A/N: Hi. Hello. So about this very long chapter...I like to get to the point in my fics. A lot is happening in this chapter and it moves quickly because the next act has to start. It just does. I hope you enjoy it. I own nothing. I'll see you down at the second set of author's notes. Happy reading!
There's things that people don't tell you about divorce. It's complicated. It's difficult. It's painful. It's horrible. And if there's kids involved, it's messy. It's if she were to describe her divorce from Derek Shepherd, she'd say it was that and more.
When Meredith Grey signed the blue post-it with promises, she never expected to be divorced with three children. She imagined forever because he said he wanted forever and she somehow believed they would be extraordinary forever even when every life experience had told her otherwise.
Oh well. She wasn't much of a believer anyways. But he was. He was the believer and she had foolishly believed him.
Still, she put on a strong face too. In fact, that's what she had most of the time. A strong face. Because that's what you do when things get bad. You put on your game face and move forward.
And it let anyone and everyone know that she was fine. She was divorcing the man she swore was the love of her life, breaking apart her family, and she was fine.
She was always fine.
And she would move forward. She always moved forward.
He's left before. He's picked up his thing and left. He's met someone and ran away from hard things. It's a common thread with him. He's a runner and it was only a matter of time that he'd run.
Good, go, she gritted through her teeth.
He smirked, "Oh I'm going."
"No, I mean it. Go. Now."
He doesn't respond. He simply stares, calling her bluff.
She dares him, "Go!"
She was fine then. And she'll be fine now. Even if the circumstances were different. Drastically different.
Derek was leaving for New York. At least for some time. There are things in New York that he needs to solve. Things that he needs to solve because the three sisters that are on the East Coast can't seem to grow up and be the adults who respect their mother's wishes.
Instead, they're bickering and arguing and forcing Derek to return to his roots and talk some sense into her. At least it's the excuse Derek has told her.
It's not an excuse, Meredith knows that. But it's easier to call it one because she can't believe that just when things seem to turn a page, he needs to leave.
But she likes Carolyn and miraculously Carolyn had always seemed to like her. Derek once claimed she did. She was a good grandmother to her children. She called on birthdays, regardless of where the children were. She visited sporadically on holidays and always sent gifts. And for some reason, the traditional yearly Christmas card always arrived at Meredith's house addressed to her and the kids. There was always a kind message. Something about the season's greetings and wishing her the best. "Hope you are well" and whatnot. She seemed to still care.
And when Meredith had tried to return the engagement ring that Derek had offer her- and hit into the woods- she'd politely wrapped her hand closed and declined.
"Just because you two are divorced, it doesn't mean you are any less worthy of it."
"Carolyn-"
"You see those three over there?" she nodded to the children playing in the yard, "Those three are proof that you once loved each other. And you still do-"
Meredith blinked, "We divorced over two years-"
"But you still," Carolyn closed her lips into a tight line, "Give it to Bailey when the time is right and if he ever chooses to present someone with it. Whoever it might be. You;ll understand then."
Meredith cares for Carolyn. So she indeed understands why Derek needs to go. She understands his need to be a hero and go save his mother from his snarky sisters. And she understands needing to drop everything to care for your mother.
She understands that deeply.
Carolyn Shepherd was a strong woman. She wasn't one for nonsense and she can read through someone in the blink of an eye. She's complicated. Hard headed. Stubborn. Kind. Wise.
She's carried grief and raised five children who have grown up to be doctors. All excellent in their respective fields.
And she did it all with a smile.
Carolyn Shepherd is dying.
The news had come as a shock, Derek explained. Though perhaps it shouldn't have. Despite everything, Carolyn had always seemed invincible - the steady rock at the center of the Shepherd family storm. Now that rock was crumbling, and the aftershocks were rippling through the entire family.
Derek's sisters were in disarray. Nancy, ever the pragmatist, wanted to move their mother into a nursing home immediately. Kathleen, the psychiatrist, insisted they needed family therapy to process their grief. Lizzie, stuck between denial and despair, insisted on clinical trials and medical support. And Amelia wasn't ready to say goodbye. She hid in her work, her child, and in denial.
Perhaps it's why she had refused to tell anything to her former sister-in-law.
They bickered and argued, each Shepherd sister convinced their approach was best. So he was on his way to the rescue.
And now here he was, sitting across from his children, breaking their hearts into pieces. Hitting them with the reality that is the circle of life.
Meredith leans against the door frame and watches as her three children sit on their couch. Zola and Bailey on each side and Ellis in the middle. Derek sits on the coffee table in front of them and leans on his elbows settled on his knees.
Ellis's lower lip trembles. "Is Nana going to be okay?"
Derek reaches out, gently squeezing her small hand. "The doctors are doing everything they can to help her feel better. But she needs extra care right now, which is why I have to go to New York soon."
"How long?" Bailey asks, his blue eyes blink as if trying to hold back tears.
Derek shrugs,"I don't know, bud. It could be a few weeks. Maybe longer."
"You don't know?" Zola repeats, crossing her arms.
"It depends on how things go," Derek says, his voice careful. "She needs someone there and I'm… I'm the one who can do it."
"But you have sisters," Zola points out. "Can't Aunt Nancy or Aunt Kathleen take care of her? What about Aunt Lizzie?"
"They've tried," Derek admits. He glances briefly at Meredith, who watches him closely, before turning back to the kids. "But it's complicated."
Bailey tilts his head, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Complicated how?"
Derek sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Your Nana has some strong opinions about what she wants and doesn't want when it comes to her health. And my sisters… well, they don't always agree on how to handle things."
"Is Auntie Amelia going?" Ellis asks, ever inquisitive.
"No," Derek says, shaking his head. "Not yet."
"So it's just you?" Zola says, her tone teetering between disbelief and frustration.
"Yes," Derek says firmly.
Ellis's eyes welled up with tears, her lower lip quivering. "But I don't want you to go, Daddy," she whimpered, her small voice cracking.
Derek's heart clenched at the sight of his youngest daughter's distress. He leaned forward, gently cupping her face in his hands. "Oh, Ellie," he murmurs softly, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. "I know, sweetheart. I don't want to go either."
He pulls her into his arms as she buries her face in his chest, her little shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Derek holds her close, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Shh, it's okay," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I love you so much, Ellie. So, so much."
Bailey can't help himself and lunges towards his father, his fingers clutching at his shirt.
"Your momma says the house should be ready for you to move back in soon," their dad whispers, "You're gonna be home with her and you're going to call me everyday. It'll be like-"
"No it won't."
Derek sighs deeply as the kids gently pull away, "Zola-"
"It's not gonna be like you're here. It's not gonna be like you're not gone-"
Meredith pushes herself off the frame, "Zola-"
Zola stands from her place and glares at her mother, "You wanted him to go! You didn't leave with Nick so you're just letting Dad leave!"
Derek's expression was a mix of confusion and frustration, "Zola! You do not yell at your mother!"
Zola's words hang in the air, sharp and accusatory. The room falls silent, save for Ellis's quiet sniffles. Meredith feels her chest tighten, a familiar ache settling in her heart. She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm.
"Zola," Meredith says softly, taking a step towards her daughter. "Your dad needs to go help Nana, and we need to support him."
Zola's eyes flashed with anger and hurt. "Now you support him? When he's leaving-!"
"Zo, that's enough," Derek stands up, "This isn't your mom's fault. It's a difficult situation for all of us."
Zola bolts out of the room and down the hallway, her footsteps echoing throughout the apartment.
Derek glances towards Meredith. She clenches her eyes shut and lets out a long, burdened sigh.
This… was too much. Her daughter's anger and resentment was too much and yet she knew those newly found feelings were something she just couldn't control. But she's tired of it. She's tired of being blamed. She's exhausted at seeing her daughter in pain she can't just wish away. She's tired of explaining. She's just tired.
Meredith opens her eyes and watches with bated breath as Derek storms down the hallway, trailing the same path with determined strides, "Derek? Derek! Derek, she's upset, it's fine-"
"No. It's not fine," he snapped, striding with fierce determination towards her room.
This will just make things worse, she thinks.
"Is Zola gonna be okay?" Bailey's voice cuts through her thoughts. Meredith turns to her two youngest who sit confused and hurt.
She presses her lips in a tight smile, "Zozo is just feeling really upset and she doesn't know where to direct her anger. She just needs a minute."
At least she hopes so.
Derek storms into Zola's bedroom where she lays on her bed, face planted on her violet pillow, seething with anger.
"Zola! What in the world has gotten into you? You do not scream at your mother like that! You owe her your respect!"
"You're leaving!" Zola muffled against her pillow, "You're abandoning us and it's because of her! She's letting you leave-!"
"No, no-!" Derek shook his head as he made his way around her bed to face her. "Zola, that's not-!"
"She got a boyfriend far away-"
"Zola, that's not-!"
"And you got a girlfriend but she's gone too!"
"Zola-!"
"Mom wanted to leave and she didn't and now you want to leave!"
"I told you-"
"You hate each other! You lied on the post-it! You're liars! And just when I thought things were going to get better, you ruin it!"
Derek felt the air leave his lungs as if he'd been punched. He sank onto the edge of Zola's bed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her words. For a moment, he is silent, struggling to find the right words to soothe his daughter's pain.
"Zozo," he begins softly, his voice thick with emotion. "Look at me, please."
Slowly, Zola lifts her head from the pillow, her eyes red-rimmed and defiant.
"I know this is hard," he says carefully. "And I know it feels like everything is falling apart. But I need you to understand something very important."
He pauses, making sure he had her full attention. "Your mom and I don't hate each other. We never have, and we never will."
Zola sits up as she lets the tears welled in her eyes freely flow down her cheeks, "Then why are you leaving me!"
"I'm not leaving you," he whispers, "You- you'll call me every day and I will call you every day. And I will come back as soon as I-"
"You left once a long time ago. And now you're leaving again, dad. You promised not to leave."
Derek watches as his daughter once again pulls away and slumps into the bed, her face buried in her pillow.
"I know I did, Zo," he said quietly, "I know I broke a lot of promises and I never- sweetie, that doesn't mean I don't love you. And it sure as hell doesn't mean your mom doesn't care. Because she does. She cares more than anyone I know. And she wouldn't be standing next to me while I tell you something I have been dreading to tell you for days."
"Mom knew you were leaving?" she lifts her head from her pillow in disbelief, "You told her?"
"I did," he nods, "She was the first to know."
She pushes herself onto the blue headboard and wipes her tears. Her arms wrap around her pillow tightly, holding onto threads of something she's not sure of.
"You're not being fair to her Zo," he continues.
"You stopped believing."
"Zola-"
She sniffs, her voice trembling, "She always said you were the one who believed in magic."
"What are you-"
"You stopped believing in mom," eyes bore into him with a fierce intensity. She gulps down a tight knot of emotion, struggling to maintain her composure.
She wasn't wrong. He stopped believing.
But in Meredith? Never.
He stopped believing in himself. With good reason.
"I made a lot of mistakes, Zo," he confesses, "I did things that hurt your mom. And maybe she hurt me but I'm the reason why we…If you need someone to blame, blame me."
"What do you-"
Derek sighs, his voice fills with something between guilt and frustration, "You need to apologize to your mother."
"Dad-"
"No," he says firmly, "You need to apologize to her and you need to mean it. I am not leaving because of her. I am leaving because I need to be in New York to help Nana and I cannot leave if you are going to continue blaming her for everything when you don't understand-"
"I do-!"
"You don't, Zola," Derek raises his voice slightly, "It was complicated. And it was my fault. So stop blaming her."
Derek stands up from Zola's bed, his heart heavy still he pauses at the doorway, turning back to look at his daughter. Her small form sitting angrily with her legs tucked under her.
"I love you, Zo," he says softly. "And so does your mom. More than you could ever know."
Zola looks up with tears streaming down her face.
"Think about what I said," he says softly. "Your mom... she's stronger than you know. She'd give everything for you."
With that, he steps out of the room, closing the door behind him with a gentle click. The sound seemed to echo in the sudden silence.
For a minute she wonders who the two people who had signed this paper were. Who were the hopeful people who once promised that they were forever? Who were the people who made promises they would never keep?
And how did they end up here?
Maybe she didn't know her parents. The two gods she held up on pedestals were suddenly mere mortals.
Zola rises swiftly from her bed, her feet barely touching the floor as she darts to her desk. She opens a drawer and rummages through it until she finds the brown shadow box that she'd stolen back from her father's room again. She stares at the shattered glass no longer protecting the blue post-it with her father's writing on it. She hurls the box into the trash bin, the sound of glass breaking echoing sharply through the air as shards scatter within the confines of the container.
Whoever those people once were, were no longer the same people now.
So maybe she truly was her father's daughter. Because Zola Grey-Shepherd had stopped believing.
As Derek closes Zola's door behind him, the apartment seems to exhale, the tension slowly seeping out of the walls. He made his way down the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet.
Meredith stands in the kitchen, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. Her fingers dug into the cool, hard surface of the granite countertop, turning her knuckles a ghostly white "How is she?"
"She's angry," he sighs, "She'll uh, she'll-"
"She's been angry," Meredith rolls her eyes, "I think she needs to start therapy again."
"Yeah," he nods, "I think so, too."
He can see the exhaustion in her face. Motherhood has changed her. It's softened her and hardened her in ways he never expected. He thinks of the crossroad they stand on. He will have to jet off soon and she'll be left with the fractured pieces. He resents the women in New York who don't make his life any easier. They never had. Not after their father's death.
Derek makes his way to stand in front of her with his arms crossed as he leaned against the counter, "I wouldn't-"
"I know," she says, "You wouldn't leave if you didn't have to."
He takes a step closer, his hand hovering near her arm before dropping back to his side. "I know this isn't fair to you. Or the kids."
She turns to face him, her eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and resignation. "Life isn't fair, Derek. We learned that lesson a long time ago."
The silence stretches between them, heavy with unspoken words and lingering
Derek sighs as he watches how she pulls away from the counter. Months ago, this wouldn't be happening. The world wouldn't be upside down and the world would be spinning like normal. She'd be happily waltzing around the hospital with Marsh and he'd be blissfully avoiding her with Cabrera. The kids would be happy with both their parents and Zola wouldn't be resenting them.
But Meredith was right. Life wasn't fair. And the fire had clearly more than burned down a house. It's torched their lives into flames and left nothing but ashes. Nothing left to reconstruct.
"You know," he begins quietly,"Zola's anger... it's not just about me leaving. It's everything. The divorce, the fire, us not being able to give her answers she wants—she's holding onto all of it."
Meredith finally lifts her gaze to him, her green eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and frustration.
"I know that," she says softly but firmly. "Don't you think I know that? I see it every day when she looks at me like I broke the world."
"I didn't mean to-"
"She's my daughter, Derek," Meredith says through her teeth, "Just because she's been staying here longer it doesn't mean I don't know her."
She hates him. Hates him. She hates that suddenly she's back to square one and in the same skin of the person she had turned in to when they had separated. She hates that she can't hold a simple conversation with him. But most of all, she hates that he's the innocent one in her daughter's narrative.
It's no one's fault really. They both agreed to keep their secrets hidden. Their children shouldn't be forced to choose a side no matter how complicated their reality is. She just wasn't expecting for Zola to write her own narrative.
Derek exhales deeply, pushing himself off the counter, "Maybe the space will help. Maybe she'll-"
Meredith scoffs bitterly.
"What?"
"That's always your solution," she rolls her eyes as she makes her way to the living room, "To run."
Derek's jaw tightened as he followed Meredith into the living room. "That's not fair," he said, his voice low and controlled. "You know that's not what this is about."
Meredith whirls around to face him, her eyes flashing. "Isn't it? You're leaving, Derek. Again. And I'm left here to pick up the pieces. Again."
"My mother is dying, Meredith," Derek retorts, his voice rising with frustration and urgency. "What would you have me do?"
She deflates slightly, running a hand through her hair. "I know. I know that. It's just..." She trails off, sinking onto the couch.
Derek sits down beside her, careful to maintain a respectful distance. "Just what?"
"It's hard. And I-" Meredith admitted quietly as she stands once more, "And I have to go. It's late. I'll pick up the kids for school tomorrow so you can pack."
"Meredith-"
She reaches for her coat, "Just leave it alone, Derek."
Anger boils through him and he can't help himself when he mutters-
"That's always your solution."
"Excuse me?"
Derek meets her gaze, his blue eyes intense. "I said, that's always your solution. To shut down. To push people away."
Suddenly, it's like the time has gone back and they're the same people they once were. The same people calling each other's bluff to let their ego, their pride, and their stubbornness get in the way.
Suddenly, they're the same people they were when it all began to fall apart.
Meredith's eyes flash with anger, "It's a good thing we're divorced, right?"
"Right," he mutters back as she slams the door behind her.
He sighs and rubs a hand down his face before standing and making his way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water he didn't really want. He stares at it for a long moment before setting it back down untouched. His throat was tight, like the emotions he hadn't quite processed were stuck there, refusing to loosen their grip.
And the bottle of scotch he was sure was hidden somewhere in the apartment beckoned him with a promise of release he wasn't sure he should take.
Meredith pushes open the door to the apartment, the soft click of the lock barely registering over the dull throb in her temples. The apartment is dimly lit, the warm glow of the floor lamp casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. Amelia is sitting on the floor, legs crossed, her socked feet tucked beneath her as she plays with Scout. The toddler giggles, clapping his hands as she stacks blocks in front of him. She grins when she sees Meredith.
Meredith hasn't moved from the doorway. She's still standing there, coat draped over her arm, fingers clenching the fabric like it's the only thing holding her together. The weight in her posture is unmistakable.
Amelia's stomach tightens. A cold realization settles in her chest.
"It didn't go well, did it?" she asks cautiously.
"Why wouldn't you tell me?" Her voice is hoarse, edged with something Amelia can't quite place—betrayal, maybe.
Amelia stiffens. "Meredith. I told you—"
"After! After he told me he was leaving. You told me after he told me he was picking up his backs and running again," she shakes her head, "He told the children today and I had to stand there as my daughter blamed me-"
"Meredith-"
"I'm moving out-"
Amelia's eyes widen in shock. "What? Meredith, you can't just-"
"I can and I am," Meredith says firmly as she makes her way down the hallway, "The house is almost ready. The kids and I will move back there."
"Mer, come on," Amelia pleads, standing up as she leaves Scout to play with his toys,"You can't just-"
"I have to," Meredith says calmly, "I have to go back. I have to go back to the house and I have to get my kids back to normalcy and I have to- I have to-"
She has to keep moving. She has to keep pushing forward because the damn carousel does not stop moving. It keeps spinning and spinning and she can't get off. She just can't get off.
Amelia reaches for her until Meredith stops in her steps, "Stop, I-I… I get it."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Meredith turns to her, her voice softer now.
Amelia shifts her weight, her fingers fidgeting inside her pockets. "He asked me not to say anything until he spoke to you." She shrugs, but it's forced, like she's trying to make herself believe that it was that simple.
A storm brews in Amelia's chest—too many feelings colliding at once.
"I didn't want to admit it," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to admit that my mom was dying. Or that my brother was leaving. I didn't want to—"
Her voice catches.
Meredith shakes her head, "I know, I know. I'm sorry, I-"
The two have always been more alike than they have ever been willing to admit. They've been hurt so many times before that trust isn't always something they're willing to give freely.
Scout's voice beckons from the living room. Amelia turns and quickly strides over. Meredith can hear her soothing voice reassure her son and for a blissful second, her mind whirls back to when she was the one soothing her children. When things were simpler and when things weren't so…difficult.
When there wasn't a cold war between her and the father of her children. A cold war that began out of bitter feelings and ambitions. Ambitions they were both unwilling to set aside.
"I did not ask you to do this. I never wanted you to-"
"I know you didn't. I chose. I chose you…and the kids"
She stared at him. He's going to regret this. He's going to fight this. Because Derek Shepherd doesn't just fold. He doesn't just…he never has…He is going to regret this. Every inch of her body tells her.
So she does the only thing she can do, "I need a drink."
This isn't that. This new war is different and she's not even sure where it stems from. She's not even sure if it is a war or just repressed feelings.
Meredith walks towards the living room and wraps her arms around herself, "You should go."
"Go where?" Amelia looks up at her.
"Go to New York," Meredith shrugs her coat off and tosses it over the couch, "Go see your mom."
Amelia nods, "I am, I just…I need time."
"There is no time, Amelia," Meredith sighs, "And if you don't go, you will regret it."
Amelia turns to Scout and watches him play for a moment, "Are you leaving because you're angry at me?"
"No, I'm not angry at you. I get it, he's your brother," Meredith shakes her head, "I'm just moving forward."
The hospital is suffocating today. Meredith has been here for hours, moving through surgeries, consults, rounds—anything to keep her mind occupied. But nothing helps.
She's halfway through scrubbing out when her phone rings with a page.
Meredith's stomach drops. She had a bad feeling about this one. A young mother, early forties, post-op from a complicated liver resection. The surgery went fine, but there were too many variables, too many unknowns.
By the time she gets to the ICU, it's already too late. The monitors are flatlining, the team is stepping back, and for a split second, Meredith is frozen.
She's here again.
She swallows, hard, before stepping forward. The woman's husband is waiting outside. A man she had reassured just this morning, telling him she'd do everything she could.
And she had.
But it wasn't enough.
It never is.
She steps into the hallway, and as soon as he sees her face, his expression crumples.
"No," he whispers.
Meredith doesn't know what to say. She's said this speech a thousand times, but today, the words feel like sandpaper in her throat.
"I'm so sorry," she manages.
The man nods stiffly, looking through her rather than at her, and she knows he'll remember this moment forever—the moment he lost his wife.
The day goes on. The day moves forward. But she feels frozen.
She wraps up her day without bumping into him.
It's not a good day. Someone died.
But it's also a typical day.
The drive to the school is quiet, the kind of silence that sits heavy, pressing in on her. Meredith grips the steering wheel a little too tight, her knuckles aching, but she doesn't let go.
She's still thinking about the patient. About the husband left behind. About how, no matter how many times she has this conversation, it never gets easier.
She exhales sharply as she pulls into the school parking lot. The kids are already trickling out, backpacks slung over their shoulders. Then she sees Zola.
She's standing off to the side, arms crossed, her face set in a deep frown.
Meredith's stomach clenches.
She waves her over. Zola doesn't move at first, then finally pushes off the wall and heads toward her.
"Hey," Meredith greets carefully. "How was school?"
"Fine."
"Zola-"
"I got an 'A' on my bio test," Zola says, "And an 'A' on my world history report. It was a good day."
It's the most she's shared with her lately. An easy, simple report about her successes in school. Something exciting to her. Something that he was willing to share. Something Meredith didn't need to coerce out of her. She just..shared it.
Meredith clings to it like a lifeline.
"That's great, honey!" She beams, seizing the moment, desperate to hold onto the connection. "Maybe we can celebrate by—"
"I threw the post-it away."
Meredith's head snaps toward her so quickly that her foot instinctively presses on the brake. The car behind her honks loudly, the sharp noise jolting her out of the moment. Her pulse spikes.
"What?"
"You and Dad aren't gonna get back together. He told me the truth," Zola whispers as she stares out the window, "I get it. I get it now. I'm sorry I yelled at you. And that I blamed you. I know it's not the first time but I really am sorry. I won't do it anymore."
Meredith swallows hard, trying to steady her breathing as she presses the gas pedal again. The car moves forward, but everything else inside her feels like it's sinking.
"Wh-what do you mean you threw the- what do you mean you threw it away? What did your dad tell you?"
"Nothing, mom. I don't want to talk about it anymore," Zola shakes her head, "I really am sorry. I won't snap again. And I won't bring it up again either."
Meredith steals a glance at her daughter, her stomach twisting.
There's sincerity in her voice, but it's the kind that breaks Meredith's heart. The kind that sounds like acceptance. Like giving up.
Like letting go.
Meredith wants to scream that it isn't that simple. That they don't just throw things away. That Zola doesn't understand, that she can't understand. That she's tossed away the post-it note, the holy scrap of paper protected in a shadow box now thrown away. Their vows, discarded like a simple meaningless paper. And they don't do that. They simply don't do that.
But she stays silent. She doesn't say it. Instead she resigns..
"Okay," Meredith whispers, "Thank you. For apologizing."
Zola hums in response. She reaches forward and turns on the radio before slumping back into her seat.
"Your dad and I talked," Meredith says, "We think you should talk to someone, Zo. Everything after the fire…it's a lot, honey. We think it might help if you-"
"Okay," Zola says, "That sounds good."
"Okay," Meredith echoes, "Then we'll…we'll talk to someone."
And so she drives. Forward.
Meredith doesn't go straight home after dropping the kids off at Derek's for the last time—until he returns, whenever that'll be.
She should. She has work in the morning. Charts to catch up on. A routine to fall into, something productive, something that pulls her forward.
But she can't be in Amelia's place anymore. It's too much. Too complicated. Too full of the echoes of a life she's no longer sure she belongs to. And she doesn't want to sit with that—not tonight.
So instead, she drives. Aimlessly. One street turns into another, her thoughts looping like a song stuck on repeat.
The case. The patient she lost.
Zola's disappointment.
Derek leaving.
Eventually, she ends up at the scene of the crime.
The house stands before her, almost whole again. The charred beams and shattered windows are gone, replaced with fresh wood and clean panes of glass. The walls, once blackened by smoke, have been repainted—a near-perfect replica of what stood before.
Except it isn't perfect.
It never will be.
She steps out of the car, gravel crunching beneath her boots. The night air is damp, thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth and fresh paint. The acrid bite of smoke is long gone, but she swears she can still smell it—burnt wood, scorched memories.
The front door is new. Sturdier. The porch has been reinforced. The scaffolding is gone, the workers have packed up, and what's left is something that resembles home.
Almost.
Then, she looks up.
The hole in the ceiling gapes like an open wound, a raw reminder of what was lost. The repairs are nearly done, but not quite. It's the last thing left, the final piece to make it livable again.
Or maybe the final piece doesn't exist. Maybe some things can't be restored.
Meredith exhales, a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She should go back. It's late. She should get some sleep, wake up early, pretend she isn't unraveling at the seams.
Or she could have one drink.
Just one.
Just one to forget that the small step she'd taken forward to mend a broken bridge between herself and Derek had been ruptured again.
Maybe beyond repair.
She doesn't remember deciding to leave. One minute, she's staring up at the unfinished ceiling, and the next, she's gripping a half-empty glass in a bar she very well recognizes.
The tequila burns on the way down, but it doesn't do what she wants it to. It doesn't quiet her mind. It doesn't make her forget the way Zola barely looked at her when she dropped her off at Derek's. Or how Bailey and Ellis's faces had dropped when they realized it would be their final night with Derek for a while.
She swirls the liquid in her glass, watching the way it catches the dim light. It's not enough. Another drink. Then another.
The bar is loud, filled with the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. People are living, moving, feeling. She feels outside of it, like she's watching from the other side of a glass wall.
And then, a shadow falls over her.
At first, she doesn't bother looking up. Probably just some guy who thinks she wants company. She's ready to tell him off, but then—
"What are you doing?"
The voice is unmistakable. Low. Familiar. Infuriating.
Her grip tightens around the glass as she lets out a sharp breath, the haze of alcohol thick on her tongue.
"What are you doing?"
"What do you care?" she slurs, her voice thick with the haze of alcohol,"You're not my husband anymore."
Her eyes, glassy and unfocused, dart around the dimly lit bar, the remnants of laughter and clinking glasses echoing in the background.
"You called me," he raises his brows, "Said you were drunk and needed a ride. What are you doing?"
"You don't get to ask me anymore! You're not my husband! So what if I took a few shots? What if I had a little too much? I'm not the alcoholic! That would be you."
"Okay," he winces at how she stabs her long finger at his chest, not sure what hurts more, "Let's get you home-"
"Ha!' she snorts, "I don't have a home remember? It burned to the ground!"
He sighs, "Meredith, come on. Let's get you out of here. I'll take you to Amy's-"
She sways slightly on the barstool, her fingers tracing the rim of an empty glass. "Why do you care?" she mumbles, her words slurring together. "You're leaving anyway."
"Meredith," he pleads, "There's people from the hospital here. It is not going to end well-"
"Fine!" she slams her glass on the table, "But take me back to Maggie's! Amelia hates me just as much as you do!"
"Amelia does not hate you. I do not hate you-"
"But Zola hates me- and that one hurts. My own daughter hates me and it's all because-"
"Mer," he reached out to steady her, his hand gently gripping her elbow. She flinches at his touch but doesn't pull away.
"I'm just like my mother. I hated her too. Now my daughter hates me!"
Derek steps forward, his hand hovering for just a moment before landing gently on her arm, steadying her. She pulls away quickly, but he's there, and she knows she won't get anywhere without him.
"Meredith—" he starts, his voice softer than she expects. He doesn't sound angry, doesn't sound like he's ready to fight.
"Don't," she cuts him off, her voice a mix of frustration and exhaustion. She grabs her coat from the back of the chair, her movements a little jerky. "I don't need a lecture."
"I'm not lecturing you," he says, his brows furrowing. "You called me for a reason."
"I didn't call you for a reason," she mutters, grabbing her purse. "I called you because I'm drunk and I can't think straight and I can't drive. And you owe me that much!"
Without saying another word, he takes her arm again, more gently this time, guiding her out of the bar. She doesn't fight him. She's not sure she has the energy to.
"This isn't gonna be a one night stand you know that right? We're past that. We're not leaving this bar-"
"I know. Understood. C'mon."
The cold night air hits her the moment they step outside, and she shivers, rubbing her arms for warmth. Derek's hand is still on her arm as they make their way to the car. It's familiar, in a way that feels wrong, like it shouldn't be like this but is anyway.
She climbs into the passenger seat, her fingers curling into the leather seat as she slumps against the door, closing her eyes.
He drives in silence until she breaks it.
"Sorry about calling you an alcoholic," she murmurs, "That was mean."
He sighs.
"See? I'm drunk but I do know what I'm saying."
"Yeah," he said softly, his voice tinged with an exhaustion that went far deeper than the moment. "You know what you're saying, Mer. That's what worries me."
She let out a bitter laugh, though it broke halfway, quivering like she wanted to cry but was too stubborn to let herself. "Don't worry about me, Derek. I'm fine. I'm always fine, remember?"
Meredith slumps her head leaning heavily against the window. The quiet hum of the engine fills the space between them, but it's not enough to drown out the weight of the moment.
"Yeah," he says quietly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I did."
"Why?"
"Let's talk about this when your-"
"Sober?" she chuckles bitterly, "You're gonna be gone by then."
"Meredith—" Derek's voice softens, and for a moment, he looks at her, his eyes full of concern.
"She threw away the post-it, Derek" Meredith mumbles, "She's pretty pissed off. And I keep blowing it."
Derek glances at her, his expression unreadable, but there's something about the way his eyes soften that catches her off guard. "It's not just you, Meredith. Zola's not angry at you for the reasons you think."
She blinks, but doesn't ask what he means. Instead, she turns back toward the window, watching the blurred city lights pass them by.
Then, barely above a whisper, she sniffs. "Don't leave."
Derek's breath catches, his hands clenching the wheel.
He pulls the car over.
The tires crunch against the pavement as they come to a stop. He turns to her, his heart breaking at the sight of her tears.
"Everybody leaves me," she sighs, her voice cracking. "Or dies. George, Izzie, Lexie, Cristina, Alex, Jackson... you."
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut.
"Oh and Kepner! I almost forgot but she left too," she adds with a hollow laugh, like she's listing names off a casualty report.
Derek sighs. He reaches out but hesitates,"Mer, that's not true. You know I-"
"Isn't it?" She lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.
"You told me you're leaving. You're leaving. Just like everyone else. Do you know how hard I've been fighting not to fall apart?"
He closes his eyes briefly, the guilt nearly overwhelming.
"I'm not leaving because of you," Derek says again, but his voice falters this time, betraying him.
Meredith lets out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking her head again. "You can say it a hundred times, Derek, but we both know it's not true."
He stays silent, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.
"You're leaving because of me. Because of us," she continues, her voice rising, "You're leaving because it's easier than staying. Easier than facing... whatever this is."
She gestures vaguely between them, her hand shaking slightly. "And your mom getting sick? Well that's just good timing."
His head snapped towards her.
"Sorry. That was mean. Again," she sighs, "Oh, don't look at me that way, you know me and how dark and twisty I get."
He runs a hand down his face.
"I don't blame you, Derek. I get it. I would run too," she leans back against the seat, eyes closed, as if exhausted by the weight of everything she just admitted.
Derek's grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles turned white. He exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to unclench his hands before turning to face her fully.
"I hate you," she whispers, her voice breaking, though the tears streaming down her face tell a different story.
Derek's shoulders slump, the fight draining out of him. "No, you don't."
She looks away, out the rain-speckled window, as if trying to gather herself. Her fingers clench and unclench in her lap.
"You're right, I don't"
The silence stretches between them, heavy with unspoken words.
"But I do hate that I love you," she finally says, her voice so quiet it's almost swallowed by the sound of the rain.
He doesn't say anything, doesn't move, afraid that if he does, the fragile moment will shatter.
"I've loved you this whole time," she continues, her voice trembling. "Through the fights, through the divorce, through Alice, And Nick and all those idiots I was with. Through everything. And I tried to stop it. God, Derek, I tried so hard to stop. But I can't."
Her confession hangs between them, raw and unfiltered, like an open wound.
"But it doesn't matter, does it?" she adds, her tone bitter now. "Because we can't figure it out. We'll just end up right back here—hurting each other, hurting the kids, ruining everything all over again."
"Meredith—"
"No," she cuts him off, shaking her head. "Don't say anything. Just drive."
Derek hesitates, his heart aching in a way he hasn't felt in years. But he nods, gripping the steering wheel as he starts the car again.
The silence between them is deafening as they drive through the rain. Meredith stares out the window, tears streaming down her face, while Derek glances at her from time to time, his own eyes glistening.
When they finally pull up to her house, she doesn't move right away. She sits there, staring at the darkened windows.
"I don't want you to go," she whispers without looking at him.
"I don't want to go either," he admits, his voice cracking.
She finally turns to him, her expression heartbreakingly vulnerable. "Then why are you?"
He swallows hard, his knuckles white against the leather. He could tell her the truth—that staying feels impossible because he doesn't know how to stop hurting her. That every time he looks at her, he wants things he doesn't know how to ask for anymore. That leaving is easier than facing what they've become.
"My mom, Meredith," he insists, "I have to go see her."
Meredith nods to herself, as if accepting something she can't change.
"I almost had a drink-"
"What?"
"The other night? After you left," he says as he moves the steering wheel to turn, "I almost had a drink."
"And?"
"And I didn't," Derek says quietly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But I couldn't."
Meredith turns to look at him, her brow furrowed. "Why not?"
He lets out a slow, uneven breath. "Because if I started, I wouldn't stop." His voice is barely above a whisper. "And I couldn't do that to the kids. To you."
The last part slips out before he can stop it.
Meredith's throat tightens. "To me?"
Derek finally looks at her, his blue eyes tired, filled with something she doesn't know if she's ready to name.
"Yeah. To you." His jaw works, and for a second, she thinks he might say more. That he might finally give her something real.
"I still—" He cuts himself off. Shakes his head. "Never mind."
Meredith waits. She waits because she needs him to say it. To say something that makes sense of all of this.
But he doesn't.
"Derek," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the rain
He finally turns to meet her gaze when he pulls over a familiar building. He pulls his phone out and dials until someone picks up. Meredith stares at him. He tells Maggie he's bringing Meredith up. Maggie insists on meeting her downstairs. He resists but then resigns. And when he finally hangs up he turns to her, his blue eyes filled with a pain that mirrors her own.
"I'm sorry, Meredith. For everything. For leaving. I'm sorry I hurt you." he whispers, "I'm sorry I'm still hurting you."
"Me too," She nods, "Sorry about what I said about your mom"
"Yeah," he nods, "I know."
"Sorry I called you an alcoholic," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, tinged with regret, "I'm glad you didn't drink."
Derek breathes in sharply, looking away as his fingers flex against his thigh. He wants to tell her that it wasn't just about the kids, that it wasn't just about himself. That, in the moment he almost caved, the thought of disappointing her was the thing that kept him from giving in.
But he doesn't say any of that.
Instead, Meredith opens the door and steps out, the rain immediately soaking through her hair and clothes.
"Mer, wait! Maggie-!"
She licks her lips before turning back, gripping the doorframe like she's steadying herself. "Goodbye, Derek."
She waits.
And then it hits him—she's waiting for him to say it back.
He should say something else, anything else. But the words won't come.
So, finally, he nods. "Goodbye, Meredith."
Maggie runs towards them, "Hey, thanks for calling!"
Derek nods once as he watches Maggie guide Meredith up the steps, his heart breaking with every step she takes. She pauses at the door, looking back at him one last time.
Derek watches her walk up the steps, each of her steps feeling like a dagger to his heart. She pauses at the door, casting one last, lingering glance back at him, her eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and acceptance.
Derek sits there for a long time, the rain pounding against the windshield, his heart aching with the weight of everything. His mother. His children. Meredith.
It's too much. And maybe he can't save anyone this time.
Derek leans against the kitchen counter, his eyes fixed on the window as his sisters' voices echo down the hall. It's the same conversation that's been playing on a loop since he arrived weeks ago, the same arguments, the same frustrations. He doesn't need to be in the same room to know exactly what's being said. Amelia and Nancy are on opposite sides of the fence, each convinced that their approach is the right one, each unwilling to see the other's point of view.
"I don't think you're understanding how much help she needs, Amelia!" Nancy's voice is sharp, the edges of frustration cutting through her words. "We can't just let her do whatever she wants—she's not going to get better if we don't make some hard decisions."
"I'm not saying we let her do whatever she wants," Amelia fires back, her tone equally heated. "But we can't just smother her, Nancy. She's still my mom! She still deserves some autonomy."
Derek sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He's heard this too many times. The battle for control, the constant tug-of-war over what's best for their mother, and the weight of it all hangs in the air, thick and suffocating.
The familiar tension seeps into his chest, and he wonders how much longer he can stand in the middle of it all. He's been here for a month, but the more he listens, the more he realizes that the time he's spending in New York isn't just for his mom.
Truthfully, it has been a chance to get away from the mess he's left behind in Seattle—away from Meredith and the kids, away from the life that's become increasingly complicated. Because he's made it complicated. He's been the one to complicate everything and if he can't fix things in Seattle he has to fix them in New York.
"Alright shut up! The four of you," he calls out, "Shut up, she's upstairs sleeping."
His sisters stare at him, a mix of shock and indignation on their faces.
"Derek," Kathleen starts, her tone placating, "We're just trying to figure out what's best for Mom. The cancer is spreading, we can't just-!"
"No," Derek cuts her off, his voice low and intense. "You're arguing. You're fighting over her like she's not even here. Like she doesn't have a say in her own life."
He runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "Have any of you actually asked her what she wants? Have you listened to her?"
The silence that follows is heavy with guilt and realization.
"She's scared," Derek continues, his voice softening. "She's scared and she's trying to hold onto whatever control she has left. And we're taking that away from her with every-"
"You can't just come back to New York and make these decisions for her, Derek," Nancy scolds, "You're not D-"
"Then why the hell did you call him and force him to come?" Amelia scoffs, "He's her son too! And he's the only one she'll listen to!"
Amelia defending him is still new to him. It's something that he's still not used to but something he's thankful for.
"Oh great," Kathleen rolls her eyes, "You would take his side. You're always following him like-!"
"There's only one side here," Derek dumps his coffee into the sink before exhaling, "and that's mom's"
Lizzie sighs, "Derek-"
"She's upstairs. And if you want to continue arguing, do it somewhere else. Let her have some peace."
Derek watches as the two of them exchange a glance, the conflict between them still palpable but no longer spilling over.
He turns away, his mind already elsewhere, thinking of how much he wishes things could be different. Of how much he wishes he could be in two places at once, taking care of his children in Seattle while he's here, trying to patch together whatever's left of his mother's life.
But the truth is, he's not sure if he's been able to fix anything for a long time.
Derek rubs his hands over his face, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on him. His mom's health, his sisters' tension, and the miles that separate him from the kids—and Meredith. He talks to them daily. Sends text messages to the children throughout the day. Like he promised.
Still, everything feels like it's pulling him in different directions.
His thoughts are interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps behind him. He doesn't need to turn around to know who it is.
Amelia's voice is quieter now, the edge from earlier softened. "You okay?"
Derek leans against the counter, his gaze distant as he takes a breath. "No. Not really."
"I thought you were kidding when you said the sisters were making it impossible here-"
"How are my kids?" Derek presses his lips into a tight line.
Amelia smiles, "They're good. They miss you. Bailey just scored an 'A' in bio and Ellis is still quit ballet, did she tell you?"
"Yeah," he nods, "She's doing gymnastics now."
"She is hilarious, she's-"
"What about Zo? How's she doing?"
Amelia swallows a lump in her throat, "Derek-"
His heart clenched as he straightened, "What's wrong with Zola?"
"Don't get upset-"
Derek's eyes narrow, his stomach twisting with a mix of worry and frustration. "Amelia, what's wrong with Zola?"
Amelia hesitates, unsure of how to deliver the news without breaking him further. She exhales slowly, trying to steady her nerves. "She's been struggling, Derek. She had a panic attack a few days ago. It's been happening-"
Derek's face falls. "Panic attacks? Why didn't Meredith tell me?"
"Meredith's been trying to handle it," Amelia says, her voice softening. "She didn't want to add to what you're already dealing with."
"She's my daughter! She can't just-"
"Mom's upstairs," Amelia reminds him and shrugs, "'shut up' remember?"
Derek exhales as he crosses his arms, "Amelia-"
"How are you?" Amelia asks, "Are you okay? Are you-"
"I need to call-"
"Derek! Don't," she reaches for his hand, "Meredith is handling it. She has her in therapy, you know that. It's just…her dad is away nursing his sick mom. They just moved back into the house after a terrible fire. Things are…give it time."
Derek's jaw clenches as he processes Amelia's words. The thought of Zola struggling, of her having panic attacks, twists something deep inside him. He feels torn, pulled between his responsibilities here and his desperate need to be there for his daughter.
"I should be there," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should be helping her through this."
Amelia's expression softens. "You're doing what you need to do, Derek. Meredith's got this. She's a good mom."
He nods, but the tension doesn't leave his shoulders. "I know she is. It's just..."
"Hard," she finishes for him. "I get it. But you can't be in two places at once."
Derek runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "Maybe I should go back. Just for a few days-"
"Derek?"
A voice calls from upstairs forcing the siblings to sigh in disappointment.
Derek enters the room to find his mother sitting in her favorite armchair by the window, the soft light casting a gentle glow on her tired face. She looks frailer than she used to, but her eyes still hold the same sharpness, the same fire. He hesitates for a moment, then sits down across from her, knowing the conversation he's been dreading is about to happen.
"We woke you," he says knowingly, "I told them to-"
"I haven't been able to sleep all day," Carolyn chuckles.
"Are you in pain?" he asks as he sits across from her before pressing his hand against her forehead, "Do you need-?"
"I don't need anything, I just want you to sit."
He smiles with a nod, "Okay."
Carolyn studies him intently, her eyes scanning his face with a mixture of concern and tenderness, "You look tired, Derek."
He releases a gentle chuckle, attempting to brush off her concern. "I'm fine, Ma. You don't need to worry about me."
Her voice takes on a firm yet loving tone. "I'm your mother," she asserts, her words carrying the weight of a lifetime of care and responsibility. "It's my job to worry about you. Even when I'm..." Her voice trails off, leaving the unspoken truth to linger heavily in the air between them.
Derek swallows hard, feeling the constriction in his throat as he struggles to suppress the rising tide of emotion. "Ma—"
"No," she interjects gently but decisively. "We need to talk about this, Derek. About what's going to happen."
He nods slowly, the inevitability of the conversation settling over him like a heavy blanket. He realizes he can't sidestep this discussion any longer.
Carolyn inhales deeply, her hands folding with quiet resolve in her lap. "I've made my decision. I'm not going to do any more treatments."
"Ma-"
"I have made my choice!" she insists, her voice tinged with both weariness and determination. "I'm tired, son. I'm exhausted, and the five of you are downstairs bickering because you don't want to admit—"
"Ma—" he begins, his voice catching with unshed tears.
"That I am going to be gone soon. And you are going to be the one who respects it because your sisters can't," she finishes, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of her own. "It's the last thing I will ever ask of you. So please just... I want to leave this world with the small amount of dignity I have left."
He sniffs, emotions swirling within him like a storm, and manages to whisper, "You can't… Ma, I-"
"You're a lot like your father," Carolyn smiles softly, "You are so much like him."
Derek leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, "Nancy mentioned a trial-"
"He was so good. Such a good dad. A good husband," she muses, "He was always trying to help everyone. No matter what he always wanted to help and I think that was his one fault."
She's not gonna listen. He can tell she'll ignore everything he says from this point on. So Derek pushes himself off and leans back, "He was a good dad. A good man."
"So are you."
Sometimes he believes it. Others he doesn't. And though he's tried to be a good man, He's always been in a bitter battle with himself.
A battle of what he wants and the right thing.
"So are you," Carolyn hums.
Derek presses his lips into a forced line, "You say that because your my mother."
She's silent for a moment.
"I asked a lot of you, didn't I?"
Derek furrows his brow, "What?"
"With your sisters. With Amelia," Carolyn coughs, "You offered to take care of her and I let you."
"Ma, I- I-"
"You were a kid," she whispers, "You were a child. And I let you be a parent to your sister. It's why you blame yourself so much about everything. The alcohol and the drugs. You blame yourself and you think you're going to fail you kids just as well."
"I-I-"
"But you didn't. And you won't," she continues, "You hold yourself to such a high standard and don't give yourself any room to make mistakes because you see the world in black and white. And the woman you love, the woman who let you see the grey in the world…you let her go. And she let you go."
"But you need her," she coughs again, "And she needs you."
"Go home. To Seattle. To your kids. To Meredith-"
"Ma, Meredith and I have been-"
"Stupid. You and Meredith have been stupid. And stubborn."
Derek's eyes widen in surprise at his mother's blunt words. "Ma, it's not that simple-"
"But it can be," Carolyn finishes for him, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You two still love each other and you're both too stubborn to admit it."
"It's not that simple-"
"It is that simple," she says before a full fit of coughs hit her. Derek reaches for the oxygen tank and offers her the mask. She takes it gratefully before pulling it away gently.
"You need to go home, son," she presses the mask against her chest and smiles, "You need to go and fix this very broken mess you made."
Derek presses his lips together in a tight line.
"Amy is uh, downstairs," he mutters, "She's been waiting for you to wake up before coming up to see you. I'm gonna bring her in."
He stands from his chair and makes his way before Carolyn calls out for him.
Derek pauses at the doorway, his hand resting on the frame. He turns back to face his mother, her words echoing in his mind.
"Derek," Carolyn says softly, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and concern. "I know you're scared. I know you're trying to do the right thing. But sometimes, the right thing isn't the easiest thing."
He swallows hard, feeling the weight of her words. "Ma, I-"
"You've always been the one to take care of everyone else," she continues, her voice gentle but firm. "But who's taking care of you, Derek?"
Meredith stands in the living room, the soft hum of the work crew finishing up the final touches on the roof faint in the background. The house feels like it's coming back to life, and yet, it's not quite the same. The repairs are almost done, but the feeling of incompleteness still lingers in the air, just like the unsettled knot in her chest that she's been trying to ignore.
Zola has been quiet lately. Her therapy sessions seem to be going well, but Meredith can't shake the worry that still sits with her, unseen but always present. The panic attacks are new, and Zola isn't quite the same joyful girl she was before the fire. She's withdrawn, more anxious, and Meredith can see the difference. It's a process, the therapist says, and she's working through it. Still Meredith isn't sure how to help. It's something she needs to bring up to her Zola's dad but she doesn't want to worry him. Not now. Not yet.
Bailey's been a whirlwind of energy, coming home with a big grin from school or practice, his excitement infectious as he tells her about his latest achievements. His grades are good, his soccer team is doing great, and he's growing into his own, all without needing too much guidance. He doesn't ask for attention but always seems to thrive when Meredith gives it to him, something she's tried to do more of. He calls Derek regularly, talks about his day, and Meredith can hear Derek's voice on the other end of the phone sometimes—always upbeat, always encouraging. But tired. She can hear how exhausted he is.
Ellis, on the other hand, has surprised Meredith. She never expected her to quit ballet. It wasn't just a passing phase; Ellis had been passionate about it, determined to keep going even when things weren't easy. But the gymnastics class had caught her interest, and now, it's all she wants to do. Meredith watches her try out moves in the living room, laughing at herself when she stumbles. It's a small victory in the larger battle of adjusting to all the changes, but it's a victory nonetheless.
Meredith leans against the counter, her eyes flicking to the half-empty coffee mug on the table, her mind occupied with the things she hasn't said, the things she hasn't processed. Derek calls the kids daily, texts with them regularly. They talk to him with the same ease and warmth they've always had. They're handling it—she's handling it—but sometimes, when she's alone in this house, she wonders if they all are.
"Mom! Is my backpack there?"
Meredith straightens up at the sound of Ellis's voice calling from the hallway. She glances toward the stairs, watching Ellis appear at the top, her face scrunched in mild frustration.
Meredith pulls the backpack from the chair by the door and hands it to her, "Here you go. We're almost heading out! Tell your brother and sister."
Ellis takes it, giving her a brief smile. "Okay!"
She's already turning back toward the stairs, the usual energy and lightness in her steps still present, though there's something in her eyes that makes Meredith pause for a moment.
With a sigh, Meredith glances back at the kitchen, at the remnants of her quiet morning routine. The sound of the kids' chatter, their normal routine, should feel like enough, but her mind still drifts.
Her phone rings and she winces.
"It's my day off, dammit," she groans. She pulls the phone out of her pocket and realizes it's not in fact the hospital.
A picture of Derek with the kids appears. It's easier to have that as a contact picture than the one she used to have. The one with his arms around her.
She hesitates. He never calls her. He calls Zola's phone directly or texts her asking if it's a good time to talk to the kids. Communication between the pair is scarce especially after her drunken escapade. She's not sure she can ever face him.
She waits for the call to go to voicemail. It does. But then it rings again.
Meredith furrows her brow. Crap, she thinks, Amelia told him about Zola. Dammit.
She inhales and braces herself for a fight.
"Hey, I'm getting the kids ready. Now's not a good-"
"Meredith," he quietly says.
"Are you okay?"
She can hear him gulp and shakily inhale, "Derek?"
"It's my mom," he mutters, "She passed away this morning."
Suddenly everything stops. And she can't move forward.
A/N: I told things moved quickly.
It's easier to blame things on moms. At least in my experience. Zola found the post-it at Mer's at the beginning of this story and she's confused why she found it if Mer and Derek are divorced. Things don't get saved for no reason. Right?
For this chapter, I wanted to really tear Meredith and Derek apart. When she's at her lowest, she avoids and drinks. He's already alone. He's already fallen down the drunken well so there's nothing left for him to do but run. And Carolyn's sickness provides the perfect excuse. (I also have a soft spot for her.) So he's run off to New York. Where he originally ran away from. I also wanted to take you back to that moment where Meredith pushes him to leave to D.C. and he's just standing there calling her bluff. It's cruel, I know. But it sort of mirrors this. Kind of.
Thank you for encouraging me to continue this piece. I have a good chunk of future chapters written out but I've been swamped with school and work. And sometimes writing this is also a little draining because ideas don't flow as easily as they did when I first started writing for this fandom. So one-shots have been good practice. Which reminds me, I have a few new ones up.
Please let me know your thoughts. I know I'm putting Zo through the ringer. I know it's a lot of angst but trust me...IT. WILL. PAY. OFF.
Until next time!