"Oh, this isn't weird," Callie said, climbing into the passenger seat of the facilities van Derek had appropriated. Lexie felt like they were gathering a crew for a heist.

They sort of were.

She'd spent a lot of her time in the back of vans latealy. That didn't make this situation less weird.

First of all, she was sitting in the seat, which had been an ordeal and a half. The chalky aftertaste of a pill had taken over her mouth, but her water bottle was with her powerchair, and that was in Mer's car.

"I know," Derek said. It was possible Lexie had pointed that out too many times."But I wanted to meet outside the hospital. And then with the rain..."

"No, I like it. It's very cloak-and-daggery. Hey Lex," Callie said. Lexie lifted her hand, but before she could say anything, Mr. Grossberg leaned forward.

"You must be Dr. Torres."

"Oh, God!" Callie actually hit the roof. Lexie cracked up.

"Callie Torres, Stan Grossberg," Derek said using his everyone around me is insane voice."He's my financial advisor."

"I think I might have died for a second."

"I think I'm dying." Lexie wheezed pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, but it only left teeth marks. Who knew how nice it was to be capable of cupping your hands? "Your face."

"All right, Lexie."

"Ok, come on. I know this is serious, but that was gold."

"I asked him about the feasibility of our idea. Stan, tell her what you told me. Lexie, do you need water?"

"She does that to so many patients with dislocations. It's great. And I don't have to feel like an asshole the way I do when it's Meredith."

Derek inclined his head. Meredith startled easily and hilariously, but it was Because of Reasons. This was just fun.

"Can we do it to Cristina?" she asked, half listening to Stan explaining the situation again.

Derek caught her eye. She expected the come on, Lexie look. He tapped his nose instead. Yes! For once his tendency to prioritize loyalty over logic benefited her.

She'd messed up, confronting Webber, but Mer had been obviously upset about being ghosted last night. Lexie had sent her a couple of texts, too, on the off chance she'd blocked Derek or something. They'd gone just as unanswered.

"….physicians cannot own and run the hospital for which they work."

"I'm home free. Forget the rest of you, it's my hospital now."

"Lexie."

He was so predictable sometimes.

"I thought you were still technically employed," Callie said.

"Nope. As of yesterday, my license needs renewal, and Cahill nixed my contract. Until we figure this out I am unemployed and uninsured."

"We're handling it," Derek and Stan chorused.

"But we're hosed?" Callie asked.

"You could ally yourselves with a for-profit or not-for-profit agency, which would be owner pro forma. Then, the six of you could form your own management company, which would be hired by this foundation."

"So, we're not hosed?"

"We'd sort of be doing what Hunt is doing, but the other organization wouldn't be in charge. We would," Lexie explained.

Stan nodded. "Exactly so. You would run the day-to-day operations, much like a board of directors."

Watching the conversation Arizona and Callie had with their eyebrows reminded Lexie of being a kid, riding in the car while her parents sniped. The major blow-outs were rare, probably because Dad usually gave in to whatever Mom said. She drove, she picked where they went on vacation, what they did on holidays, and that'd made sense. Dad didn't have much in terms of family; he'd grown up moving between distant relatives and group homes. Often, he was doing something for the first time along with Lexie and Molly. She couldn't imagine him parenting without that guidance, and Ellis hadn't given it. She wouldn't have had time. Starting an internship with a newborn? It must've been exhausting. Dad had taught while he was in grad school; any complaints about his new job likely hadn't garnered sympathy. He'd have expected his kid to adore him by default. He had a serious nature—doofy, yes. Goofy? Not very. Not like Mer was with Zola—and his frustration could be overblown. She'd laughed at it in childhood, with Mom there to say, "Oh calm, down, Thatch."

Callie and Robbins got out, and Cristina climbed into the passenger seat. "Threepio, happy belated."

"Oh. Thanks."

She nodded, and looked like she had a follow-up, but the driver's side door opened. Meredith let Derek boost her in. Her eyes met Cristina's. Lexie wanted to see how long the staring contest would last, but she didn't communicate that to Stan in time.

"Dr. Yang, I assume?"

"Bah!"

Wow, that was satisfying. Cristina clutched her chest, and Lexie caught Meredith's lips pressing together, hiding a smile. "Hi, Stan."

"Dr. Grey, a pleasure as always."

"Meredith, Stan, you know that. How was show and tell, Lex?"

Lexie scrunched her face up at her. She'd already totally failed at being adult and professional. "Steffi thought it was cool, but mostly she was trying to get information about the sale out of me."

"You? Why?"

"Oh, I dunno, maybe because I live in the Face of the Hospital's house?"

"Right, right, right. It's just so much of his face."

"So much," Cristina and Lexie both echoed. Meredith and Cristina looked at each other again.

"She was also asking about Roseridge. If they were hiring."

"Mousey and Grumpy spent half of my myocardial infarction whispering like kids in the back of the class—"

"Brooks and Edwards?" Lexie confirmed. "So Wilson's the snob."

"Wilson just spends all her time with people older than her," Meredith said. "She doesn't have to whisper in the back."

Cristina smirked. "Wow, who do we know like that?"

"I am nothing like that girl," Lexie insisted.

"Brunette Harvardian—"

"Follows Alex around—"

"Always sucking up to Mer…."

"Shouldn't you be talking to Stan?"

"Perfectly all right. Dr. Yang, what were you saying about…uh…Grumpy?"

Meredith snickered. Cristina gave her a side-eye, like she was annoyed by that.

"She's an intern. They're both interns. They said that last year we were the Match everyone wanted, but the past few weeks have been like automotive trade school."

Lexie's jaw dropped. "Oh, that's bad,"

"We've been telling you!"

"I believed you! But I was in over my head every day of my internship—"

Cristina's expression became smug. "—I did something right—"

"—I would not have been in over my head in trade school."

"Comfortable around engines, Three?"

"What'd you take apart as a kid?"

Cristina rolled her eyes. "Why is everyone obsessed with my childhood today?

When I was, like, eight I'd dissemble the phonep."

"Mine was the VCR," Meredith put in.

"Everything," Lexie said. "I'd search out the instructions and memorize the diagrams. By the time I was nine, there wasn't a clock radio, Walkman, or appliance that I couldn't disassemble and build again. At twelve, Dad said…. He said I'd have to learn to change my own oil, anyway, and handed me the manual for his Cutlass."

"Right," Cristina said. "Well, all I'm saying is, Pegasus is creating a hospital that'll be staffed by dinosaurs and cockroaches. What's the plan, Stan?"

He went through the explanation again. Lexie could've said it alongside it beat-for-beat.

"…the exact amount of each investment, estimating the number of beds—"

"Four hundred eleven," Lexie said. "But we were constantly full. If we go back to a Level One, and add a spinal recovery unit, we'd be at about five-hundred."

"Thank you, Dr. Grey. The, uh, overall operating budget, the property and business taxes, the franchise tax board payments …."

Cristina raised a questioning eyebrow at Lexie.

"Of the three of us, I'm the one who was never married to the Chief of Surgery. I've never seen those numbers."

"Okay, right, right, right. I'm asking, is it possible for us to do?"

"That's what he's saying." Mer's turn at exasperation had come. "It is possible."

"It is very possible," Stan agreed.

"Okay, well, how much more money would we need?"

"That's what I was saying, I-I don't know. "Not until I see a hospital financial statement."

"How do we get that?"

"Owen can get it for us."

"I-If we have a hope of outbidding Pegasus, the element of surprise is sort of crucial here," he explained.

" Owen can't know any of this," Meredith summarized.

"We're gonna go behind Owen's back to steal the hospital?"

"He went behind your back to divorce you," Lexie pointed out. "He went behind your back when he ch—"

"Lexie," Meredith snapped. Lexie raised her chin. It was true. "Owen will still be Chief. You and Owen are both all stoic and silent, so it hasn't been a problem, but when Derek was Chief he couldn't tell me anything, remember? When Ted—"

"Yes! I remember, okay? Not everyone has to rehash—"

"Dr. Hunt," Stan said, over them. "Is legally obligated to tell them of anything that might interfere with the sale. He signed noncompetes, nondisclosures. If he breaches them, they will fire him. They will sue him. There could even be jail time."

"He can't know any of this," Meredith repeated.

"You want me to lie to him?"

"No, I want you to just not say anything for now."

"You want me to lie to him!"

"Did you miss the part about jail time?" Lexie demanded. "Think of it as bailing him out. A fifteen million dollar bond…that you don't get back. You're not married, you could be made to testify against him. Whereas, what we're doing is legal, and you don't owe him anything."

"Lex—"

"Stop that! I'm going to be equal in this, or I'll wa—I'll take my sixth out. She's a liability, because she and the guy who cheated on her for making a choice are having great sex! You hate infidelity, Mer, but you don't say anything, because of your person pact, or whatever. I wouldn't, because she was my superior, but she's not anymore.

"I get that you love him. I've loved some real losers. Dr. Hunt isn't one of those, but if hed only divorced you for the lawsuit, you'd be remarried by now. It was an excuse. You can't think of him as the future. He's for now. That's the progress you can make in a hospital that isn't being run by the modern equivalent of the Cheaper by the Dozen dad."

Frank Gilbreth. She could name him, his wife, and all twelve kids, but it would've trailed the conversation.

Cristina turned to Meredith. Her eyes were pleading, and Mer started to soften, but said, "If you told him, he'd have to lie. Think he could do that right now? With all the lies I bet he's already telling?"

"It's breaking him, and I'm the only—"

"He's made Cahill his new project. He looks at her like she's a little broken bird not a cuckoo. Hell, would he be on our side, or would he want to give her a win?"

"How can you ask that?"

"Easily! It's something I don't know. Apart from you, Derek and I have spent the most time with him, and we get crumbs. He's a military guy. He follows orders, which means, by definition, his loyalty is with the board. He brought Cahill in without talking to any of us.

"I do know he's an avoider. He's not a great liar. He lets people come to their own conclusions. So, you do the same. You take a step back for a few days, and fix the problem. You make him see you as the hero you are."

"That's the thing," Cristina said. "I'm tired of being the hero."

"So," Meredith's tone was blithe. Conversational. Asking about a boy. "You're going to let him turn you into an android after all? Lex, you dated Mark, is there another 3PO?"

Cristina looked more shocked than Lexie thought the moment deserved. Her expression reminded Lexie of the times Mom's cat scratched Molly. The thing cared so little about anyone but Mom that they'd forgotten it was capable. It might as well have been declawed. But Meredith wasn't. Had she not heard of the Panty Provocator blowup?

"There are other protocol droids. 3PO is more a personal design—"

"Great, whatever. Do what you want, Cristina. You always do. But if you ever gave a crap about me or this hospital, you won't say anything."

For the length of a flash of lightening, Cristina's face was a storm as tumultuous as the one outside, and then with a nod at Stan, she threw the passenger side door open. Derek stood up from the curb where he'd been scrolling on his phone.

Meredith let her head thunk against her seat.

"If you can believe it," Stan said. "That went well."

"Mo' money, mo' problems," Meredith intoned.

"That's why I hate finance," Lexie said. "People's minds are a lot easier to work with when they're lying on a table."

"Funny. Dr. Shepherd once told me something very similar."

Meredith and Lexie both snorted. "That," Meredith said. "And the fact that he has no head for basic math. Hasn't he told you about working the pricing gun at his dad's store? He once started discounting everything by ten cents for a ten-percent off sale. His four-year-old sister corrected him."

"It took me so long to figure that out," Lexie said. "I thought he asked me all the time, because, you know, human calculator. Then, I noticed he did it to Steve and Megan, too. We were interns. It gave us a question we could answer as a boost, and if you're too tired to calculate three digits, you've worked too long. But then he gave one to George, and…and George rolled his eyes. He was generally so respectful."

"Not of Derek. No, that's not fair. As a doctor, yes. As my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend…. Not sure he ever really got over that. He got over me, but guys and their egos, I guess."

Meredith shifted in her seat again, ending up sitting on the console. "Omph. This works. Can I be the serious big sister for a sec?"

"I don't know, can you?"

Stan giggled to himself. "Sorry. I'm…I'll just…." He climbed out and stood awkwardly in the parking lot.

"This is probably what meeting Deep Throat was really like."

"Think those guys felt as lost as we do?"

"Fate of the country on their shoulders; president facing impeachment if not indictment….? Nah. They were dudes. Meeting in a parking garage is purely exciting for them."

"Unfortunately true." Meredith glanced at Stan. "Stan's on our side, and he's decent. Derek started working with him when he had the money from the New York houses, but was shacking up in my bedroom. sSometimes he didn't even have to buy groceries." She always smiled referencing Mom, even when she believed she'd kept her father from her. How much had those been Guilt Groceries, versus just what Mom did? "He's worked with Mo—my inheritance for years, even though it doesn't net anything close to his usual accounts.

"We're privileged here. I know that. Callie is a fourth year orthopedic surgeon. Sure, she grew up with a black Amex, but her salary is just good. It'll get better. Arizona is worth more than she's paid. It's...that's not my point." She slipped a finger under the cuff of her jacket, and Lexie could just see the crown of her watch.

"A few months ago you mentioned that I was forced to become a home-owner, early. That same year, I had to take over Mom's estate. All her legal, financial, and medical decisions became mine. I was twenty-eight."

"Mer—"

"Listen. I sat at a table at Roseridge signing those papers, and I was terrified. I couldn't be in charge of anything—I wasn't in charge of me. Mom had still been making the decisions. I did follow-through. I could handle that. Believe it or not, I could be a low-key mom-friend."

"Strongly believe."

"And I organized a lot of parties. There were no two a.m. booze runs at a Death party. But the big things? The real ones? You've been more independent than I was for a long time."

"Uh, no. You were, like, a grown-up when I got here—"

"I was a mess. When I started letting you hang out, I was still piecing myself together. I wasn't grown up. I just faked it, and I had an old man boyfriend."

"It helps."

"It does. He could've taken advantage of that, but he's Derek. He's a natural teacher, whatever he thinks. He'll be a great resource when it comes to policies. He owned a practice…but that's nothing compared to this. We're all gonna be lost, and Stan is a convincing guy. You understand more of the money stuff than me. That'll be good. But...I don't want to use you, Lexie."

"You…." Lexie's chest was as heavy as it'd been six months ago. "You don't want me to be part of this?"

"No! Yes! I'm worried…. You said Derek used you as a human calculator, and we joke about using the Lexipedia. With what Dani did…. Whatever anyone's motive, your abilities and your story have been used. I don't want to do that. I won't lie, having you with us will be good optics.

"Ugh. Saying that makes me want to gargle antiseptic. It's not why we need you. Neither is the money. We need you because you have good ideas, because you speak Stan, Because you're determined, and…resilient."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously."

"I don't feel like it."

"Your life is very different, and it's not where you want it to be, yet. You'll see it, eventually."

"I have a good role model."

Meredith snorted.

"I'm not just going along with this. It's important. I'm in," Lexie insisted. "Mer…. I know you're seeing Dr. Wyatt again." Her sister's eyes widened, and her lips thinned. "I'm guessing your life isn't where you want it to be either. It's better than you imagined, but that's part of the problem.

"One thing that's helping me with Dad…being Dad is something Faye says: what's happening now doesn't change what happened then." She started to say that she'd listen, if Meredith wanted someone to talk to, but why would she turn to Lexie over Derek or Alex.

"I want to do this," she said, instead. "I'd prefer if decisions aren't made based on seniority."

"Believe me, me too."

"I should've done a better job of standing up for myself, but Robbins was already a second away from taking her and leaving."

"Her problem. You're one of the six. There's no hierarchy here. You can absolutely tell them that. Derek and I have your back. And Cristina."

"You think?"

"I know." Meredith sighed. "It wouldn't have been like that. If…Mark wouldn't have stood for it."

"I didn't think so. He wanted me…whomever…to be involved with Sofia. Even if I didn't want the stepmother title." The hypothetical made the emptiness where her emotional heart should've been obvious. When Derek came toward them, and the image of standing in Callie's living room discussing whether Sofi was ready to potty train faded, she felt a second of relief. Her hypothetical self would've been happy just to be with Mark.

"Did you catch a fish?" Meredith asked him, through the open window.

Sometimes, Lexie wondered if her whole life would consist of sitting in the back of a van, smiling bemusedly at other people's inside jokes.

We did this. We did this, We did this. Not a question, this time. Meredith knew exactly what they'd done, and the words had synced up with the beat of her heart as they'd walked out of that boardroom, through a hospital that, for the first time in her life, had felt totally unrecognizable. Why couldn't it have been Derek telling her that he loved her being nefarious that settled in her head?

(He doesn't always like it.)

No.

It's true now, even if it wasn't then. It'd been in his eyes. (His eyes had been everywhere then. Derek, but not Derek Like when he'd chosen Addison, and then been around every corner).

"Hey, Grey! What was the thing you told me your mom said?"

Meredith blinked and rubbed her eyes, dried by her staring at the fire. "Gonna need context, Callie. Ellis Grey was a loquacious woman."

"About MGH."

"Oh. Sometimes she'd hear someone praise it, or they'd get an award, or some prestigious grant, and she'd say, 'It's a very nice hospital, but it's no Seattle Grace.'" Usually she was a couple of glasses in at that point.

"There's an ad campaign there. We can film at Portland Gen, and then have Shepherd say—"

"Uh-uh," he interrupted. "I'm not doing PR. That's going in my contract."

"He wants to have sex again one day," she added, helpfully.

"You'd need a permit to film at another hospital. And a waiver."

"I'm assuming that's a no."

"Very likely, no."

Meredith's phone dinged. As she picked it up from the coffee table, she noticed Cristina turning off the screen on hers. She'd hardly eaten when they stopped for pizza on this side of the sound. Since they got here, she'd been sitting there while Stan made notes, and Zola and Sofia were put down. She looked shell-shocked, and that was coming from someone who'd seen her with PTSD and literal psychosis. Even if Cristina would've let her, there wouldn't be much Meredith could've done.

Was she just telling herself that? No, she'd have been telling herself she could do all kinds of things.

Cristina had been on the inside of her relationship with Derek, almost since the beginning. Last night, secretly texting PAUSE whenever he wasn't watching, she'd wondered if every sorry didn't see this, or phone was silenced/dead she'd gotten in the past had been true. The ones she'd sent had been.

("Oh G-d bless you, Mer.")

Her phone. Right.

LEXIE GREY: can you come help me w/my hair?

Meredith levered herself off the sofa before she'd finished reading. She'd spent ten minutes staring at the nursery monitors hoping Zola would save her—she'd been big mad about Sofia sleeping in the crib in the nursery, instead of with her, and Meredith was with her. Sofia could handle a bed for a few hours, but Arizona had needed control over something.

Apparently so did Lexie.

"You're seriously going out?" Meredith asked, taking the brush and comb off of Lexie's dresser. "What am I doing?"

What did we do?

"Braids. We're just hanging out at Hank's. It's too cold and wet for anything else."

"Good, because it would be really inconvenient for you to break a bone."

Between this and Zola's hair growing out, she'd gotten better at braiding. Doing them on herself still felt awkward.

"I'll be here all weekend. No offense, but I don't think you're getting anywhere namestorming tonight. Death Spiral should've totally been the name of a riot band you fronted, though."

"I was happier behind a kit."

"See, you have a backup. I get it. You all quit your jobs today. If this doesn't work, that could be a real issue. I didn't quit my fake job. I got canned. God, I was so scared of that last, during the layoffs. I'd never failed at anything real."

"You still haven't. You've been failed."

We're gonna fail her. This wasn't a Hail Mary for her, it was a potential revival. She'd been more engaged going over that financial statement with Stan than she'd been about anything that wasn't related to clubbing or learning wheelchair tricks. Although, for all Meredith knew, "debt-to-capitalization ratio" and "annual debt service coverage" were WHMX moves, or fancy downtown cocktails. The video she'd shown them didn't make that seem less like a Die endeavor.

"Last year was a fail, Mer. Not at work, but otherwise? I basically OD'd on Reese's for my birthday…. Okay, Zo's first peanut butter cup was a win."

"Takes after her aunt." Meredith wrapped an elastic around one braid.

"Oh, man. I can't wait to tell the Thorns about that!"

"About her pretending?"

This morning, Zola had tossed a teddy out of her toy stroller, and then sat in it, declaring, "I Ecks friend," and propelling it with her feet the way Damian did to cover short distances.

"Yeah, and the whole conversation you had about wheelchairs—She understands more than she did when we were at Roseridge."

"She understands more than she did yesterday." For a second, Meredith's heart stopped producing terror. "She basically told Arizona that Sofia should practice being a big girl with her, so she wouldn't be scared when she's by herself."

"That's precious. But, uh, you realize they'd never have gone to sleep, right?"

"Eh. They shared a crib all right. If it's really a problem, we'll designate a guest room for her. Not like this will happen again." She put a hand on her belly. The fetus had been moving earlier, so it wasn't dead. Probably hated her for stressing out again. ("Maybe you shouldn't be…")

"She made me read them Mama Zooms. She calls the mom Lexie, and the kid is your baby."

"That's pretend."

"Lex—"

"Don't."

She'd been seeing a lot of Sofia this week. Seeing her while Zola was gone had made Meredith jealous of Callie all over again.

("Did you hurt yourself then?")

We did this.

"Mer?"

"Huh? Yeah, sorry."

"I'm sure you're exhausted. During her second trimester Molls fell asleep on the phone with me."

"Maybe you were that boring."

"Shut up! I was doing my E.R. rotation at MGH. Treating undergrads with alcohol poisoning made for good stories, if nothing else."

"It's no Seattle Grace." She secured the second braid. Looking at them, no one would know she'd done them with fingers that trembled if she didn't focus on holding them steady. Lexie turned around, and she crossed her arms, tucking her hands firmly into the bends of her elbows.

"I'm sorry," her sister said.

"What? For what?"

"If not for me, you'd be at the Brigham."

"Not necessarily." She got a doubtful look. "I didn't want to leave. Everyone made me feel like I should. It would've been great for Derek.

"I never thought of Boston as where I was from, or where I grew up. When I Matched here, I felt like… good, I get to go home. I wasn't unhappy as a kid. I got in trouble, but I knew the rules. Even understood them—I'm probably wrong, but I don't remember Mom saying because I said so back then. She'd give me a reason, because I was more likely to listen. The hospital was my favorite playground. I was safe and looked out for—that wasn't how it was at MGH."

"We're going to get it back."

"If we don't…."

The sale would fall through. Hundreds of people would lose their jobs. Seattle would be down its second hospital in three years. We did this, we did this, we did this.

"We will."

"Now who's optimistic?"

"Remember how I didn't fail once through twenty years of schooling? I'm great at cramming, presenting dull information to people who don't care, and group projects." Her phone buzzed. "That's JP. Gotta go."

Meredith put the brush and comb down, and lingered, listening to Lexie tell the others she was going. Derek's raised voice reached her, but not all of his words.

"…your future!"

"It's everyone's future! It's not my whole life. Not anymore."

She was right. The hospital wasn't everything. Meredith knew that. But her legs had dragged carrying a box of her belongings out of the building. It'd felt final. They hadn't been prepared. They hadn't prepared Zola. What would it be like for her, if she didn't see her daycare friends again? They were only starting to be more than parallel playmates, but it'd be a huge change in her routine.

It would make her panty-flashing less of a problem.

Staying in Lexie's room without her felt wrong, but Meredith couldn't go back into the living room. She ended up in the exercise/laundry room. Derek and Alex had hung her punching bag on Christmas, but that wasn't what she needed. She was buzzing with something that wasn't energy; she was fucking exhausted, and irritated at that—no, furious at that. What had she done to be…? The fetus. She constantly forgot how much of her energy was being funneled to keeping it alive, and the ways her body with it. Her annoyance at the exhaustion remained, but she couldn't resent it.

She'd left the butterfly knife trainer in here in case she'd needed an escape last night. She sat on the weight bench and started spinning it. Derek wanted her to put it in her purse in place of an actual blade. Not happening. It had everything to do with her anxiety, but not everything to do with this. After the time she'd spent combing through supplies while orange sunlight flooded her retinas. Anywhere she went, she'd have a sharp, a water bottle, and something edible in her bag. That it would also be there if she wanted to claw her skin off was a bonus.

(Cristina is right.)

She fumbled the trainer.

(Arizona is right.)

They didn't know anything about running a hospital, and they'd all start jonesing for the O.R. within a day or two of being out of it. The way Callie and Arizona were looking at each other made her worry it wouldn't be the prosthetic that got stabbed next. Alex woud wake up to Cristina taking out his appendix. Derek would be handing Meredith the scalpel—but hey, Lexie wouldn't feel it!

She snickered to herself. Lexie wouldn't mind; she'd been up for being a guinea pig for interns, hadn't she?

That was terrible. She was being a terrible person, a terrible sister, a terrible wife.

Does anyone say that?

Derek had said the opposite last night.

She'd been okay last night. Sort of. Mostly.

Last night, this had been a hypothetical. A hospital in the air. It'd become too real too fast,.

What if it was real? What if they actually did it? There were six of them. It wasn't a space station; they didn't all have to know everything. That was the point. With what they did know, they could modernize. Invest in more research. They could revamp the daycare.

Way to be petty, Grey. You're going to fire a woman who tried to keep you safe at an age where even your father—

A woman who'd set her daughter up to be humiliated.

A woman whom she'd threatened with this sale.

"Your mother is doing her job. You want to be like her? If you don't learn to mind your place and stay put, you never will."

But her mother didn't mind her place. She didn't stay. Meredith had stayed. Past the point where she was required to, she'd stayed. She hadn't run. The hospital was a workplace. It wasn't a home. She and Derek and Zola and Lexie and—

Her anatomy scan was scheduled for the next week. She'd have to sneak in, or get it done somewhere else, which meant finding a new OB. If they got the hospital shut down, she'd have to do it anyway. She'd made her first appointment with Connie without much thought. She'd have known she was good just from the hospital grapevine, but she'd also done shifts with her last year. She promised continuity of care. She got Meredith's sense of humor, and she didn't flinch at her paranoia. How did you find an OB who could deal with—They've all worked with women who've had it harder than me. I had one miscarriage, nine months of infertility, and dry eyes. A stork basically dropped Zola in my lap—and what else? Wyatt would ask. She'd—Wyatt. Shit, Wyatt. She'd seen her yesterday, and tried to prepare for dinner with Thatcher—There'd been no preparing for that.

"Not letting him dodge responsibility….I'm proud of you."

What was she going to do about Wyatt? What could she tell her, after ordering Cristina not to tell her…. Her what? Her sex-friend? Her ex-husband. Maybe she'd had a point; the man could keep a secret.

Aren't you the one who's always touting second chances?

Second, third, fourth, fifth…. Wyatt said she gave grace to everyone else, and made herself pay for it.

She took her phone out of her back pocket and opened a text thread full of messages saying: surgery running late/finished early/was pushed, can I come at…?

More civilized than she'd been four years ago, barging in on, she could only assume, Hahn's big gay revelation. (Because only your problems matter?)

No. If that was true….

She'd still be doing this. She wanted it for herself, as much as for everyone. (We did this.) She wanted to save Seattle Grace—The Grace Savers! Ha, they'd kill her—and finish the year, have a baby, and from there…let Derek teach her again.

She could barely think about that—not because she didn't want it. She wanted it so much.

If it interfered with their family in any way, she'd give it up. But maybe….

"We're gonna find you the coolest butterfly glioma."

She wanted to believe that. She wanted to be upstairs, shut away from the world with him; not alone hiding from the four other people in their living room.

She couldn't go back. She'd been gone too long. Callie and Cristina knew. There'd be looks, and Stan would ask questions, and this would all fall apart because she couldn't just move on.

She couldn't go back. Might as well text her shrink.

I'm sure there are a lot of rumors going around, and I figure this still falls under Dr./Pt. confidentiality.

Everyone involved in the suit quit to put a block on the sale to Pegasus. It won't make things better than they were before.

Thought exercise: what would your ideal psych department look like?

If they screwed up, Wyatt would have a list of things to prioritize in her next workplace.

Was she close to retirement? Meredith really hoped not.

The ellipses signaling that Wyatt was typing appeared. A drop of blood fell onto her phone screen. For a confused second, Meredith wondered if she'd scratched her face without noticing. No, that was idiotic. Her nose was bleeding. Great. A second drop rolled down her lip. Both sides. Fantastic. One of the weird things that happened to pregnant people for horomones-are-fun reasons. She grabbed a washcloth off the folding table, and swiped it across her phone before holding it under her nose to absorb the blood.

She was passing the base of the stairs when she stopped to wonder why she hadn't taken it as an excuse to stay hidden. (Maybe I do just want att—)

"Meredith?"

"I didn't—! Oh, Arizona." Great, one of two people in this house who wouldn't know why she'd almost said I didn't do it. She was staring, not like she knew, but like Meredith was a ghost. Kind of a weird way to realize she felt fully settled in her body. "Sofi okay?"

Arizona blinked. "Yeah. To be honest, I needed a break. Sorry. Just…Lexie brought up Nicolas Jacobson earlier, and…." She gestured to Meredith's nose.

It took only a moment for her to place the name. Nicolas was the little boy with the AVM. The one they'd have to have instruments designed for. The time Derek, Mark, and Arizona had given their own money to save a patient. One patient.

Meredith loosened the pressure she was holding on both nostrils just enough to not sound like a cartoon character. "Don't think I'm a sign. Just in the twenty percent. Or it's a pyogenic granuloma."

"Which she also said when her gums were sore," Derek said, meeting them as they passed the dining table.

"Also a symptom of pregnancy tumors."

"Which are benign. Between everyone here, we could have it out in ten minutes. If you did have one. Which you don't."

"Give it a few days, we'll be hoping for it," Arizona said.

"I was just thinking—" Blood flowed onto her upper-lip before she could put pressure on again. She caught it on the cloth and tipped her head back, coughing from the taste of the blood that coarse down her throat.

"Posterior epistaxis is infinitely more likely. C'mere." Derek put an arm around her and guided her to the kitchen. He opened the freezer and held up one of the butterfly gel-packs. She shook her head. He hesitated. Did he not believe her? Or... No. It wasn't about her current state. He had to tell her something she wasn't going to like.

"There's no evidence that ice on the tip of your nose works," she said, which she knew would've been his cover.

"Okay." He closed the freezer and went into the fridge. As he turned back to her, he cracked the can of ginger ale he'd retrieved and handed it to her. "Prophylactic."

She took it. If she threw up blood, she'd know it was because she'd swallowed it, and the acidity hadn't agreed with her. She'd know. That might not be enough.

"I don't remember my last nosebleed."

"Did you get them as a kid?"

He put his hands on her waist, worming them under her sweater. She shivered, and he grinned, mouthing, you like it. She couldn't deny that. If they didn't have company, he might've gotten somewhere.

"I gave better than I got," she said, fairly. It was true, and she didn't want to go into the night she'd dared to wake her mother, or the nights after when she hadn't.

She recognized the way his grip shifted and got an arm around him before he boosted her onto the counter. He spread his hands out on either side of the counter, crouching slightly to put his eyes below her sightline. "There, keep your head tilted down."

"Once, I thought this meant my brain was bleeding. Mom said it wasn't, but it could. By the time my questions about excerebration were answered, it'd stopped."

There. That was a much better memory.

"Hm, I like the way you say 'excerebration.'"He kissed her cheek. "So, Callie and crew are going to head out in an hour or so to catch the last ferry. That's Stan's plan, too."

Behind them the conversation was about nurses—someone had a source, and their contracts hadn't been changed much since the capitulations in the '07 strike. Getting back staff let go in the E.R. shuffle, plus the number they'd need to regain Level-1 certification might not be that difficult—Especially not if they let me at the daycare.

"Leaving…." She lowered her voice as much as she could. Whispering was apparently not a thing with your nose pinched closed. (She'd thought she understood most things about the human body. The past twenty-one weeks had disabused her of that notion. There was so much that just saying "relaxin" didn't explain.)

"Karev called. Hunt spent ten minutes on their porch yelling for her, and sat at the curb in his truck for another half hour. He's pretty sure he drove by while we were on the phone."

"Sheesh…. Derek, he's…. You don't think he'd…?"

"You don't have to use force to be forceful. Karev said be'd wait up and try to play bouncer—"

"She shouldn't have to be accosted by him in the rain, even if she's not alone."

"There's also Mark's apartment. Might even be the better option."

Meaning, Hunt might not think to look for her there, and if he did…. Callie had been there that night. But she'd be across the hall. Meredith didn't like that her second reason for being concerned about that was that that'd make it too easy for Cristina to leave without anyone knowing, but she was the wildcard. Even telling Owen why she couldn't tell him would be a danger.

He'd come here. He was technically living in the trailer.

Let him.

"It's her room," she determined.

His voice said, "All right." His eyes said, are you sure?

"I…had a moment. Nothing…well, this happened, so maybe it would've."

"It didn't." He shifted his weight, putting one hand on her thigh. "We're all having a moment tonight, sweetheart. That's what the good Scotch was for. You don't have that option."

"It doesn't mean…. I know. I, um, texted Wyatt." She took her phone out to show him. On her Lock Screen there was a text from Alex.

Dude. Hunt thinks he's Marlon Brando.

CRIIIIIIIISTINAAAAAAAA

She tilted her phone toward Derek. "I can't believe he knows that reference."

"That actress's name is Kim Hunter. That's weird."

"You're so old sometimes."

"Hey! My mom loves Brando."

It turned out Wyatt had responded, too.

Aside from a fish line item? I'll send you an email tomorrow.

We'll say you're approved for telemedicine for the next month and go from there. Take care of yourself, and then save the world, Dr. Grey.

"She gets you."

"Disturbing isn't it?"

"Building on what she said—"

Meredith pressed her hand against the smooth fabric of the shirt that brought out his eyes—which she was glad she wouldn't have to share with the whole hospital anymore. "I'm okay tonight. Maybe Cristina will figure out I'm not a different person. What she does with that is up to her."

"What were you feeling?"

"Derek…."

"As close to the event as possible."

"There wasn't an event."

"Even though you were…?"

She sighed. "Terrified. For us. For everyone. Pissed. Envious of you and your booze." He gave her a sheepish look. "Don't. Making you suffer too would be stupid, I still think that. Uh. Like I'm leading Lexie into something crazy, so…protective. But then…hopeful. I think we can make something good out of something awful. And if it doesn't work, we find another way."

"I guarantee you, everyone else feels a mix of those things. Stan maybe not as strongly, but it'd be a win for him, too. We do have a track record for making good things." He put his hand on her belly.

She took the pressure off her nose and waited a second. When no blood oozed out of her nostrils, she kissed him. He tasted like he had that first night, without the sharpness of tequila underneath it. Against her palm, his heart beat a tattoo: we're doing this. We're doing this. We're doing this.