(interlude six)

Taken from the notebook of Meredith Grey

Neuro Pros:

badass

experience: neuroscience classes, tumor trial as a 2nd yr, Mom, DBS case, Katie, Holden, Webber, Dunn, procedures w/Shadow Shepherd

working w/Derek

Ditto Lexie (maybe! She could go w/another service)

Alzheimer's Trial

Always evolving

work w/ortho, plastics, peds (not cardio. boo.)

unlikely saves

Mom hated neuro bros

variety: tumors, tbi, SCI, AVM, aneurysms, neurological diseases, neuropharm, epilepsy

Correcting mistakes (Holden)

Female neurosurgeon still pioneering

Incredible saves

Cons:

dependent on technology

not much work w/cardio

competing w/Derek (specialize?)

only one system

low save rates

Mom told me to

High complication rates

Hours (2 neurosurgeons + kids = ?)

Nelson

Easy to make cascading mistakes (Jen)

Low # of women in the field

Statement of Intent (Draft):

When she thought I was someone else, my mother once told me that she originally wanted to go into cardiothorasic surgery Coming from anyone else that might not be a meaningful statement, so let's get it out there, my mother was Ellis Grey. Two time Harper Avery winner, Ellis Grey. In spite of all of those accolades, I could tell that she wondered what might have been—that she regretted not continuing her streak of not letting other people influence her choices. General surgery and motherhood. In nearly everything else, she listened to the voice urging her forward, and raised me to do the same. Unless the other voice was hers..

The first surgery I scrubbed in on as an intern was an aneurysm clipping under Dr. Derek Shepherd. Reader, I married him. But my fascination with neurosurgery goes back before that. It predates my mother being diagnosed with Alzheimer's, and the time I spent watching her personality and memories unspool. I won't claim that of the medical books I learned to draw from, I preferred The Brain. But as an undergraduate, I had the honor of being taught by Dr. Melanie Blackthorn who would tell us "You're no different from your peers who show so much passion for romance, politics, and philosophy. You simply understand that matters of the heart and of the mind originate from the brain. Understanding this is to understand humanity—and so never let me hear you speak down to humanities scholars. You are one of them." I'd sat down in her class hoping to better understand the science of what made people so different from each other. What I learned was that every brain is , and equally fragile. It's an organ that can't be transplanted. Damage done to it cannot be reversed. To take a scalpel to brain tissue is an act of upmost arrogance.

Dr. Blackthorn told me that she only recommended students for graduate study if they showed "sufficient respect for the person each brain we studied represented." Years later, my mother told me I should be going into neurosurgery to cure her disease. Whether she'd care now that she's not a going concern Before that, she should've been the first to criticize the choice. There are areas of neurosurgery that seem stagnant; the VPS shunt in my baby's brain was designed before the heart-lung machine. There are damaging conditions that can't be diagnosed until autopsy. Often while describing neuro-processes we have to say we think. that can be maddening for scientific people. It also means progress is possible.

The brain is not a computer, but that insufficient analogy is the first that comes close to explaining the workings of neurons. It's one most people wouldn't have been able to conceptualize forty years ago. And yet, ancient skulls with perfect holes drilled in them, accompanied by signs of healing that mean they were not acquired postmortem suggest that neurosurgeries could have been the earliest performed. Whether this would be disproven if tissue fossilized, the fact remains, for millennia humans have sought to resolve trauma to the brain. There are those who theorize that these early Burr holes were meant to release demons. If so, they might at least have conceived of mental illness in relation to the brain, which is more than billions of descendants to come.

Derek had long accepted that he'd never stop being surprised by his wife. He had not been prepared for how many new, endearing discoveries having a baby would bring. One of those was her propensity for rewriting the lyrics of kids' songs—"Most of them are creepy as hell, anyway!"— Whether she knew the actual lyrics or not, she had an impressive memory for the tunes, and her revisions fit the rhythm of the original words. Hearing the ones she came up with made it easier to picture her writing for the bands she'd played with as a young adult. ("Not like I ever fronted. My voice is barely good enough to harmonize. Just...doesn't every teenager have one or two songs worth of angst in them?") Idioms, clichés, things "they" said, those weren't her thing but if she was left free to stop questioning herself over them, she had a way with words.

"You are my sunshine my only sunshine/you make me happy/and I'm a Grey/I hope I you know, Zo, how much I love you/no one will ever take you away.

"Out in the forest/when we weren't sleeping/we wished to have you in our arms/and when we're with you, this I can promise/forever we want to stay."

Derek lingered in the hall for what felt like an eternity before turning into Zola's room. It hadn't been long enough. As much as he loved overhearing her remixes, he hated her reaction to being observed. She could be so unselfconscious, but at these moments, he'd see her eyes go blank, like they had the day he'd pulled her out of the bath. As though she wanted to erase that part of herself before letting him see it. If he reacted to it, she'd retreat further.

"Momma's only sunshine, huh?" he said, pocketing the phone he'd left the room to answer. "That's because Daddy's been stormy and a…?"

"Mee-ball." Zola slid off Meredith's lap and went over to her toy box, singing "O'toppa s'aghetti, all cober'n cheese," her favorite of the goofy songs in Meredith's repertoire. Her fake sneeze was coming along.

"I'm sorry I was mean to Liz today," Meredith said. "I want Zola to know your family, but…. She's two, and she's already had so many people come in and out of her life…lost so many people…."

He almost had to ask when, but then recalled the last exchange of the meeting. He'd only heard Meredith's bitterness about the daycare situation when she told Liz she couldn't visit. The scare with Lexie, minimal as it was, made them both consider what could've happened, and they reacted in opposite ways. He was reminded that she'd always have the safety net of her Shepherd aunts. Meredith worried that she'd get attached to someone who went across the country, never to be seen again—God, Liz was right, they really had to visit.

"So've you," he pointed out. She shrugged. "My sisters are intrusive," he acknowledged. "They're finally accepting that this is my life,, and they want to be part of it. They want to know you. Some of that is wanting to know me. It's also…we're protective, but once you're in, you're in. They want to make you part of the family."

"So you say." She eyed him for a moment, and then turned to Zola while she spoke. "You know you won't be beholden to them afterward? Unless you want to be."

"I don't know about 'beholden,' but… I do want…I…I miss them. I do want to share more of our lives with them. In real time."

"We can do that."

"I can do that. It's not on you to keep my sisters updated. They just think they do everything better with their husbands, so they're used to being the ones who deal with the in-laws."

"I do 'at," Zola put in, punctuating herself with a few plinks on her xylophone.

"She is better with my phone than I am," he said. "Hey, mini-meatball, it's still night-night time. You've had some big days, and tomorrow's another one. You're going to a party." He lifted her up with his right arm. Chances were that he wouldn't know by the time of the wedding, but his body would. Liz's nerves would be waking in his wrist, or they wouldn't be.

"Bir'day?"

"Not yet." Meredith's hands were tightened on the crib rail she'd just lowered. Next week, there'd be a toddler bed in its place.

"Can you show us how old you'll be? How many years?"

"Two many," Zola said, holding up what could generously be called two and a half fingers.

"Too many is right," Meredith murmured, gently adjusting her hand. He remembered her doing that to teach her the few baby signs they'd used, a life-saver when she'd come back to them nearly non-verbal, but hadn't lasted. It was troublesome that just having them talk to her had returned her to babbling, and then forming words within a few weeks. She'd more than caught up, but not every kid would have.

"Alex has the next group coming in January?"

"Hm? Oh, yup. They're going to be so impressed by you, big girl."

"They better be impressed by you," he said, wrapping his arm around her waist. She curled into him while her hand circled on Zola's back, surprising him a little. She'd had a big day, too.

"I'm gonna get her the doll," Meredith said, softly. His breath caught, and he worried that smiling might make her retreat.

A month ago, Bailey had come to work crowing about the new line of "Teach Me Anatomy" dolls. It featured a male doll with the required anatomical changes, and all of them wore scrubs and a lab coat identifying them as "Dr. Anatomy."

("Nice that they gave the Black doll her own identity," Miranda had said. "Barbara Roberts would not have been called Barbie in my neighborhood, and while it'd be nice to live in a world where a Black woman could be president, an astronaut, and a vet, but I draw the line at believing she'd own a camper.")

"Uh-huh. Worst case, it stays on the shelf for a year or so. We can put the organs in a bag or something, and let her play with them supervised until we know she won't swallow them. And if…. There are books, but it's a harder concept in 2-D. I want her to get it, as much as she can. That's the one thing…. Even having had Anatomy Jane, I don't think I really…. I don't know when I…. There must've been a talk, right?"

Zola's presence had shown a light on her tendency to refer to those first five years as her childhood. What she could say for certain about the next couple of years was bleak enough that it probably was better that they were blurry. Her prodigious recall didn't kick in again until she was nearly eight, with a very different perspective than she'd had at five.

It would not have shocked him to find out that Ellis Grey had believed that giving Meredith Anatomy Jane was a sufficient stand in for the "Where do babies come from?" talk. The note in Meredith's voice, though made him wonder if there was something else there. Some embarrassment caused by not knowing, maybe.

"She'll love it," he assured her, meaning both the doll and the baby. There was an amount of selfishness in not pursuing the inkling, but she had enough to deal with right now. No doubt it'd surface again over the next few months.

It'd broken his heart to see her look away from the ultrasound. She'd been excited in his office the day of the shooting, saying she had something to tell him. She would've gotten scared—nothing had come easily for her, even then, but she'd had so much more hope.

Zola fell asleep with one hand on Rawr, and a halo of other guys surrounding her. GiGi had a place of honor on the dresser right in her sightline.

Meredith stayed pressed against him, letting him lead her down the hall to their room. "Who called?" she asked.

"The lawyer, to schedule a deposition. He thinks we have a strong case, especially now that Cristina and Owen are getting divorced."

She tensed at the mention of Owen, and he ran his hand over the magenta plaid of her sleeve. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, it'd be a big conflict of interest if Owen was married to one of the plaintiffs. That's why they got divorced, right?"

Every time Hunt and Yang's relationship unraveled further, the parallels gnawed at him. The red-haired partner wanting to reset after committing infidelity, even when their spouse moved across the country to start over—even the question of having kids was part of it. The triangle wasn't fully equilateral—Mark been Derek's best friend, but he'd been close to Addison for as long as Teddy had been to Hunt, but that hadn't been how it played out.

Meredith gave him a blank look.

"She didn't tell you?"

"No…. Why would she not tell me that?"

He hesitated. What Owen had done was cruel in a different way. But Cristina hadn't left him over it. Meredith would say that she couldn't get up on a high whatever after prom, but they all knew she'd have made a different choice.

"You didn't tell her you're pregnant," he pointed out. He envied that Cristina had gotten to see her purely happy the first time, but he'd understood. Their "personhood" had started over a pregnancy. "Maybe things are different now."

"She didn't tell me he had a sister, either. That's…. It's his thing, I get that, but it's—He makes so much more sense."

"Does he?" He sat on the bed, pulling her with him.

"Well…yeah. You don't think so? The PTSD being about her? Of course he didn't want to get it treated! He didn't feel like…like he'd earned it. I'm not saying…. He strangled Cristina, that's not okay, but I do…. I see why the reluctance. And then basically going through that again with his wife? No wonder he's been so screwy."

"That I can't imagine," he admitted. "Any time Amelia has gone AWOL it's been horrible, and it's never been for longer than a few weeks. Four years."

"As long as we've known him. As long as Cristina's known him. Would that…? Do you think it'd change what you thought about having kids?"

He considered it, running a hand through her hair.

Hunt's eyes had been haunted; that had been his primary thought when Meredith had left them, making sure Director Wench—Welch—knew that she wasn't encouraging Zola's great escape, but she wouldn't follow arbitrary rules.

"We're Irish-Catholic. Big families. But our parents, they told us where that came from. About how the Church hadn't shifted to account for modern medicine—We were a small family, really. Mom and Dad knew they didn't need to have fifteen kids to have four live to adulthood, but they think there was merit in having that many. They'd say it didn't hurt to have spares. And it looks like my sisters bought into that, right? On the surface.

"Kath married a guy with two kids. They had Stevie, and the fourth wasn't planned. Liz has only had three pregnancies thanks to the triplets. Nan's the only one who really set out to have five.

"Every one of those kids was a choice. It's not like the days where you named one after their dead older sibling. They knew no one could fill a gap someone else left. And maybe it suggests the opposite that Amy and I waited the longest…But I think…I think maybe it took me longer to see that it's worth it. That even though every person you love is someone else you can lose, they're worth it."

"Zola would've been worth it. If...If she hadn't come home…If we'd only had those weeks…. I wouldn't regret anything. I don't." She sat up, her hands on his shoulders. Tears blurred her eyes, fogging her irises. "I don't regret, or resent…or…or whatever you—"

"I know. I don't—Listen, love. Just listen to me for a minute. You are a talented surgeon. You would've succeeded in any specialty you wanted to take on. That's what makes this difficult. Because I'm going to tell you what I know now—What Lexie made me realize, and what I've come to see myself in the past few months…and it might not change a thing. I closed a door on you…. No, I made you close it, and that's worse. That doesn't mean you would've gone through it, or you should've, but you could have."

"I had to have a consequence. You lost—"

"A part of my job. Not the same."

"It…It was a good reason—Teddy kicked Cristina off her service all the time!"

"Because she couldn't teach her. I could teach you, Meredith. I can. Teaching you is, in fact, the teaching I'm most confident about—"

"Well, you can't be my boss. I-I don't listen. I break rules, and I go behind your back, and I-I still think…know…I did the right thing."

He took a breath, trying to model it subtlety. Her eyes were moving back and forth, a level of hyper-vigilance he associated with conversations about her mother. Her mother who'd closed so many doors.

"Maybe you did. I don't know. That's why I was so intent on the rules—they're there because surgeon shouldn't make those calls…."

I put you on that trial: We were both too close to it. Surgeons need to be able to detach, yes, but everyone has a limit. Residency is when you learn that…when you're supposed to. Because you were…you, and because we were taking steps out of order in our personal lives, I let it happen at work, too. That was my mistake. When there was something I couldn't teach you, I should've delegated. I should've modeled that, and encouraged you to do it with Adele."

She wrinkled her lips. Her not being Adele's physician might not have changed anything, but it should've been that way regardless.

"When it comes to determining who is family, and who is not, I have to consider who you are. Mer…Richard wasyour boss. Talk about a goddamn conflict of interest."

"Sh-Shouldn't I have come to you? When he…. He didn't really ask, I just—I should've told you."

"I would've stopped you. I would've used the placebo."

"You'd have been protecting the trial—"

"And my career. My career," he repeated, holding up his left hand. "I was not the only person who could run that trial. There are techniques I've figured out…problems I've solved, and not seen anyone else…. Maybe someone, but I still want to make sure….

"Not the point. The point is…. The point is, as terrifying as the idea of losing you to Alzheimer's is, I should've considered the time I was depriving us of through my reaction. If I was going to be selfish, that's where my mind should've been.

"You have a list of reasons why it's better for you to be a general surgeon. I haven't seen it," he added, preempting that flash of blankness. (How many rejections had it taken to make her so afraid of being known?) "I'm not asking you to give anything up. I don't have that right. I am saying I'm sorry. And I'm asking…I'm asking you to let me teach you."

"What?"

"Let me teach you. Whenever, at whatever pace. Wherever. Here, in the skills lab, during procedures you're free to watch. Maybe, if you want… if you decide at some point that you want to, we'll make it official. Maybe not.

"I didn't teach Amelia. I'm not sure I could have, but I didn't even try. I've taught Lexie, some. We've had a couple of promising residents come through, but you I got to work with from the start. If this procedure takes, or if it doesn't, I want to finish….to teach you what I should've last year. If you never go near another skull, that's okay. You'll know, and if I don't get a chance to teach anyone else—"

"You will! Shane's—Well, I think he created your Wikipedia page, which is a little creepy, but he's eager."

"I'd be starting over with him. We almost left this year, and we've got the lawsuit—what if we win? We don't know…. Mer, we don't know what will happen tomorrow. I'm good at dreaming, but actually looking ahead? I'm slightly better at that than I am at looking back—But I have been doing that, going over all of it…. That case I claimed was a second chance—a last chance? You made a resident's mistake, and I…I set you up for it.

"They took Zola from your arms, and you would've lain down anything to fight for her. I knew that as your husband, as your teacher, as your boss. I know what being her mom means to you. I should've been just as—"

"I could've chosen this anyway."

"You weren't going to."

"You don't—! I don't know that!. I really, really don't. I majored in neuroscience, barely, and, yeah, I loved it—The brain is…but there's a lot we don't understand about the gut biome, and the way the system works. I was gonna have to get good at something besides inoperable tumors, so we could work in the same place, and Lexie was leaning that way before she took my—" Her hand flew to her mouth. His first thought was that the stress of the day, or actually eating dinner had made the wave of nausea hit her early. Then, he realized what she'd been about to say, and all he could do was laugh.

"What? You're...you're laughing at me right now? Seriously?"

"Seriously. I've never heard you sound so much like a big sister. Jealous, but willing to give her what she wants.

"Lexie could never take your place. You've got similarities, but you're not interchangeable. You brought different things to the same surgery. And…I love your sister. She's great to teach, and sometimes easier, but…it's not what I have with you."

"Really? I mean, I know it's different…. That we're different. But it's not just an O.R. thing. We have it with Zo. Raising her, taking care of her. I want that…I want that more than I ever want to be in an OR with…. More than I want to be in an O.R. "

"You'll have it. Our family comes first. We come first."

"I do miss it. You'd think…. You know that feeling you told me about, where sometimes you just know what's coming? I get that—where I know what needs to happen, even if i've never learned it. I guess I picked more up from watching Mom than I realized, except…except it happened more in your O.R."

"In neuro O.R.s?" She shrugged again, then nodded. "Because you have more confidence there. You trust your instincts…."

Or she had. There'd been some questioning right after everything went downhill last year, and he'd regretted that. As hard as they could be to justify, her instincts in the O.R. were prodigious. A reminder that where most of them had been trained, she was made.

"You just want to finish teaching me?"

"Not sure I'll ever be finished teaching you. But yeah. I know what I wanted to get to last year; required procedures you hadn't seen. I've had a sixth and seventh year curriculum planned since I got here, but no one has gone neuro. If you want them to count with AANS, you'd have to have a chance to scrub in. That's…That's a decision. but they're not once-in-a-lifetime cases. Just to start, there are some articles I can recommend, based on the reading you've been doing for Lexie."

"Oh. You—Obviously you noticed."

"Yeah. And I wondered if there was more to it. I didn't want you to think there had to be, if it was all for her. You…you've been in my corner through all of this—"

"Because you're my husband. Derek, you have twenty years and a whole lot of talent on me. I am never going to let you waste that if it's possible to avoid it."

"I love you." You are so much better than me.

"You're not still mad that I called your sisters?"

"You are unbelievable." She was kneeling on the bed, in the position she'd sprung to when she'd cut off her complaint about Lexie taking her place. He grabbed her under her armpits and eased her down. "I have wanted to do this since eight o'clock this morning," he informed her, undoing the first button of her shirt.

"Hey, I already took my pants off in front of you once today. Usually that's your favorite view."

"When you don't look like you'd rather be anywhere else, sure.."

"I've never had to pee that badly in my life," she insisted, a study of petulance. "That's before she had to press the wand against my bladder. There's gotta be a better way to do that."

"I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I've been distant since my sisters became a factor in this."

"You've gotten up with me every morning."

As though being there when she was sick was enough; when he knew the nightmares that had been waking her through the night had featured Gary Clark. When he was the only person who knew why she went pale whenever she had to use the restroom, because she might find spotting. When everything was piled on top of the experience of having a second baby, and not having delivered the first.

He undid another button, and placed another kiss the skin they revealed. Her belly was still slightly concave. "When did I last do this? Hm? Make sure you feel what you deserve to be feeling right now?"

"There hasn't been—I've been passing out at Zola's bedtime, and…and you're the one going into surgery tomorrow."

"All that means is I don't get to untie that red dress for you," he said, moving up to kiss her lips before he pulled the shirt back to strip it altogether. "And that's a shame."

She made a sound of agreement while tipping her head back to give him more access to her neck. Her breasts undulated with the move and she closed her eyes. He couldn't tell if it was good or not. They were sensitive at baseline. f the tenderness was worse than it'd been when it landed on her Pregnancy Test? list, he could avoid them.

"Baby, you and Lexie need a mall trip," he informed her as the front clasp popped.

Her sigh had agreement in it, but it was mostly relief. "Just bought these." There was a mark where they'd been spilling out of a bra trying its best, but not made for growth. He ran a finger over it, barely making contact. "Ooh, yes, that."

"Yeah?" He preceded carefully, rubbing the red line, and occasionally flicking her nipple with his thumb. It hardened quickly, with Meredith finally grabbing his wrist and slamming his hand against her. There was definitely pain at the edge of the moan that followed, but it barely tinged the pleasure.

He thought of the way she'd handled her tits last summer, where a much firmer underwire had dug in, and pressed his fingers down, less focused on her nipples, which was usually what she wanted. That had been his trick for not having full use of both hands; sucking and flicking were equally appreciated. He sat back as she bucked against his leg, a spark going straight from his hand downward.

"What're you…? Derek, no!"

"I'm not doing anything that's going to hurt, sweetheart," he said, lowering his bare left hand to cup her breast. "They're gonna cut it open tomorrow, and put Liz's nerves in. I could leave it off tonight"

"You won't," she insisted, her eyes as stern as she could make them when her body was jerking under his hands.

"I won't. But that feels so much better now, doesn't it?" he asked, with both hands kneading her. She didn't answer him directly, but he heard it in the mangled curse she did let out.

"Ye—fu-sweet mother-fug…ah, yeah! Derek…I think I can…gonna…." Her legs, which had started moving furiously, planted, and he saw how she was straining against the seam of her jeans.

"Off?"

"Yeah, yeah, fast. Fast, I can…No, don't. Don't…." She moaned again, throwing herself to the side. Her hands already busy filling in for his. Assuming he'd correctly interpreted her stopping him from sliding his fingers into place on her clit, which had been glistening in the glimpses he'd gotten watching her squirm her pants down off her hips, they were in uncharted territory.

"Hey, you, are those spidery little fingers what you need right now?"

"Can't—oh, oh, fuck, I…yes, yes, okay, there. You, yeah you got it…think I can come like this. Can we—?"

"Beautiful, i've wanted to do this for you for years. You're gonna tell me if it's too much."

"Yeah. I will, I will. It's like…like it should be, they're tender but it's…oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, I don't…I neeed…." She bucked upward, her left leg twisting, searching, he realized, for his.

"You could—"

"Noooo. I wanna do this. I just—it's—Unh—"

"Okay, okay. Here, cross your legs. There, just like that. That feel better?"

"Uh-huh. I-I-Oh-oh, more! Just…Just…." Her hands, which she'd lain on to keep them away from her—he'd admit, very tempting—clit, went crazy in her hair. He watched her face, but with all of her pleasure balancing on one side of pain, he couldn't trace the source of her expressions. It hadn't been that long since she'd ignore twisted limbs and rug burn for his benefit, but there was possible because she rarely felt real pain once she got going. He'd learned to look to make sure she wasn't doing something she'd regret once the oxytocin left her system.

Sweat beaded up on her chest, and he traced her collarbone with his tongue. Her spine rose fully off the bed as she thrust. "Want you in me so bad. Can't stop clenching. Feels so good. Dunno if it helps or just—" Her foot twitched, reminding him only a little bit of a caught fish, and she tipped her head back again. The chain of moans that followed were throatier than usual, almost a bark. The croak they died out on he knew better.

He kissed her, breathing with her as he worked with her rhythm. She gave him her sounds directly: the ones that would dry her mouth out before she realized her mouth was open.

It wouldn't have worked if he hadn't known so much about what she liked, what she needed, which tiny mewls meant fuck, almost too good, and which meant, ow, actually, ow. It surprised him how much was the same as her climax approached. It'd been a while since !they'd gotten her off without being able to track the shifting of her clit.

Her hands went to his shoulders, pulling her body taut, just as much tension coursing through her as ever. There was no way the bouncing wasn't going her friction between her legs, but he knew that one success would have her experimenting, unless and until she couldn't stand it. He'd do this for her in whatever configuration she wanted, if she got to the point of splitting hairs.

"Oh-oh, there, there, there I go-ohhh—!" Her legs dropped open, her pelvis thrusting, and then her whole body curled up toward him. He lightened his hold, in case the lemme go, too-much that usually marked her being close—that was why this had never worked before—manifested, and he needed to move his hands ASAP. She drooped against him, shifting her shoulders enough that he brought his hands around to her back. Her chest rested against his, so she wasn't to the point of no contact. Interesting. Could change in any number of ways over the next few months.

Her whole body was going to change. The possibilities there made him decide to rouse her, rather than letting her recover her bossy streak. He rolled her onto her back, and she left her legs where they landed; a clear invitation. She sighed as his finger made contact with her clit. After a minute or so of light strokes to accompany her twitches, he started giving her nerves something new to process.

"I could watch you light up like this forever."

"One day, you're gonna say that, and it's gonna be game on," she promised, before lapsing into the hums that only came when she'd been sated, and was fully invested in what he was doing right then, not what was next. Usually, while he played with her just like this.

"You deserve it, Mer. You're my sunshine."

She blew a raspberry at him. "I'm a stormy Grey."

"Doesn't matter. You make me so happy. You and Zola. You're enough."

"Der—"

"I'm not saying I don't want to work, or that you shouldn't. And it's not—I'm not saying we don't need anyone else.

"ou see so much. I can't imagine I've fooled you. I'm not great at making friends."

Frowning was an obvious struggle for her. (How could he make that true more often?) "You have friends. Callie."

"She's your friend. And Mark's. I'm an inheritance/."

"Owen. You're mad at him, but…mmm, that's distraaacting…."

"I didn't know about his sister, either. And I know we're guys, it's different, but…."

"But you and Mark were real friends not dude bros. I get it."

It wasn't exactly that. It was….. He'd commiserated with Owen the previous summer, while they were building a deck to avoid their wives, but Hunt was so naturally taciturn. Derek didn't feel like he'd come to understand him more, or that his advice did any good.

"I know you've been kinda lone-wolf without him, I just didn't—"

"I'm not making that your problem." He took her clit carefully between two fingers and circled.

"Not….You get alla mine…. Alex needs not bro-y guys. Oh, and Ben fishes, or camps, or stuff, and, and—oh, oh that feels so good. Could still…game on."

"You need rest tonight, my love."

"I could falla'sleep, an' you just keep going. Might make the dreams better. You're getting a long nap tomorrow."

She'd never say something like that in her usual state of mind, and he loved that she would at all. Some night, he'd happily see if she slept more soundly, but he didn't think he could handle seeing the nightmare take hold of her, even being explicitly allowed. Choice was something he tried to give her whenever he could— Jesus, had he really not seen how close to the wall she'd been that night?—He wasn't going to risk letting something she loved like this be perverted by the mechanisms that transformed real stimuli into the details of a bad dream.

He'd seen Lexie's distress enough to know that an eidetic memory might not be ideal. Still, he wished for it as he focused, trying to collect images, to make up for the time he'd wasted being surly. He'd know what, if anything, changed before he had the next chance to spread her legs and watch her transform.

"Still think you could fall asleep?" he asked, pressing her puffy labia and just barely teasing her clit, which was erect and spongy, demanding to be rubbed. Meredith wasn't demanding, he noted. Any number of other times, he'd been told to go harder, loudly, crudely, sweetly, earlier. She was happy with this, and trusted his follow through.

"Uh-uh. Never…ahhh…. Never sleep. Just this, just—oh yeah, ohhh I'm gsssah, Wait, Derek, Derek, what about….? Promised I'd—" She pushed herself up into her forearms. "I didn't finish my cannoli this morning."

"I'm gonna rain check that."

"Pain management doesn't count as cashing in," she determined, lying back. Her hands went to her breasts, and he could see the abstract potential of climax become something she could have, and suddenly needed desperately. She rocked against his hand, crying out with pleasure from almost no contact.

"Take me, now? Finish me?" The plea in her voice, the tiny bit of uncertainty. He: wanted to free his cock and do it; plow her into the gooiest, loosest version of herself, but then, tomorrow was his surgery, the wedding, Zola's birthday, Christmas, the lawsuit—all before next year. The conversation that should've happened a year ago would get dropped into the past again.

"I will, baby," he said, his left hand on her cheek, the right keeping her just stimulated enough that she wouldn't think he was stopping. She knew he finished what he started, but sometimes vulnerability took her backward. In her experience, that made people more likely to leave. "If that's what you want."

"Mmm. Game on rain check?"

"Absolutely. Should get you good sleep. But, listen, it's early enough, if you want a little more help there—"

"Uh uh. Don't need meds."

"Would you let Lexie tell you that? You got pretty concerned at the PCAs notes about Jed sleep, and those numbers were higher than what I'd report for you."

"'M not hurt. Not sick—diseased."

"You're growing a person. Mer, I want you to let me teach you. I need you to let me take care of you. Let me be your doctor."

She looked back at the tumor on the wall, and he smiled as a tremor ran through her, leaving her panting. "Lex…She mentioned being your nurse. The diaper. Hardcore. Told her…told her t'do that we had to know our bodies better when we're not in surgery. To-to-tooooo-ahh-ahh-agg, yes—I'm not…I'm not that ha-abh—"

"You are very hardcore. And you're going to be focused on work. Lexie. Stuff I can't predict. That's okay. You'll focus on the baby when there is one." Her lips formed an if. He ran his thumb over them. "Let me focus on you."

Let me do something right for you.

Let me make coming to me worth it.

Let me love you without strings. I swear I can do it. I've been watching you.

He had to pull away from her to get his pants off, and she was so ready, it shocked him that her hands stayed splayed by her sides; not grabbing for him, or soothing the ache where her clit had expanded as though it wasn't going to let her tits take the prize.

She didn't try to get on top, either. She was more exhausted than he'd assumed. He propped her ass up on pillows and slid into her. The engorgement of her clit went both ways, and she finally reacted like the firecracker she was, rubbing herself along him until her body begged for mercy. She clenched, but not involuntarily.

"Nuh-uh," he told her, stroking her calves and then the bottom of one foot to get her to loosen up. "You're ready to come, you come."

"Not ready," she protested, although her groan when he circled her with his knuckle suggested otherwise.

"You can only hold so much in there."

"You're gonna be shocked at what…what might be gonna happen here," she said. Something in her face made him sure she'd just thought about the endpoint. Not her insistence that she'd miscarry, but what would happen when she didn't. The flash of fear was too big to be about anything else.

"You mean how you're holding our baby in here, and you're gonna get too big to do this yourself?" He toggled her glans, and even that small movement resonated in her cunt. "That really why you want me to have two working hands?"

"Nah, Got your mouth for that." She smirked, but he noticed her relief when he couldn't repress a groan at the thought of eating her out to distract her from the discomfort of sharing her body with their baby. Aside from never failing to delight her—a verb he chose fully aware of who he was applying it to—the significance was related to Arizona's difficulty accepting the loss of her leg, the betrayal he felt whenever his hand trembled; Lexie's determination to exert some control over her body. There was more to that, more he needed to think about Meredith's injuries, body, mind—

She rocked on his dick, taking control before he knew he was rubbing her to the rhythm she'd set. "Tell me," she gasped, her right arm hooking over his neck. He was braced with his unbraced left hand, the right working her glans between her labia, ready to follow its retreat. She was starting to pull back herself, wanting and afraid of being overpowered.

"Tell…tell me what you wanna teach me….ahhh…that was…feel it Der?…oh-yeah, oh-yeah like that like that—I wanna…needta know it's…. We're still us."

"Anything beautiful, anything, my gorgeous girl,," he babbled, desperate stalling to give his mind time to produce anything that wasn't her, her scent, the heat of her body, the way she was squeezing him, making sure he experienced the tremors that were keeping her just on the brink. "I owe you a butterfly glioma."—He'd admitted to putting that puzzle together ages ago, and she hadn't managed to deny it—"There was…an article on…vagus nerve stimulation for epilepsy treatment…. You need more work with craniofacial nerves…. Haven't had a moyamoya case….The results of…of the Barrow Ruptured Aneurysm Trial will be out next year…."

He stammered through an off the dome curriculum for the time he'd refused to teach her, teasing out her shuddering, seizing climax. It'd been a long time since he'd quizzed her, or told her success stories in bed. Their lives were so much more than medicine, now; pillow talk about it was usually related to the process of sex; the beauty and bizarreness that brought them together. Now, it'd made a baby. He hoped she'd see that as something as miraculous as did, eventually. That she'd let him remind her of what a miracle she was.

She passed the point of being able to hear him, words tumbling from her rapturously. "Feels so good, still still still, yeah, flick me, flick me—oh, oh there it is, don't stop, fuck, coming—Derek, Derek, come okay? 'Cause, 'cause I'm gonna be gonna be so…. I'm—I'm—still not done, it's not done, oh-oh-fuck, fuck yeah, yeah, it's so much Der; there's so much in me still still so so so—ahhhhh yessssss."

Her cunt contracted, so incredibly, perfectly tightly. He held off, waiting to be sure she could stand it; looking for the twists he knew better than his own tells. She'd be upset if he pulled out to finish, but he wouldn't have been able to keep going in spite of her discomfort, whatever she said. If it got her going again, it wouldn't be fair; she'd wanted to be finished. What she wanted, what she needed, what she trusted him with—She deserved it all.

"I'm sorry, Mer. I'm so, so sorry. You deserved that choice. You should never, ever have thought Lexie could take your place. You're, God, baby, you're so good, so patient, so brave. You're the best mom, best sister, best friend, best-best-best wife. I—ahh—love you so much. Need you here and in the O.R. Need you everywhere."

Through everything they'd gone through, all the misery and joy, she'd held her tongue. While he'd complained about a new hire fumbling a save she could've made by now, and maybe a year ago. When he'd been willing to give up something he'd held up as equal to her and Zola.

"You've got me." She beamed, one hand on his cheek, the other taking hold of his balls. "You know that, don't you? You feel it. Everything feels so good, doesn't it? You don't want it to be over. But this is only tonight. We got home. Zola has both parents. We're gonna have so many nights," she said, the tickle of her voice in his ear, her hand squeezing, kneading, her tongue darting in and out against his earlobe.

He came forcefully, jerking straight up toward her navel. "Sweet Jesus."

Meredith sighed as she arranged herself along the curve of his body. "Bullseye."

"Mmm." He kissed the back of her head. "Good and deep, huh? The one time it doesn't matter."

"Says who?"

"If it feels good to you? Not me."

"Better." She took his left hand in both of hers, her index finger tracing the straight lines of the surgical incisions and the more jagged original injury. "You did this for me. Not only, but you heard me. You wanted to get to me. So don't believe I've ever made any kind of great sacrifice compared to you."

"Mer…. Let's call it even, We need to learn to take the equality we have here to work. We need to balance my experience, and your instincts."

"You won't see me as the shiny-eyed intern forever?"

"I don't….—Even if you decide to re-train, you're still board-certified. You're Zola's mom. Lexie's sister. You're my wife. You're a great teacher. You're an attending. Your eyes shine. All of those things are you."

"Hmph." She was falling asleep on him. He peppered her shoulder with kisses, nudging her gently until she rolled over, landing in almost the same position they'd left Zola in. He collected their discarded clothes for the hamper and brought her pajamas over.

She'd sat up and was holding his brace up for him. He placed his hand and let her strap the high-grade Velcro that had gotten soft over the past few months. Once she was done, she brought it up to her lips, kissing his knuckles.

"You still going to love me if it doesn't work?" he asked.

"Don't be an idiot. It's not like it was with Izzie. Not your choice. Will you love me….humph…I'm shaped like a meatball?" Her yawn made the middle word unintelligible. Was it if or when? Did she even know?

"No matter what, sunshine. Lights?"

"I'm not that. Off."

"You are my sunshine. There's not a thing you can do about it," he told her, pulling her against him once more. One day he'd figure out how to get the blinders she wore off permanently, not just when she succeeded in the O.R. She'd see her own light, the one that kept him from being overwhelmed by the dark.

A/N: This site decided to send me several months worth of emails this week, and I got to see the reviews that'd been left on this fic. Thank you all so much! If you catch any typos, lmk, please. I first went through this while I wasn't seeing as well, and I think I caught most errors, but can't be 100% sure.