Disclaimer: I don't own anything, wish I did though.

PART I

My eyes ache with the weight of unshed tears.

You are my home, do you not understand?

-Amy Lowell

Meredith Grey was hiding. She would never admit it

but that was, in fact, what she was doing.

Aimlessly wandering the cereal aisle in Walmart on what was supposed to be the biggest day of her career, was definitely not part of the plan but, here she was.

For the past hour, she had filled an entire basket full of things she was sure she didn't need but at that moment felt absolutely necessary.

A roll of toilet paper. A ball cap. Numerous post its. A spatula.

And now, pop tarts and cinnamon toast crunch.

She hated cinnamon.

As a child, Walmart had always seemed something out of a fairytale, something out of her reach because it was what normal kids with normal families did and Meredith Grey had never fit that criterion. Ellis has always said that grocery runs were for those with empty minds and no clear purpose in life and yet, despite Ellis' bitter words, or maybe because of them, Meredith had always wondered and, to some extent, romanticised the idea of grocery shopping with your family. Somehow, a part of her had looked at supermarkets as a safe haven, a place which happy functional people frequented.

So from stressful midterms weeks to days when one of her babies wouldn't stop crying, she'd come here, to think, to re-evaluate, to just breathe. She could almost feel Ellis' disapproving stare, berating her for needing space, for needing a moment to breathe but then, for her, eventually everything came back to her mother, didn't it?

She was, after all, the primary reason for Meredith's current freak out. Well her and the impending Harper Avery award ceremony. Meredith had been nominated for a Harper Avery for her abdominal wall transplant and she had dreaded the day since its announcement. She knew she could potentially be the winner of the award, she knew that the odds were in her favour and yet there was a voice in her head, uncannily like her mother's, adamant that she wouldn't win, that she wasn't good enough, she never would be. Perhaps that was the reason she was here, buying random crap when she should have been dressing up for the ceremony.

You don't have what it takes, Meredith

"Hey", she heard next to her.

She would recognise that voice anywhere, of course, she would. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed anyone creep up on her, especially not him. She glanced at him, only find him staring at her with a mix of confusion and amusement.

"You seemed a bit lost there", he murmured fidgeting with the jacket he'd thrown on over his all too familiar navy scrubs.

"Yeah, you know...shopping", she replied non-committally. He was the last person she'd expected here but then he was also one of the only two people aware of her secret freak out spot and she knew for a fact that Alex was in surgery. "So.. I thought you hated cinnamon?", he asked glancing at the box in her hand. She had expected a barrage of questions or even disapproving glances about her tardiness but not this, but then she hadn't expected to see him here in the first place.

She knew why he was here, she also knew that he was probably here under the orders of Bailey, if her million unanswered phone calls and unread text messages were any indication, yet to see him here, awkwardly shuffling his feet, seemed surreal and almost...wrong, especially after everything that had happened between them.

Too much water under the bridge..or whatever.

"Do you need any help?", he inquired. "With finding your things" he seemed to add as an afterthought.

"Milk, I need milk."

"Right. This way then."

He wouldn't quite meet her eyes. But then she couldn't blame him. All of this was rather reminiscent of the early days of their relationship. She still remembered a baffled Derek following her around, half-asleep with questions on the tip of his tongue. Over time, they'd come upon a routine with Derek waiting at home with a smile and his familiar warmth, he had taken to calling these escapades 'Wal-Outs' and then laughed at his own ridiculous joke.

In the infancy of their relationship, there was this nervousness.

Every sentence, every act calculated, for fear of stepping over the imaginary line and right now there was a nervousness too, but one oh so different. One stifled with the need to not give away too much, to not let the other get a whiff of the long-suppressed memories they'd both been holding on to.

"You know", he began "deaths from commercial airplane crashes fell more than fifty percent this past year", Derek stated running a hand through his dark curls.

"You think I'm here because I'm scared of flying?", she asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"And losing", he deadpanned.

Well, he certainly wasn't beating around the bush. Before she could bombard him with her tirade, he came to a sudden stop.

"Ahh, milk", he smirked, retrieving a carton of the milk she'd always used, from a shelf she was sure she couldn't reach. He was too.

He was infuriating, with his stupid smirk and the stupid stupid ability to read her, still.

"Oh, screw your stupid milk and your stupid face!", she growled while he looked at her incredulously.

"Mer, can we talk? Maybe out of here? Please?", he whispered.

Maybe it was the fact that her tiny outburst had brought some stares their way or maybe it was the urgency in his voice or maybe it was the fact that he was finally looking at her but whatever it was, she relented.

She had a feeling she would regret this later.