You're Like Coming Home

28.

Meredith couldn't sleep. Which was weird because she loved sleep. Sleep was amazing, and usually the only time she couldn't sleep was when Derek wasn't with her, which was actually pretty rare these days. But right now, even though Derek lay sound asleep beside her, his arm thrown over her stomach, there was no way she would be able to fall asleep.

Maybe it was the fact that she was in her old house, the house, she had spent so many nights sneaking out of to meet Addison instead of spending lonely evenings alone in her room. But she was pretty sure that it was because she had seen her father for the first time since she could really remember, and she wasn't sure what to do about it.

If she could work up the courage to see him, she knew it would be awkward and uncomfortable for everyone. Thatcher obviously had no interest in knowing her; if he did, he would have contacted her when he found out that Ellis was sick. And when, if, they did meet for real, she knew she could find out what he really thought of her and her mother, and she wasn't sure she could stomach hearing that, even if she could predict what he was going to say.

On the other hand, not meeting him would always cause her to wonder what would have happened. She wasn't someone who could let go of her demons easily, and she wouldn't be quick to forget the opportunity she had had to really meet her father and know more about who she was. Even if it was bad, she would at least know more about her past and her family.

She sighed as she slid out from under Derek's arm and reached for her robe to pull on over her sweatpants and T-shirt. If she couldn't sleep, maybe she should just pack some more stuff. The sooner they could get out of here and back to New York, the better it was for everyone.

When she flicked on the light to her mother's study, she was surprised to see that many of the boxes had already been cleared out. Michael and Emma must have done some work while she and Derek had lounged on the couch and watched a movie that afternoon. None of them were about to let her start packing after passing out earlier that morning.

She sank to the floor and opened a box, frowning when she saw piles of black notebooks staring up at her. She reached for the one on top and opened it, her eyes widening as she saw her mother's handwriting, capturing the emotions her mother felt right after Meredith had left for school. She quickly flipped to the back of the diary to see the last entry the day that her mother had checked herself into the assisted living facility.

With a gasp, Meredith looked through each of the diaries, looking at the dates on the top of the first page until she saw a familiar one.

March 23, 1972. The day Meredith was born.

My daughter is beautiful. At this point in time, I can't imagine anything more perfect than holding my daughter.

As Meredith read those lines, she felt herself relax, knowing that for at least a moment in time, her mother had been excited about her, had loved her.

"Meredith?"

Her head snapped up to see Michael standing in the doorway, a concerned expression on his face. "Michael," she gasped, quickly slamming the book closed and throwing it back into the box. "Um...what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep so I was just going to make some tea," Michael said. "Care to join me?"

"Oh," Meredith nodded as she stood and walked towards the doorway. As much as she loved Derek's father, she'd never spent any time alone with him, but it might be nice to get perspective on the whole dad thing. "Sure."

Michael smiled warmly as he followed her into the kitchen. "So how's it feel to be back in your house?" he asked as he sat down at the counter, allowing her to boil the water.