A/N: I leaned heavily on the following songs to write this:
-Wish That You Were Here- Florence and the Machine
-Gulls by David Gray
-Into the Fire (Acoustic)- Thirteen Senses
-Saturn- Sleeping At Last
Saturday mornings were a rarity in their household—at least, mornings like this. No alarms, no surgeries, no rushing out the door. Just the two of them wrapped up in tangled sheets, cocooned in the kind of comfort that came from years of knowing each other.
She felt his lips against her bare shoulder, his arm snaked under hers and wrapped around her torso pulling her closer against his chest. His fingers traced the skin revealed beneath her black tank top.
He hummed. She groaned.
They were polar opposites when it came to mornings. His chipper, happy go lucky attitude challenged her tired, grumpy persona. He was up early making breakfast. She needed caffeine before even speaking.
"I think it's time for us to-"
"No"
"We can't stay-"
"No," Meredith mumbled against the pillows, "it's Saturday. I'm not on call and you're not on call. There's no traumas, no surgeries, no sisters with all their man issues-"
Derek laughed.
"And most importantly the kids are in their own room sleeping!"
"It's almost 8. The kids are going to be up soon. We need to make breakfast-"
"I don't want to. The kids can make their own breakfast. Zola's smart, she won't burn the house down. And there's always cereal."
"That's not gonna go well, you know that," Derek chuckled, the vibration against her back, "Bailey tried to microwave a fork last week."
"That was once," Meredith murmured, burrowing deeper against him. "Besides, we have fire alarms. Good ones."
He laughed.
"If you don't burn the house down, the kids sure will," Derek kissed her cheek before she finally gave in and shifted until she was on her back.
"There," she grumbled, "Happy? I'm awake."
"You're worse than the kids, you know."
"It was your idea to go out to watch the ferryboats last night, remember?" her fingers curled against his Bowdin t-shirt he hastily pulled on as soon as they arrived home the previous night. The nights of sleeping skin to skin were long gone with three children running around. Even if they had spent the previous night making love in an all too confined space.
"Mm," he snuggled against her, "I distinctly remember someone convincing me to stay out longer and-"
"I think we're getting too old for that," she giggled as she thought back to their adventures near the ferry boat docks.
Derek leaned in to kiss her deeply before he pulled away.
Meredith sighed as her hands reached to caress his face. It'd changed over the years the lines around his eyes had deepened. His hair more silver than jet black. All proof of years of laughter and pain. Of a life well lived and a life yet to end
"We needed last night," Meredith whispered, "I love our children and I love what we do but we really needed a night to ourselves."
He hummed as he leaned in to kiss her, "Maybe we should-"
Meredith giggled, "I thought you said we needed to get up before the kids do?"
"They can-," he kissed her, "wait another-," another kiss, "twenty minutes," he kissed her again.
He pulled away and tilted his head towards the door and turned to Meredith with an apologetic look and pushed himself away.
"What's wrong?"
Tiny footsteps grew louder and louder before Derek mumbled, "Incoming-"
Meredith barely had time to react before the bedroom door flew open.
"Daddy! You're up!"
Seven-year-old Ellis stood at the threshold, her wild curls bouncing as she prepared to launch herself onto the bed.
Meredith reacted instantly, "No he's not!
"Yes he is! I see him!"
With a grin, Meredith grabbed the nearest pillow and flung it over Derek in a feeble attempt to shield him. "No way! He's mine. I had him first!"
Ellis giggled, undeterred, and wiggled her way onto the bed. "But he's my daddy! That means he's mine now!"
"Oh, is that how it works?" Meredith shot back, rolling to block her path. "I'm his wife. I get dibs."
Ellis shrieked with laughter, pushing at her mother's arms in a playful struggle. "Nuh-uh! Daddy loves me more!"
Derek, watching with amused delight, finally reached out and effortlessly pulled his daughter into his arms.
"Alright, alright," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I think there's enough of me to go around."
Ellis snuggled against him, her small arms wrapping around his neck. Meredith exhaled, watching them with something that felt achingly close to peace.
Meredith smirked. "Oh, sure she comes in and you don't want to get out of bed anymore."
Ellis yawned dramatically and nestled closer against her father. "I win."
She had never had this—not with Thatcher, not with her mother. But Ellis? Ellis would never have to wonder if she was loved.
A small smile tugged at her lips as she reached out, brushing a stray curl from her daughter's face.
"It's okay," she murmured, voice soft but steady. "You can be his favorite girl."
Derek turned, meeting her eyes, and in a quiet gesture, he reached out and gently poked her arm, a silent gesture.
Yes, their children were their world. They were everything. But the reason why they even dared to aspire for more was because of the depth of their own love for one another. That stood the test of time.
Meredith swallowed past the lump in her throat, warmth spreading through her chest.
And just like that, the morning stretched on, wrapped in laughter, warmth, and the kind of love Meredith had once thought was impossible.
Meredith inhales deeply when her eyes open. She blinks a few times as she looks around the room. She's not home, she remembers. She's not in the comfort of her home in Boston.
She's in Seattle. In a hotel room in Seattle.
She falls back onto the sheets and releases a disappointed breath.
Sometimes those dreams seem more and more real. Like they're real in another universe and she's getting a glimpse at what her life could have been in another life.
And she likes living in that universe. She likes imagining what could've happened. She likes living in this world where their youngest is the light of his eyes. Where their son follows his every step and their oldest bonds with him about everything.
She likes imagining him next to her in her loneliest moments. In the moments of complete success where she just wants to tell him every exciting thing. When she's made discoveries and taken daunting risks.
It's a simpler life. A happier life. A life they once dreamed of. A happy life in their dream house overlooking Seattle.
She envies the version of herself in those dreams.
Because when her eyes open, when the fantasy ends, she's reminded that Ellis is no longer six and that he's no longer here.
It's been ten years since she's lost him. Ten years since she lost her husband and the love of her life. Ten years since her children lost their father.
Ten years since the world felt emptier.
She stares at the ceiling of her hotel room in Seattle, the air thick with memories she can never quite outrun no matter how hard she tries . Boston has been home for years now, but Seattle still pulls at something deep inside her.
The Seattle hotel room feels foreign, too pristine, lacking the comfortable chaos of her home. But then, Seattle hasn't been home for a long time.
She's left before. She ran away from the grief and welcomed a daughter he never met.
She came back. She sold the dream house and moved back into her mother's home. She dated but none of them ever truly understood her drive and dedication. They didn't understand why it was so hard for her to trust or to open herself up. So she put an end to things and kept moving forward and focused on her children and career. She won awards and cemented her legacy in medical history- away from shadows and others' legacies.
But then she truly left. She saw her friends find their way out of Seattle one by one and when a research opportunity opened in Boston, she took it.
It was a change she needed. A change her children needed.
Because though sometimes it was easier to live in that alternative imagination she's constructed, it was also torture.
And it wouldn't be true to what he loved about her for years- the determination to move forward.
"Mom?" Zola's voice comes through the adjoining door, followed by a soft knock. "Are you awake?"
Meredith clears her throat, pushing away the remnants of the dream. "Yeah, come in."
Zola enters, already dressed in a navy blazer and slacks that make her look older than thirteen. Her hair is pulled back in a half do. She likes to think she's older than she is and sometimes it worries her just how much responsibility she takes on. And there's guilt that follows too. After all, she is a single mother and there are times where she leans on Zola a little too much.
"Alright, that's it," Derek snatches the notebook from his daughter's hands, "You're grounded."
"What?" Zola's eyes practically bulge out of her sockets, "What does that even mean?"
"It means that you need to be a kid," he leans over the island counter, "You're worried about all of us here but that's our job."
There's something about his relationship with his eldest that is so unique. She admires him. She has dreams to be a neurosurgeon just like him. And Meredith knows that though she and her daughter are close, Derek is also her best friend. She was meant to be his daughter and he was meant to be her father.
Meredith looked over the rim of her mug, eyes soft. "He's right, you know."
"But-"
"Nope," He shook his head, "No 'buts', future Dr. Grey-Shepherd. You are always taking care of your siblings and me and your mama and you are a straight 'A' student with a million extracurriculars-"
Zola rolled her eyes, "Dad-"
"You are hereby grounded," he continued without leaving any room for arguments, "And for your punishment you are being forced to be a kid."
She looked to her mother and then her father again, "Which means what exactly?"
"You're thirteen, you should know! Go watch a movie with your friends. Go to the park. Go shopping. Get into some trouble-"
"You can go to a movie with that boy you were telling me about," Meredith raised her brows and stuck her tongue out playfully.
"Mom!" Zola blushed.
"Okay, maybe not that" Derek scowled at Meredith- who couldn't help the giggle that escaped her- he turned back to his daughter, "Go do something fun!"
"Bailey won't get out of the shower, and Ellis is refusing to wear the dress we packed."
"I'll handle it." Meredith sits up as her daughter brings her back to reality "Did you eat?"
"Room service brought breakfast." Zola hesitates, her composure slipping for just a moment, "It's gonna be weird isn't it?"
Meredith studies her daughter's face, recognizing the subtle tension around her eyes. Zola has always been the steady one, the rock, even as a child. Sometimes Meredith forgets she's still so young.
"Going back?" Meredith asks softly. "Or the ceremony?"
Zola shrugs, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the comforter "Both. All of it."
She looks up, her eyes suddenly vulnerable. "I keep trying to remember his voice. Sometimes I think I can, but then I'm not sure if it's really his voice or just what I think it should sound like from the videos."
Something twists in Meredith's chest. She pats the bed beside her, and Zola sits, her posture still too perfect, too controlled.
"I know," Meredith says as she wraps her arms around Zola, "I dream about him sometimes. And when I wake up, for just a second, it feels like he was never gone."
Bailey stormed into the room next, "Alright I'm out. I thought you said we had to leave soon!"
"What do you mean 'I thought you said'? I've been saying it for the last twenty minutes," Zola sighs, standing up. "And you used all the hot water!"
"Did not," Bailey argues, his hair still damp. "There was plenty left."
Meredith rubs her temples. She loves her children, she truly does but many times she wishes he were here. It'd be easier. He'd have answers that she wouldn't have and their life would be different. She pushes herself off the bed, leaving the kids to bicker as her mind wanders again…
She's back in their old house in Bainbridge, the morning sunlight streaming through the tall floor to ceiling windows.
Derek flips pancakes at the stove. He's wearing that ridiculous "World's Best Dad" apron Zola gave him for Father's Day, his hair perfectly tousled despite the early hour.
"Who wants blueberry and who wants chocolate chip?" Derek calls out, spatula raised dramatically.
"Chocolate!" Ellis shouts, bouncing on her toes.
"Blueberry," Bailey says with the serious consideration of an eleven-year-old who's recently decided he's "growing up." And of course, his father being his hero, he wants to be exactly like him. And in many ways he is.
He's protective. And sensitive. He has a temper that's balanced with his instinct to care for others.
Zola rolls her eyes, already at the table with her phone. "Dad, you ask this every Saturday. You know what we want."
Derek smiles at Meredith as she enters the kitchen, her robe enveloping her. She gratefully takes the red mug with warm coffee he's already set aside for her,"Just making sure. People change, you know. I was blueberry for forty years until one day—boom! Chocolate chip."
"That's not true," Meredith shakes her head as she turns to her children, "I've seen him trade the chocolate chips for blueberries."
"I knew it!" Zola slams her hand on the table playfully. Derek shakes his head in mock disappointment and denial.
"You're supposed to be on my side," Derek turns to Meredith, in exaggerated betrayal. "This is mutiny."
"I'm just telling the truth," Meredith shrugs, sipping her coffee with a glint in her eye. "You're a pancake flip-flopper."
Derek abandons his spatula and advances toward her, his expression playfully menacing. "Take it back."
"Dad!" Zola interrupts, looking horrified and knowing exactly what is coming next.
"No," Meredith scrunches her nose before giggling. She backs away until she hits the counter.
"Then you leave me no choice," he murmurs, closing the distance between them. His hands find her waist as he leans in, pressing his lips against hers. Meredith melts into the kiss, coffee mug still clutched in her hands.
"Ewww!" Ellis covers her eyes dramatically.
Bailey makes exaggerated gagging noises. "We're trying to eat here!"
"Seriously?" Zola groans, turning away. "Every morning. Every. Single. Morning."
He waves them off.
He loves his children. He loves them equally and distinctly.
He still helps Zola when she needs help with her hair. He's helped her undo her braids and massage her scalp to ease the tension. He listens to her adventures in science class and has been her confidant when she began inquiring about her birth family.
Bailey admires him more than anything. He's a superhero, like the ones from his comic books and the movies. He's his biggest cheerleader at all of Bailey's sports events. And he's a steady boat when the world is just too much for their son. He's inherited Derek's temper and need to overprotect but is learning to reign it in with the help of his dad.
And Ellis? She's his baby girl. The sunshine to his rainy days and the welcome whirlwind on a calm day. She's been spoiled by him since birth and he has no control when it comes to her. She says jump, he says 'How high?'. But he's trying to get it in control before she starts escaping in the middle of the night just like her mother once did.
He's just a really good dad to their children. He's everything she knew he would be.
Derek pulls back, smiling against Meredith's lips.
"What about you, Mama," he turns to reach for the spatula again, "Blueberries or Chocolate chips?"
Meredith smiles, watching him flip a perfect pancake with that unnecessary flourish he's so proud of.
"You're showing off," she murmurs, just for him.
"Is it working?" He slides a plate toward her, a smiley face made of fresh berries atop her pancakes.
"Slightly," she admits, accepting the plate with a small smile that's just for him.
"Mom?" Bailey's voice cuts through her reverie. He's standing in the doorway, hair still damp from the shower, looking so much like Derek it momentarily steals her breath. "Are you okay?"
Meredith blinks, the kitchen with Derek dissolving back into the hotel room. "Sorry, I was just..."
She doesn't finish the sentence. "We need to get ready."
The Seattle rain taps gently against the windshield as Meredith navigates the once-familiar streets in the rental car.
"It looks different," Bailey observes from the back seat, his face pressed against the window.
"Cities change," Meredith says, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. "People do too."
When Grey Sloan Memorial comes into view, Meredith's breath catches. The building stands just as imposing as ever.
"That's where Dad worked?" Ellis asks, her voice smaller than usual, as if she didn't already know.
"That's where we both worked, remember?" Meredith corrects her as if she hasn't shared stories with her a million times before, "A long time ago."
Zola turns to her and offers a slight smile before they climb out of the car and make their way into the hospital.
The automatic doors slide open, and there he is—standing tall despite the slight stoop in his shoulders, white coat crisp as ever, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes light up the moment he spots them.
"Well, look who finally decided to grace us with their presence," Dr. Richard Webber says, his voice warm with affection despite the teasing words.
"Richard," Meredith breathes, and suddenly she's an intern again, nervous and determined and desperately trying to prove herself. The feeling passes quickly, replaced by the comfort of seeing an old friend—family, really.
The last time they'd spoken, it wasn't in the best terms. He wasn't pleased she was leaving. He was angry and disappointed. But as the day grew closer, he admitted his faults and congratulated her adding that her mother would be proud.
Still, it felt as if it were still a loose end she'd left behind. Many loose ends.
He steps forward, arms outstretched, and Meredith falls into his embrace. He smells the same—antiseptic and that particular cologne he's worn for as long as she's known him.
"It's good to see you, Meredith," he says quietly, and she can hear the unspoken weight behind his words.
When they pull apart, Richard's attention shifts to the children. "And these can't possibly be the Grey Shepherd children. "
That's when Meredith sees her—Amelia, standing a few feet behind Richard, her hands tucked into the pockets of her lab coat.
Their eyes meet across the lobby, and for a moment, neither moves.
"Aunt Amelia!" Ellis breaks the tension, darting past Richard to throw herself at her aunt.
Amelia's face transforms, the carefully neutral expression melting into something softer as she catches Ellis in her arms. "There's my girl," she murmurs, hugging her tight.
Zola approaches next, more measured but no less warm, leaning into the embrace Amelia offers. Bailey hangs back slightly, but allows himself to be pulled in when Amelia reaches for him.
"You're practically a man now," she says, her voice catching slightly as she steps back to look at him. "You are looking more and more like—" She stops, glancing at Meredith.
"Like Dad," Bailey finishes for her, "I know. Mom says that a lot."
Morning sunlight filters through the trees as Derek loads fishing gear into his old Jeep. Bailey, thirteen now, bounces on his heels beside him, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Did you check the tackle box?" Derek asks, his voice patient, gentle. "Make sure we have the flies I showed you last week—the ones with the blue thread."
"Already did," Bailey says, chest puffing with pride. "And I packed an extra line like you said. And sandwiches. And those gross protein bars Mom makes us take."
Derek laughs, the sound rich and warm in the cool morning air. He ruffles Bailey's hair—the same thick waves as his own, though Bailey's are lighter, more honey than jet black.
"Your mama," Derek says, "is very wise about many things. Especially about making sure we don't starve on the lake. She knows how you get when you don't eat."
Bailey wrinkles his nose but doesn't argue. He's wearing Derek's old fishing vest, the one Meredith had given him their first Christmas together. It's still too big, hanging off his shoulders, the pockets overflowing with the lures he's collected over the past year.
"You know," Derek says, leaning against the Jeep, "your grandfather taught me to fish when I was about your age." He pauses, a faraway look in his eyes. "I wish he could see you now."
Bailey nods solemnly. "Do you think I'm as good as you were?"
Derek's smile is soft, proud. "Better. Much better."
Meredith watches from the porch, coffee in hand, as they finish loading the car. Derek glances up, catches her eye, and gives her that smile—the one that still, after all these years, makes her heart skip.
He jogs up to the porch, kisses her quickly. "We'll be back before dinner," he promises.
"Meredith?" Amelia's voice pulls her back to the present. "Are you with us?"
The hospital lobby materializes around her again. Meredith blinks, forces a smile. "Sorry, I just-"
"I know," Amelia smiles. Meredith steps closer and embraces her.
They're sisters. True sisters. It took a long time to get there but they both realized that their initial resentment had stemmed from the pain of losing a man they both loved so much in different ways.
He was Amelia's brother. The closest thing she had to a father figure.
She was Meredith's husband. The love of her life and the father of her children.
They both claimed him. They both grieved him.
And when Meredith left, Amelia had been supportive. She'd be lying if she didn't admit that it hurt- the last tether to her brother left abruptly after all.
The small group makes its way down the corridor, Richard leading them toward the auditorium where the dedication ceremony will take place. Familiar faces nod in recognition as they pass—some Meredith can name, others blurred by time.
"We've got about twenty minutes before we need to be seated," Richard explains, checking his watch. "Miranda wanted to say hello first, and I'm sure there are others who also wanted to say hello."
As they walk through the familiar corridors, Meredith feels a strange duality—like she's both a visitor and coming home. The hospital has changed: new paint, different artwork on the walls, faces she doesn't recognize passing by. But the rhythm of it, the underlying pulse, remains the same.
They round a corner, and suddenly Meredith freezes, her eyes fixed on a particular door. On-call room 2. Without warning, the present dissolves around her.
"I have surgery in twenty minutes," she protests, though there's no conviction behind her words.
"Plenty of time," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate as he glances over his shoulder before pushing the door open. His fingers are already working at the tie of her scrub pants, "Besides, we can't sneak around the house anymore after-."
"We're really going to traumatize our kids one day," Meredith laughs, but she's already melting into him, her body responding to his touch with the familiar electricity that never seems to fade.
Derek kisses her deeply, his hands finding all the places that make her gasp.
"Mom?" Zola's voice pulls her back. "You okay?"
Meredith blinks, the vision evaporating. Her daughter is watching her with that too-perceptive gaze, the one that sometimes makes Meredith feel like Zola can see right through her.
"Just... thinking," Meredith admits, offering a small smile.
Richard gives her a knowing look but mercifully says nothing. Instead, he gestures toward a door at the end of the hallway. "Miranda's waiting in the conference room."
The moment they enter, Dr. Miranda Bailey rises from her chair, her face breaking into a rare, full smile. "Look at you all!"
The auditorium fills quickly. Familiar faces from Meredith's past mingle with strangers, all gathered to honor Derek Shepherd's legacy. More strangers than, she thinks.
They're all here to honor Dr. Shepherd, the neurosurgeon who was known for taking on impossible cases. Not Derek Shepherd, who was a complicated man who was on a never ending search for perspective and when he finally had it, his life was taken from him.
Meredith sits in the front row, Bailey and Zola flanking her sides. The kids are uncharacteristically quiet, absorbing the weight of the moment.
"Dr. Grey," a voice calls, and Meredith looks up to see a young neurosurgeon approaching. "I'm Dr. Patel. I just wanted to say your research on the Alzheimer's protein mapping is groundbreaking. I've been following your work since my residency."
Meredith offers a polite smile. "Thank you. We're making progress."
The doctor continues asking questions and others join in.
They ask about her groundbreaking Alzheimer's research in Boston and ask technical questions about her latest publication. They ask what's next.
The truth is she doesn't know what she'll do next. She just knows she has to keep moving forward. She knows she has to continue the research for a disease- a disease Derek himself tried to cure- because time is running out. She knows time is running out and she is unwilling to just give up. Her mind wanders.
"You're going to strain your eyes," he says, settling beside her on the bed, careful not to disturb her meticulous arrangement of research notes. He reaches for the glasses she's forgotten on the night stand and hands them to her.
"I'm close to something," Meredith murmurs, taking the glasses gratefully but not looking up from the data. "These protein markers are showing a pattern I've never seen documented before."
Derek leans over, studying the charts with her. "Show me."
She points to several data points. Derek listens intently, asking occasional questions that push her thinking further.
"This could change everything we know about treating Alzheimer's," she says, a rare hint of excitement breaking through her exhaustion.
"This is… you're onto something, Meredith," Derek nods, his eyes reflecting the same passion that burns within her, "Have you shown this to-"
"I mentioned it," she replies, "But Catherine's hesitant. She thinks I"m taking too many risks with the direction of this research."
"Since when do you care about what Catherine-"
"Since funding became dependent on their approval," she rolls her eyes.
He hums. She's right. Funding in research is rare. He shifts closer as he takes off his own glasses and tosses them on his nightstand. Derek presses his lips against her shoulder before he softly asks, "What are you thinking, Meredith?"
"I could be wrong," she whispers, "What if I do publish it and it leads nowhere?"
"Meredith," he sighs as his eyes soften, "This isn't just any disease for you. It never has been. That's why you'll succeed where others have failed- where I failed."
Her eyes turn back to her papers as he kisses her temple, "Your heart is in this as much as your brilliant mind."
She turns to him and smiles.
"It's late, you should get some sleep," he gently squeezes her thigh before carefully taking her documents and stacking them neatly on the nightstand. She watches for a moment.
These moments are little. They're small fragments in time that have defined her for so long.
Derek shuts off his lamp. She follows and they settle next to each other. They rest for a few moments. Sure that the other is asleep. Her eyes, however, remain open and fixate on the tumor hanging on the wall. The tumor he drew so long ago. A night she promised herself she'd never forget.
"I don't want to forget," she whispers into the dark, "I don't want to forget our friends. I don't want to forget the lives I've saved."
She feels a singular tear trail down her cheek and onto the bed, "I don't want to forget the kids. Or the ferry boat rides or the first days at school. The times they've lost their teeth or had a stupid play at school or asked us to go for career day or ice cream on the porch. I do not want to forget."
She feels his arms wrap around her, his breath lingers against her skin and she realizes he's been awake all along.
"I don't want to forget us," she whispers, her voice breaking, "I do not want to forget the tumor on the wall. Or the ferry boat scrub cap. I don't want to forget our post-it."
His lips touch her shoulder and he knows she needs to say it. She needs to say what she fears and not let it consume her.
"I don't want to forget the guy and the girl in the bar," her fingers clenched her pillow, "I don't want to forget us."
"Meredith," He shifts and suddenly, she's lying on her back looking up at him. His eyes warm and certain, "You won't."
The voices approaching her drown out her imaginings. They press on about her research but Meredith's attention drifts to Ellis, who has wandered a few steps away. Her youngest stands transfixed before a glass display case mounted on the wall. Inside is an illuminated medical illustration—a complex brain tumor rendered in precise detail, alongside a plaque that describes the revolutionary approach pioneered by Derek Shepherd. Ellis reaches out, her small fingers tracing the outline through the glass.
She finally excuses herself and makes her way towards her daughter, who turns around with a familiar look of curiosity in her eyes.
"Mom? Is that really Dad's handwriting?"
Meredith follows her daughter's gaze to a framed surgical plan displayed next to the illustration. The familiar scrawl—confident, slightly slanted—hits her with unexpected force.
"Yes," she manages, moving closer to stand behind Ellis. "That was his handwriting."
Ellis stares at it in wonder. In her mind, her father is a stranger. She's never met him. Only in photographs and stories from her mother, her grandmother, and his sisters.
She knows he loved her. He was kind. He was a good man. And now she's exploring a different side of him. The neurosurgeon who made a name for himself out of impossible cases and groundbreaking research.
"One time," Meredith crouches down, "Your dad came home so upset because a radiologist brought him some scans with a very complicated tumor. It was his and your dad didn't know what to do."
"He didn't want to help him?"
"He did. That was the problem," Meredith continued, "He wanted to help but he didn't know how and everyone told him it was impossible. But that didn't stop him. He tried doing surgery and it did not-"
Ellis' eyes widened, "His patient died?"
"No, he didn't," Meredith smiled, "You're dad came home that night and he was frustrated. He couldn't stop thinking about it and I just wanted to talk about the tumor. So he stands up, turns the bed so it faces the wall and he grabs a marker."
"What does he do?"
"He starts drawing on the wall," Meredith giggles, "Draws the entire tumor and labels it. It's this one here."
She points to the tumor Ellis had been observing.
"He went back the next day and successfully took it out," Meredith softly said, "I wasn't there but your Aunt Cristina was on the phone telling me every detail of the surgery as it happened. He came home and fell asleep on my shoulder."
Ellis stares at the illustration, her face alight with newfound understanding.
"So he drew on walls?" she asks, a mischievous glint in her eye.
Meredith laughs, then reconsiders, "Just that once."
Ellis looks confused, but before Meredith can explain, the lights dim slightly and Miranda Bailey steps onto the stage. The auditorium quiets immediately and everyone rushes to their seats.
"Today," Miranda begins, her voice strong despite its softness, "we dedicate the Derek Shepherd Neuroscience Research Laboratory."
The world shifts around her, and suddenly she's standing at a scrub sink, the familiar scent of antimicrobial soap filling her nostrils. The rhythmic sound of water splashing against the steel basin echoes in the small space.
Derek stands beside her, his peppered curls peeking out from beneath his ferry boat scrub cap, his forearms glistening with water as he meticulously scrubs each finger.
"You know," he says without looking up, a hint of smugness in his voice, "most neurosurgeons wouldn't even attempt this kind of resection."
Meredith rolls her eyes, though she can't quite suppress the smile tugging at her lips. "Most neurosurgeons don't have egos the size of Mount Rainier."
"It's not ego if it's earned," Derek counters, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he bumps his elbow playfully against hers, "Besides we're not really scrubbing in for anything are we? It's easier to hide here."
She shut the valve off and looked into the empty O.R. He's right. She's hiding again. She's hiding the way she has been the entire day. It's easier to stay in this fantasy of hers. Easier to pretend that reality is nonexistent.
"I can't find perspective," she exhales as her hands grip the edge of the sink, "I can't find it and I don't know why I'm here. I don't know what I'm doing here Derek. It's why I left. Because there's nothing left here for me anymore."
Derek's eyes soften as he turns to face her, "That's not true, Meredith. You've always have perspective."
"Everything I loved about this place…everyone I loved is gone," she whispers, her voice catching as her tear filled eyes turn to him, "You're gone."
He reaches out for a towel and dries his hands before tossing it into the empty bin by the door. He finally turns to her and cups her face with his hands. They're soft. Slightly rough from the many years of scrubbing in and out of surgery. But tender enough that the whole world melts away. It's just like she remembers.
"But they're not."
Meredith's brows furrow, "Who?"
"Our children," he says simply, "Our amazing, brilliant, stubborn children are still here. And they need you. They need you, Meredith."
"They barely remember you," she whispers, "Ellis doesn't even-"
"She will," he smiles, "I can't be there for them, Mer. I can't help Zola with her science project or take Bailey fishing or make pancakes for Ellis but you…they have you. And they need you."
"Meredith?"
She blinks, the thought dissolving. Miranda Bailey is looking at her expectantly from the podium, the audience's attention now focused on her. Meredith realizes with a start that she's been called to the stage.
"It's your turn," Zola whispers, giving her a gentle nudge.
Meredith rises, smoothing her blazer as she makes her way to the front. The walk feels impossibly long, each step weighted with memories, with absence. When she reaches the podium, Miranda hands her the microphone with a gentle squeeze of her shoulder.
"Thank you all for coming," Meredith begins, her voice steadier than she expected. "I've um..prepared something, but um…standing here now..." She glances down at the folded paper in her hands, then back up at the sea of faces. Almost everyone here is a stranger. Almost everyone here is someone who knows of Dr. Shepherd.
"Dr. Shepherd was brilliant," she continued after a pause. "Anyone who worked with him would tell you that. He had this...instinct. He could see solutions where others saw only impossibilities."
The lights of the auditorium seem to brighten and dim, and suddenly she's not alone at the podium.
That's what you're going with?" he smirks, "Oh c'mon, that's not what you want to talk about."
Derek stands beside her, leaning casually against the wooden stand, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mix of pride and amusement.
"You're really going to stand up here and boost up my ego? You hate that shit-"
"That's what these things are for, Derek-"
"Oh you hate that type of crap. Besides, they don't care about any of that," Derek whispers, now standing behind her. "That's not who I was to you or to them."
Meredith glares at him, "You're right, it's not what I want to say."
"So don't," he shrugs.
Meredith fights the urge to roll her eyes.
He's right. She doesn't want to talk about him as Dr. Shepherd. She doesn't want to stand where she is. She doesn't owe this audience anything. The only people who she owes anything to are the three children staring at her with wide, curious eyes.
Her shoulders fall. She releases the paper she's been holding on to and grips onto the corners of the podium.
"I can stand here and tell you about so many of his cases that defied odds and the patients he saved and I can tell you about him being a great teacher- especially when he saw talent in you- I can tell you that first hand.
"I can tell you his ego was bigger than the state of Texas and that his stupid charm got him everything he wanted. I can tell you that he was a hell of a doctor. I can- I can do that but I don't want to."
She looks down at the three children looking at her.
"Why did you agree to this, Meredith," Derek asks, "What's the point of standing here in front-"
"Because our kids deserve to know their dad," she whispers as her eyes well.
Derek nods as he turns to them, "Then tell them I wanted to stay. Tell them I would do anything to be with them. Tell them I-"
Meredith takes a deep breath, her gaze fixed on her children's faces. Bailey, so much like his father it sometimes hurts to look at him. Zola, strong and steady, her eyes wise beyond her years. And Ellis, who never had the chance to know her father at all.
She pauses, swallowing hard. The silence in the auditorium is absolute.
"The thing about Derek was that he believed in possibilities. He believed in second chances and third chances and however many chances it took to get it right. He believed in fighting for what mattered, even when—especially when—it seemed impossible."
"He was an extraordinary surgeon," she continues, her voice finding new strength. "But what made him truly remarkable wasn't how he held a scalpel or mapped a tumor. It was how fiercely he loved."
She pauses, steadying herself against the podium.
"He loved this hospital. He loved medicine. He loved solving the impossible cases that others had given up on. But more than anything, he loved his family."
Her eyes find her children again, and she sees Bailey sit up straighter.
"Derek didn't want to leave us. He fought to stay. He wanted to come home to us. He would've done everything he could to be here if he could've helped it."
The auditorium is silent now, hanging on her words. In her peripheral vision, she sees Amelia wipe away a tear.
"He wanted to come home- after reaching the pinnacle of his career," she continues as she thinks of the fights, the yelling, the scowls.
The way he showed up and told her he couldn't and wouldn't live without her. The way he was so determined to make everything right. To resign and return home and rebuild their life. To want more. To have more.
"He just wanted to come home."
"The job never mattered, Meredith," Derek says, "If I could go back, I would've never taken that job. I would've stayed home. I would've-"
"I shouldn't have let you go," she says, "There's a lot we could've done."
"I know," Derek says softly, his presence so vivid she can almost feel the warmth of him beside her.
There are many things she wishes she could take back. Many things from those last few months they shared where they were fighting over jobs. What was the point if they'd lose each other so brutally?
If she could, she'd defy the odds just to bring him back. For herself and her children. For his sister and his mother.
She'd do anything to bring him back.
Meredith looks back to the audience, realizing she's gone quiet for too long. She clears her throat.
"The thing about grief is that it doesn't end," she says, her voice steadying. "You try to move forward and you do. You keep going. We kept going. And still it's ten years later and I still find myself turning to tell Derek something or argue with him in my head."
A soft ripple of knowing laughter passes through the audience.
"And I see him every day in our children." Her voice softens as she looks at them. "In Bailey's curiosity and the way his brow furrows when he concentrates. In Zola's compassion and her patience. And in Ellis- in the way she hovers and in her grace and in her charm."
Ellis sits a little taller, her chin lifting slightly.
"In the way all of you care so much for everyone you love," she swallows a lump of emotion in her throat, "And if he were here he'd be so proud of you."
Meredith says, her voice thick with emotion but unwavering,
"He would tell you that his legacy isn't this lab, or the techniques he pioneered, or even the lives he saved." Meredith's voice steadies. "His legacy is his kids because if there is one thing he ever hoped for is that they learned to be good. And kind. And honorable. And he'd be so proud to know that they are."
"He saved four lives the day he died," Meredith continues, "He chose to save lives because that's who he was."
"He was good. And kind. And honorable."
"That's because I met you," her imaginary Derek whispers.
"So today, as we dedicate this laboratory in his name, we're not just honoring his memory. We're continuing his work. We're carrying forward his belief that the impossible is just waiting to be solved."
"And that every day," she smiles, pausing as she looks towards Amelia. And then to a photograph on display near the entrance. His smile, frozen in time, looks back at her with the same warmth she remembers.
"Is a beautiful day to save lives."
Meredith stares at the plaque at the door. Her arms are folded across her chest. The crowd has moved into an adjoining room where there are drinks and appetizers. The type of party he would've liked.
"I'd say we're even," Derek says as he stands next to her with his hands in his pockets, "You get a Harper Avery and I get a lab."
"It's a Catherine Fox now," Meredith scoffs, as she peers at him. He's wearing a simple suit and her favorite blue tie, "And I have a lab. With my name on it."
"Dammit, you win," Derek mutters under his breath, a hint of mock frustration, "This whole being dead thing is not working for me."
Her smile fades.
"No it's not," she mutters.
"Mom? You okay? Who are you talking to?"
Meredith turns to find Bailey watching her, his eyes—so much like Derek's—searching her face with that same perceptive intensity.
"No one," she says quickly, then softens. "Just thinking out loud."
Bailey doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't press. Instead, he moves beside her, studying the plaque that bears his father's name.
"Do you think he would've liked it?" he asks after a moment. "The lab, I mean."
Meredith considers this, tilting her head slightly. "He would've pretended to be humble about it," she says finally, a small smile playing at her lips. "But secretly? He would've been thrilled."
Bailey nods, his eyes still fixed on the plaque.
"He would've been bragging about it to everyone," Zola adds as she joins them with Ellis in tow. Ellis stands in front of her mother, letting her wrap her arms around her.
"He would," Meredith laughs, "And he would also be complaining that I still have more awards than he does."
Ellis giggles, the sound bright in the empty hallway. "Would he be mad that you're winning?"
"Oh, no," Meredith says, shaking her head. "He'd pretend to be jealous, but secretly he'd be so proud."
"I once printed a fork using a 3D printer and everyone mocked me. But not him. He was the only one who believed in me."
There were more joyous moments in their shared life than people ever knew. While she shared the neurosurgeon with the world, she had the version of Derek that many saw. The man who was simply trying to find perspective in life. Perspective after watching his father being shot, practically raising his sister, protecting his mother, reviving his sister after she had been dead for three minutes, living with the knowledge that it was his prescription pad she stole to feed her addition, a betrayal from the woman he once thought was the love of his life and his best friend who was practically a brother, and all the horrors he had survived.
And when he finally had perspective, when he finally had everything he wanted, everything he needed, it was all taken away.
His family stands there in silence for a moment, looking at the plaque that bears Derek's name. There's something sacred about this moment—just the four of them, together, acknowledging what they've lost and what they still have.
"We should probably join the reception," Meredith finally says, though she makes no move to leave.
"Five more minutes?" Ellis asks, leaning back against her mother.
"Five more minutes," Meredith agrees, tightening her arms around her youngest.
Zola leans against the wall, her eyes traveling from the plaque to her mother's face. "You still talk to him, don't you?" she asks quietly.
Meredith hesitates, caught off guard by the direct question. She considers deflecting but finds she doesn't want to. Not with them.
"Sometimes," she admits. "When I need to make a big decision. Or when something reminds me of him."
"Me too," Zola nods, "I write him letters in my journal. Do you think that, maybe-"
"I do," Meredith smiles at her daughter, knowing well what she's asking.
Zola smiles before wrapping her arms tighter around herself.
"He's around," Meredith exhales, "And he's smiling at everything you three do."
"I think he'd be proud of you too, Mom," Bailey says, his voice quiet but steady. "For everything you've done since... you know."
Meredith feels her throat tighten. She's never quite sure how to respond when her children acknowledge her grief, her struggle, her perseverance. It's always been easier to focus on theirs.
"I hope so," she manages, her voice barely above a whisper.
"He would be," Zola says with conviction. "You've done everything—raised us, continued your research, won awards—all while..." She trails off, suddenly looking younger than her thirteen years.
"While missing him," Ellis finishes simply, looking up at her mother with those clear, unflinching eyes that sometimes seem to see right through her.
Meredith nods, unable to speak for a moment. She takes a deep breath, composing herself.
They're silent for a moment as they stare at the plaque. Suddenly, Meredith turns to her children.
"I have an idea."
The ferryboat cuts through the dark water, the Seattle skyline a glittering backdrop against the night sky. Meredith leans against the railing, the sea breeze cool against her face. Bailey, Zola, and Ellis stand beside her, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the ferry's lights.
"I can't believe you've never brought us here before," Zola says, her voice carrying over the low hum of the engines and the gentle splash of waves against the hull.
"Your dad had a thing for ferry boats," Meredith replies, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
"Is that why you brought us here?" Ellis asks, her small hand slipping into Meredith's. "To think about Dad?"
"No," Meredith shakes her head, "Well yes but-"
"I brought you here so you can feel him," she says, "Because he's here. He's everywhere. And when you need to talk to him, when you need him, just picture him on a ferry boat."
"I feel him!" Ellis gleefully shrieks, innocence etched on her face, "He's here!"
Something tugs at Meredith, she looks up at the top deck and smiles.
The wind whips her hair across her face as she stands on the lower deck of a ferryboat crossing Puget Sound. The lights of Seattle twinkle in the distance, the water dark and vast around them.
"I told you ferryboats were special," Derek says, appearing beside her at the railing. His hair is ruffled by the breeze, his eyes reflecting the distant city lights.
"You've mentioned it," Meredith replies, fighting a smile. "About a hundred times."
Derek reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a tenderness that makes her breath catch. His fingers linger against her cheek.
"Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"The McDreamy look," she says matter-of-factly. "The one where your eyes get all... you know."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he murmurs, but his eyes crinkle at the corners as he steps closer, his hand finding hers on the railing.
"Bailey is gonna kill me you know," she says, "And when everyone finds out-"
"You have an out, Meredith," he whispers, "You can still say no."
She stares at him.
She shouldn't.
She can't.
When everyone finds out, she'll be outcast.
Her career will suffer
If her mother knew, she'd disapprove.
Still, there's something about this man, something she cannot quite understand. Because he's here. He's everywhere. And it's not about a one night stand- she won't deny it, it was a good one night stand. But this is more.
Meredith reaches for him, her fingers tangle in his dark curls. She pulls him close, their lips meeting in a kiss that feels like coming home. The world around them fades—the ferry, the water, the distant city lights—until there's nothing but the two of them, suspended in this perfect moment. His lips are warm and familiar against hers, his hands steady. Like they've been lovers for eons.
And this terrifies her. Because whatever happens next. Whatever story follows, she knows it'll be extraordinary.
And she hopes it'll be forever.
"Mom?"
The voice shatters the memory. A real true memory. One she hopes, one she prays and implores she never forgets.
Meredith blinks, finding herself back on the present-day ferry, her children watching her with curious expressions.
"Sorry," Meredith says, forcing a smile. "Just remembering something."
"About Dad?" Ellis asks, her eyes wide with interest.
Meredith nods, wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "About Dad."
"Want to tell us about it?" Zola asks, her eyes studying Meredith's face with that perceptive gaze that sometimes feels too knowing.
She turns back and smiles. Derek stands a few feet away, leaning against the ferry's edge with that easy confidence he always carried. His hair is still dark, though now threaded with silver. Laugh lines frame eyes that remain impossibly blue, even in the dim ferry lights. He's wearing the navy sweater she always loved, the one that brought out those eyes, and his smile.
His shoulders are broader, his stance more relaxed. The Derek she knew was always slightly restless, always planning the next surgery, the next research project, the next big thing in life.
This Derek watches their children with peaceful contentment, his expression filled with pride.
"Maybe someday."
A/N: Derek come back, we miss you. I've written him so much through AU fics that I kind of took that mentality and applied it to Meredith. She became the surgeon she is because of the pain she felt after losing him due to medical negligence. And their kids barely got to know him so she's created this au of her own where her kids know him so well and where they're happy. Because that's what was supposed to happen. And before I get yelled at...Amelia is so important to him but I wanted this to focus primarily on the kids and Meredith. Also, this is removed from any canon events except the Boston move. So no whats-his-face.
I also feel this piece was so cathartic and like my own closure to this character. I hope we get something like this one day. But we probably won'tAnyways, please let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!