORs, and Melissa. She was going to be great. They'd been on the way to extraordinary.

They were extraordinary. They were an extraordinary family; she knew that. She just couldn't feel it.

She stomped it against the kitchen floor. She couldn't feel the burn. She needed to feel it. To hurt, and not have to do anything else. Her pain was tiny in comparison to the pain she caused to make people better. One incision to make something better. The green band had broken. She'd put her hair up to arrange books.

Her watch. Under her watch, minimal pressure. A scratch. She didn't get mesmerized by the blood, like the girl she'd screwed who'd had stars carved into her upper-arm.

She wet a folded paper towel. She touched the blade to her wrist. Oh. No. Not there. She wasn't her mother. She didn't want attention. Especially his. If everyone would just mind their own business, (one) and let her take care of things her own, (two) she'd actually be—

Bang!

"Bah! Oh, shit."

"What's with the summit out th—? Mere? What are you….?" Alex didn't finish the question she wished she could come up with an answer that quuickly.

"I-It's not…I'm not gonna pee on your new couch." Her shoulder burned. Not as much as her forearm would've. Maybe a little higher up it wouldn't make her think of Ellis…. She wouldn't find out. She'd slipped. Really slipped; that was longer than she'd…she hadn't wanted to…hadn't meant…. "I'm…I'm seeing the shrink. I'm…pathetic. Can't counter that."

Alex grabbed her wrist, and peeled back the paper towel she was using to pressure on her shoulder. She glanced at it in her periphery, unable to feel the difference between the water and blood. it was over an inch long, at a diagonal. A slash. She'd fucking slashed herself. She was thirty-three years old; Jesus years old! Jesus didn't…. Prophets flagellated. Did messiahs? Tonight he's a baby. She folded her lips in to keep from smiling, maybe laughing at thoughts that never stopped spinning. Fuck, she was spinning.

"This oughta be stitched. Glued, at minimum."

"Could you just wrap it for me? I need to deal with…with the summit out there."

"Meredith."

"Please, Alex?" Her voice broke on the word. Did that make it begging? "I swear, it'll be taken care of. Derek…Derek knows."

"So, what's he doing out—?"

"He knows it happens, not that\ I just went all Silent Night Slasher on myself. He's learned to see the subtler ways I hurt myself, do you think I could've hidden actually doing it?"

"I think you'd try. Bandages?"

Meredith let out a long breath through her nose and pointed him toward the cabinet. "Outside owie triage. We haven't found a cabinet we like for the half-bath. Original went to Lexie's bathroom."

"She's a pistol tonight."

"What'd you hear? Ow!"

"Sorry," he said, crossing a second layer of gauze over the telfa. "It's going to have to be tight. Didn't catch much. Nice insolation on the shed. If your kids start a band, the bears won't be calling in noise complaints."

"That was the idea," Meredith said. Alex tugged her hand toward him. She apologized before realizing she'd brushed her fingers over her midsection. Zola liked music, but never gravitated toward any toy instruments at daycare or the store. Meredith hadn't either, so she hadn't ruled out sharing it with her daughter one day. Another kid would just up the probabilities.

The odds. Mark had been a drummer, too, and she hadn't known until she saw a picture posted on his Facebook as a tribute.

"What I did get was that you're going to be pissed at her for whatever it is. Don't be." Alex cut the wrap and tucked the end into a deeper layer. There was tape in the box; he was underlining that he wanted her to change the dressing was ASAP. "She's never gotten to protect you. Yeah, she's younger, but you've stood up for her plenty. She's doesn't feel like she has much to lose. She's gonna take stupid risks. Don't ice her out for this one."

"Ugh, fine. I might make her give me the eyes. She cannot think just confronting someone based on me venting at her is okay. Maybe, eventually, there would've been action. Tonight? No way." She took a long breath in and pushed off the counter. Alex wouldn't let go of her hand. "Let me loose."

"Were you doing this back then?"

"When?"

"Thanksgiving."

"Uh, it's compli—Wait. The first one? Ours?" He nodded. "Not really. The booze and the boys were enough, until I'd have a Steve, who wanted more than I was capable of giving, or I realized that if an exhausted intern was a liability, a hungover one was dangerous, and…. Hurting myself protected the happy people. Trouble is, that's not true, now."

She didn't feel half as lost as she had then. She felt weighed down, and the freaking pregnancy hadn't even started showing.

S he snatched a Christmas tree shaped cookie that Zola had decorated. The icing was purple. They'd driven around looking at lights twice that week, going over colors. Zola loved them all, but as soon a house with purple lights came into view she'd start laughing, too gleeful to get the word out.

Derek noticed her before she'd gotten to the door. He smiled, and waved for her to come out. She nodded and held up a finger. The first hoodie she found was his.

"You look about Zola's age in that," Alex said.

She flipped him a different finger. The hoodie was warm, worn, and smelled like Derek. The feeling it reminded her of was one that she hadn't experienced much after she was Zola's age.

"Want me to go with?"

She curled her hand around the doorknob. "I want you to call Wilson. I'm not shutting you out. I have more than one person. I'm not sure she does."

Alex shook his head, but took his phone out of his pocket as he walked toward her. "Call. If I don't answer text me…I dunno…." He glanced around the room. His eyes must've landed on Zola's costumes. She'd gotten new scrubs and a lab-coat for her birthday. Christmas would add chef, pirate, and Rapunzel's dress, along with a selection of tiaras; hats, and animal-ear headbands to go with the footie pajamas under the tree. "'Tangled.'"

Meredith laughed. It was perfect. She accepted the hug he gave her, and waited for him to be heading upstairs to open the door.

Derek was waiting for her. She took his hand, but wasn't going to let it look like she needed his support for whatever this would be. He held his arm rigid, keeping her there.

"What?" She glanced at the window. Had be been able to see the whole time? No, the wall lining the stairs blocked the counter where she'd been standing.

"I need to tell you something before you hear what he's going to say."

She snatched her hand back, and crossed her arms. "Did you all work together to come up with a script, or—"

"Hey, hold on." He cupped her face, holding eye contact. "You aren't being handled. You have a right to be upset. Lexie shouldn't have confronted Richard on your behalf. Overstepping is a thing sisters do. It's the most infuriating when it's effective.

"This is going to be okay. I promise."

"You can't—"

"I can promise," he said, and kissed her. "I'm with you. Got it?"

She didn't get it. Her heel was throbbing. If he'd known about the slash, would he say the same thing? Did he? It didn't make a lot of sense that he'd be on her side, if there were sides, when a man who'd mentored him, an authority, was on the other. Oh, she knew he loved her. It just didn't make sense.

"Talk."

"The day your mom was lucid, she said something to me. I could spend a few hours going over those couple months with Dr. Wyatt…maybe I should, just to be sure…. She spooked me. Made me spook. But I'm not the point. She said she'd seen men like me before. Men who were threatened by a woman who's their equal. I just wanted someone to admire me. And I didn't care about the damage I did to you along the way.

"I suddenly understood how you could recite so much of what she'd said. You have a great aural memory, overall, but something about her delivery…the way it felt like she was seeing something deep…. But she didn't know men like me, because she didn't know me."

"She was talking about him," Meredith said, not having to try to keep her voice low. "You still looked up to him, and you were afraid it was true."

"I'd done a lot of damage, Mer."

"But you cared. You cared more than you wanted to. You're not the guy who can breeze through life, and I'm so much better off because of you."

His eyes were doing the shining thing—She was the person he was seeing; more than she'd been then, but the fresh pain on her shoulder made her feel a little like a liar, kissing him. She did it anyway, and wondered if he could sense anything about the rush of chemicals that had rebooted her brain.

He followed her across the porch to where Richard was sitting across from Lexie. He was hunched forward over clasped hands. A prisoner with an interrogator. Meredith stood off to the side, where the nearest lights didn't quite reach. Derek filled in the gap, partially behind her, but giving her room to walk away.

Richard showed no sign of being in a hurry to talk to her.

"So?" she asked.

"You never told me you remembered the carousel."

"You knew I was there. No other reason to meet at a damn merry-go-round. That day was the first time I got separated from her. I don't know who found whom. Mom didn't usually lose track of important accessories. I wonder, sometimes, if she wanted to leave me there. subconsciously. She must've already been thinking of ways to convince you that not only was I not too much; I wasn't enough. The plan she settled on was irrational, who's to say there weren't false starts?

"You'd known me as long as you knew her. But suddenly I was a dealbreaker? The Ellis you loved was always a mother. My mother. Susan wanted Thatcher to be a father, but not my father. Neither of you…. None of you wanted to bother with the girl responsible for making them who they were. Mom got stuck with me."

"Meredith, that's not quite—"

"Do you remember her screaming your name? I do. I heard you tell her 'you have a child.' I listened to her cry for…for a long time. I knew you were mad at her because of me. I knew my father was gone. She was scared, and lonely, and it was so bad that she wanted to die more than she wanted to be my mom. I knew I was too much, and not enough.

"And then, twenty years later, you ditched her again. You hurt her. Made a sick woman relive the worst days of her life. I listened to her cry again. She never should've had a kid. He didn't want kids. And I understood. I'd cost her the love of her life. I'd made her live with that heartbreak, with me as a reminder of it. I'd spent my whole life trying to make up for calling 911. I thought that was my original sin. And even once I understood that it wasn't, I was still blameworthy. Just for existing. For being a funny little girl. I heard you." She stomped her foot as she said it. She didn't mean to, that time, and the pain was jarring. Derek's hands bracketed her arms. She sucked her lip to keep from hissing again.

Richard held his hands up. "I had no idea…. You were the proverbial little pitcher, always listening; storing up questions, but I thought the carousel music, the people…. Unpredictable, even then."

"No! You don't get to do that. You don't get to put it on me. I wasn't 'unpredictable,' I was five. Mom could predict me so well that she knew when I'd disobey her. You say things like that to plant a seed, and pretend you don't have any idea what flower it holds. But you do. You wouldn't be such a good teacher if you didn't."

Richard inhaled, and somehow it was mournful. "It was a Thursday afternoon. We had made a pact. She would leave Thatcher, and I would leave Adele. Not long before, your mother had received word that she'd been put on the Harper Avery short list, as a resident. It was such a coup that it didn't matter that she hadn't been nominated. She was thrilled. And I was...jealous. Not like healthy competition. A hateful, hopeless jealousy...too far ahead to catch up to. Her success illuminated everything I hadn't yet accomplished.

"The night before, as I drank the courage I thought I needed to tell Adele, I thought of your mother. I thought of what she could do at such a young age. I thought of what she would do. And I thought...I will spend my life feeling like this…. My entire life. So I ruined it. Everything after that was my fault. I made the wrong choice for the wrong reason. I'm so sorry."

"You lied to her."

"Yes. I…I knew her doubts, and I played on them.

"You've told me that you didn't regret staying with Adele. On the day Mom was lucid, you said that's why you were avoiding her. Then, you went in and told her everything but that. All about the life we could've had. I get that you might've been painting a pretty pictute for the sick woman."

Now that she was lucid. It was like—no, she thought it was that he didn't think it mattered what he did when she was living in a different time.

"Huh." Derek said, and Meredith tilted her head back to look at him. "It's just…." His grip on her tightened, and he'd be horrified if he knew it hurt, but it helped. It helped to be grounded in the present, and be sure that day was years ago. "The day of your appendectomy, he told me he was a better man for walking away from Ellis. He'd have had too much guilt and baggage to make Ellis happy in the way she deserved."

Meredith snorted and made herself hold eye contact with Richard. "I know a thing or two about feeling that way, and I've spent a lot of time working to get over it. You need to do that, but not at someone else's expense

"I don't know what your situation with Catherine Fox is, but I have seen two of the most independent, fierce women I know be utterly smashed to pieces by the idea of losing you. They put themselves in boxes. They arranged their lives around you.

"You can't blame the scissors, or the weird nuts you took out of people. You have guilt and baggage? Good. You should. You should mourn Adele. You should also work on moving forward without it.

"You have had so much power over so many lives, Richard. And I think…I think you need to consider how you treat people when they're not in a place to do something for you.

"There. Ghosts of Christmas Past, done. Christmas presents, done. Christmas is in the future. We'll try to keep Zola contained until seven, but it'll probably be six-thirty at the latest; consider yourselves warned."

"Mer—"

"Wait…. You want me to stay?"

Meredith wished there was a way for her to address Lexie first, but she'd stopped as soon as Richard spoke, and he'd plowed on. "Yeah. We invited you to come for Christmas.

"None of this is new. I'm gonna be more wary whenever you compare me to my mom, because that usually signals manipulation. I don't deserve that. Not every disaster is my fault. Just seems like I might've been better off quitting general last year, and saying that our history makes a professional relationship too complicated. You took advantage of my crappy boundaries." She rubbed her eyes. Really, that hadn't been an option with Derek's inability to compartmentalize, but with distance, it should've been."

"As for you," she added, turning to Lexie. "I'll text when Zo wakes up, and someone will come down to help you with the 're leaving at eleven?"

"Yeah."

"Great, caterers don't get here 'til noon.

"I don't love that this happened. I kind of hate it. But I love you, and it's Christmas Eve. Cool?"

"Uh. Yeah. I…I love you, too."

She tugged Derek away from them, trying to remember the phone calls she'd overheard between Lexie and Molly or Thatcher. Derek said "I love you" to his mom and sisters all the time, like it was easy. Somehow, he'd made it easy for her. It was simply true. Otherwise, none of this would've worked. Lexie had stumbled over it.

She stopped before the door. She wanted to leave this outside. "You think she figured it out. That's why you made sure I knew what she'd said to you. She knew he'd decided he couldn't live in her shadow."

"Yeah. I don't know when, but—"

"But she didn't blame me. At the end. She knew it was him. That he hadn't looked back to see how much he'd damaged us both."

"I think it's safe to assume, yeah."

She kissed him again, and where she'd felt weighed down before, now she thought she'd be floating if he wasn't holding her. She couldn't say if she was still "grounded in the moment" or if she was at the start of a different kind of spiral, but she didn't care.

Upstairs, Derek didn't take his college hoodie off her. Not then, or at three when she woke him, this time not shaking, or sick, or screaming. Once she'd mounted him, she didn't think it entered into his head to try.