Meredith Grey hadn't been feeling well since Monday, when she had woken up with a splitting headache, achy muscles and the desire to never leave her bed again. By Thursday, these symptoms had morphed into a rising fever and an upset stomach severe enough to make the thought of eating anything impossible. She was sitting crossed legged on the floor of the locker room, leaning forward slightly as it seemed to be helping her stomach settle, and chasing a few ibuprofen tablets with long swigs from a half-empty bottle of Pepto-Bismol. She held her cellphone in her slightly clammy free hand and moaned in misery into the receiver. "Cristina? Cristina this is awful and horrible and I need to whine to someone before my head explodes."

"This is why you should just move back to Seattle, then you could bitch to me about your tummy-ache in person." Meredith snorted a little, unable to help herself. The awkward motion made her head feel worse. She wiped the sweat off of her forehead with a dirty pair of scrubs and pressed the phone more tightly to her ear, afraid it might slip out of sweaty fingers.

"Don't give me that. I'm your person. I know you, and I know you would never intentionally expose yourself to anything that might force you to take twenty minutes off of work," Meredith replied, she leaned back a little against the cold metal lockers and braced herself for another wave of nausea. She heard Cristina scoff.

"You could bitch to me from the other side of a closed door," Cristina replied. "I thought that was a given. I'm not stupid enough to have a face to face heart to heart with Typhoid Meredith right before I go into surgery." Meredith switched the phone to her other ear, trying again to get comfortable.

"I need help. Decision help. If I haven't actually vomited is it okay to go into surgery? I'm supposed to be on an abnormal appendectomy." She heard Cristina laugh and it made her smile a little. "The guy has appendicitis…in two separate appendices. Cristina stopped laughing instantly.

"Mer, you have to see that. You have to do the surgery and tell me why and how this guy has two inflamed appendices. I need you to do this for me. Mind over matter, you aren't sick. You're strong." Meredith leaned back again and took another swig of her bottle of Pepto.

"Yeah, okay. I will. I just…mind over matter," she took a deep breath. "I have to go Cristina. I'll tell you all about it once the house finally quiets down, so I guess about 7pm your time?" Cristina said ne last goodbye and Meredith hung up the phone. She carefully slid it back into her bag and just looked up at the ceiling for a few moments before getting up.

She took one last long drink of the smooth pink liquid and put it carefully back into her locker, next to her bag for heading out the door and towards OR 3. The lights seemed a little brighter than usual, and the little flecks of color in the floor were making her a little bit dizzy. She looked away from the floor and focused her thoughts on the appendectomy. This was probably going to be the least boring appendectomy she would ever preform and by god she was going to enjoy it.

By the two-hour mark however, she wasn't enjoying it too much. The hour allotted had dragged on into two, and was now nearing three, yet the surgical team still wasn't finished. The man was quite a bit heavier than anticipated, and trying to move and cut through the extra layers of fat had taken a while. On top of that, one of the appendices was in imminent danger of bursting, but its proximity to a prominent vein was worrying, and extra precautions had to be taken to get around it. This is what Meredith was focused on while she tried to tune out one of her interns asking if she needed a break. "Uh, Dr. Grey? I don't want to bother you but you look kind of pale, do you need some water or something?" Meredith didn't even bother looking up at the girl who had spoken, quietly telling her that she was fine. The lights in the OR were usually helpful, but Meredith could feel the heat on the back of her neck and swallowed roughly.

It took another twenty minutes before the surgery was finally completed, and Meredith stepped back to allow an intern to finish up closing the epidermis. As soon as the patient was handed off to the post-op team to be wheeled into recovery, Meredith stumbled into the scrub room and slid down to the floor, taking a few deep breaths to steady herself before slowly rising to her feet again and scrubbing out. She removed her mask and gown before moving to her cap and gloves. The cool water felt wonderful on her hands and she considered splashing some on her face for a moment before deciding against it. As she turned to dry her hands another wave of nausea hit her and she emptied her stomach into the trash can where she'd just thrown her soiled gloves.

She quickly looked around, relieved no one had seen it happen. She had moved here to avoid being treated like a kicked puppy, and she wasn't about to give that up for the title of 'Meredith, the poor, sick, resident.' She wiped her mouth and in doing so caught a glimpse of the clock. It was 5:30pm. Meredith bolted up, ignoring her stomach gurgling in protest. Up until this point she had been blissfully unaware of the time it had taken to complete the surgery. She pulled at the door handle, feeling slightly guilty about leaving her mess in the trash can of the scrub room, but the trip to the locker room seemed long enough even without a trip to maintenance to sheepishly explain the issue.

She gathered her things as quickly as possible, not even bothering to change out of her sweaty scrubs and into the clothes she had brought for herself. She shoved her car keys into the front pocket of her worn blue top and took another long sip of the Pepto-Bismol she'd left in her locker. The walk back to her car was tortuous, and, while she'd felt way too hot in the operating room, the December air made her feeling like her skin was burning in an entirely different way. The slushy snow was seeping into her worn sneakers, wetting her socks and numbing her feet.

As soon as she reached her car, she reached into her bag for her phone, fumbling around with several different objects before finding it. She dialed the number by heart, and took a deep breath, hoping the person on the other end would pick up. "Hello?" The woman's voice was familiar and clear, but obviously tinged with a bit of annoyance. Meredith closed her eyes tightly and rubbed her temples.

"I'm on my way. I got tied up in surgery again. I know it's the second time this week, but I really appreciate your extra help," Meredith said, trying to ignore how tired she sounded. She didn't want pity, she just wanted some understanding. "I'll be on time tomorrow; you have my word."

"Do remember that if you're late for a third time you will be required to pay double the regular overtime fee," the woman said, then hung up. Meredith shoved the phone into her bag, irritated. It wasn't the woman's fault, but it was much easier to be irritated at one person than to be irritated about vague hours that came along with her chosen career. She started the car and leaned back for a moment, hoping that the returning nausea would leave her alone until she got home.

By the time Meredith pulled into the parking lot, the dim nearly burnt-out clock on the dashboard of her car told her it was nearing 6pm. The road was covered in the same dirty grey snow as the hospital parking lot, run over by countless busses and cars throughout the day. It was already dark out, so she tried to park near a light post so she could see enough to get her keys. As she stepped out of the car again she was reminded of the fact she didn't have any boots, and the sudden rush of cold made her feel even worse. As she approached the door of the building, she could see motion behind the brightly printed words on the door, proudly proclaiming that this was "The Boston School for Science." Underneath these letters, "K-5" was printed in smaller, even brighter text. Underneath those letters were the imprints of two small faces pressed against the glass. Before she had the door half open she was hit by two little bodies, one at her right side and one at her left. She nearly gagged, but instead bent down and hugged the two children tightly to her chest. "There are my boys. I missed you so much." Meredith could see the boys' after-school program director glaring at her from over the mess of black hair and the two big red jackets. "I'm so sorry Miss Whitmore. How much extra do I owe you this time?" Miss Whitmore took a long, deep breath.

"Fifty dollars," she said finally. "Meredith, if you can't be here on time to pick them up, we are going to have to kick your sons out of the after school program. Perhaps you should hire a nanny to pick them up from school?" Meredith winced. Nannies were expensive, and she was already stretching herself thin by sending the boys to a private school. She really didn't want to force them to switch schools. They were comfortable, and she had been told by countless other doctors at Massachusetts General Hospital that it was the best school in the area. Meredith was caught between wanting to push the boys away in fear she would vomit on them, and wanting to pull them closer to make sure they knew that she loved them and had missed them too.

"I-I'll be on time the rest of the week. I was just tied up in a tricky surgery today." She handed Miss Whitmore a few bills from her purse, then took a small hand into each of hers. Miss Whitmore's wrinkled lips formed a stern line but features were arranged in a manner that screamed pity. Meredith looked away as she was pulled towards the door. "I-I'm sorry. I really will be on time."

Between being pulled forward by both hands and the icy path under her feet, Meredith felt a bit like she was riding a ski-lift, something she was not at all okay with at the moment. "Slow down a little, it's icy," she instructed. She saw the devilish glint cross the big blue-green eyes of the boy on the right and before she was even able to say anything she was being pulled forward so hard that she slipped and fell forward onto the ice. She clutched her stomach again, trying to swallow back the bile in her throat. When she looked up the devilish look and been replaced with concern.

"Mommy? Are you okay? I didn't mean it!" He tried to grab Meredith's hand but she pushed him away as she began to heave, trying to ensure if she got sick it wouldn't be on her son. She could him crying and reached out for him again when she was sure the nausea had passed.

"Evan, Evan, I'm sorry, come here." Evan took a few tentative steps forward before stepping into his mother's arms as he continued to sob. "Shh, it's okay Ev, you didn't do anything wrong." She held out her other arm for her other little boy, who instantly took it.

"Miss Whitmore said that maybe you forgot us and went home. Did you forget me and Evan, mommy?" He began to tear up as well and Meredith brought him to her chest. She wanted to cry herself. She was their person and she hadn't been there for them.

"Zach honey, you listen to me okay?" The little boy nodded tearfully. "I love you and Evan more than anything in the world, and I would never ever forget about you." She held them both tightly as they cried. She had been recently given an intern class and her hours had gotten consistently higher and higher despite her requests to cut back to where she had been before. Dr. Jonas wasn't Dr. Webber. Dr. Jonas didn't give anyone special treatment especially members of staff that asked for things like extra time off, and he certainly didn't view Meredith like a daughter. "I'm going to figure all of this out," she murmured, more to herself than to either of her sons. "I can make this work."

Meredith kissed both of their heads than stood up slowly. "Do you boys know what you want for dinner? We can go and pick up some food from anywhere you want to, just this once." Zach kicked a chunk of ice lightly while he thought for a moment while his brother's forehead wrinkled in concentration.

"Chicken nuggets," Evan finally said, "from the red store by the houses with the big rocks." Zach nodded in agreement and Meredith was relieved that for once they both agreed on something. She smiled and nodded, as she helped each of her sons into their booster seats. Fast food wasn't anything they had often, but she felt too ill to really cook and she knew how much Zach and Evan loved it on the special occasions when they were allowed to have it.

By the time they arrived at the drive-thru, the two little boys in the backseat seemed to have gotten some of their energy back. Meredith put a hand firmly over her mouth when she got a jarring kick to the back of her seat. He heard a little giggle and another kick followed. "Zach, no kicking," she pleaded, too exhausted to really reprimand him.

"I'm doing running practice mom! I'm too slow to run to first base and be in so I have to get faster," he explained. Meredith looked at him in the rear view mirror. His dark curls were almost covering his eyes. He definitely needed a haircut next time she had a day off. He needed a trip to the gym when she had time so he could blow off some steam. He needed to see his mom for more than a view hours in between dinner and bedtime. Meredith tried to close out the nausea and swirling thoughts, she really did, but before she knew it her head was leaning out the window and she was retching.

"Do you need to go to the doctor mom?" Evan asked worriedly. "We don't have to get chicken nuggets; we can go to the doctor right now." Meredith turned to look at her son, concern etched on his features. This shouldn't be his problem. He's six years old, he's still so young.

"I'm okay Evan, I just need to take some medicine and I'll be all better. Remember last week when you had the flu and it was really icky but then it went away? That's what I have now." Zach peeked over the seat to look at his mother.

"I'm sorry you got sick. It hurted really bad when I was sick," he told his mother. "Do you need some water and a story? Stories make me feel better." Meredith turned and grabbed her son's hand tightly.

"I'm okay Zach, but thank you for being so nice to me. You too Ev." Meredith felt even worse when she reached for the fast food as the smell was driving her insane. "Keep your bags closed at wait until you get home to eat okay?"

The car ride home wasn't as bad as Meredith had been anticipating, and her sons had been a lot quieter than they usually were as they had just had what Meredith had and knew how bad it was. She was able to get them both tucked into bed in their little bedroom in their apartment an hour earlier than she'd anticipated, and despite her exhaustion, she decided to call Cristina.

The phone only rang twice before Cristina picked up, and Meredith had to turn the volume down a few notches to not exacerbate her headache. "Meredith, tell me all about the surgery. How long did it take? Did anything burst? What was all abnormal?"

"Cristina, I'm a horrible mother and I think my kids hate me," she blurted, taking a shaky breath as she tried to compose herself enough to sound somewhat normal and less crazy than she figured she was coming off.

"Meredith, your kids don't hate you. They are kids, okay? Surgery details, please. I've been dying to hear about this all day! Do you think his risk of infection is at all increased?" She wanted to throw the phone for a moment.

"Cristina, right now I need my person Cristina, not my fellow surgeon Cristina," she said quietly, swallowing back a near sob. "I really, really think my kids are going to hate me. I'm turning into my mother and I hated my mother."

"Your mother was a great surgeon, and you turned out okay so is it really all that bad? If your kids grow up to be great surgeons than you've done a great job. So what if they drink a little tequila to forget the past!" Meredith began to rub her temples.

"Haha, that's funny. Cristina I was late again today and Zach asked me if I forgot him at daycare. My 6-year-old son, who I love very much, thinks that he's so unimportant in my life that I just forget about him," Meredith said, her voice finally breaking. "I can't get a break. We're short staffed and Dr. Jonas is pushing me into doing over 80 hours a week. I drop my kids off at 6am, come get them at 6pm, and on the weekends I have to leave them with a babysitter. I just found out yesterday that Evan lost his first tooth three months ago."

"Well then maybe you should just come back to Seattle where you have friends that care about you and a chief of medicine that would do almost anything for you! I know you want to be all super dignified non-homewrecking mom but if it's not working it's not working."

"Cristina, am I being selfish," she asked quietly. "Just be honest with me, spare my dignity."

"Yeah, Meredith, you are. A few years ago, when you had a more consistent schedule, you could handle your kids on your own. You have more hours now, and now you can't. You need help and you have it back here in Seattle. Izzie? She loves kids. I can even tolerate kids once they're potty-trained. It's been almost seven years Meredith; I don't even think most of the nurses remember all the homewrecker gossip."

"What about Derek? Does Derek still work there?"

"Where else would he go? Addison still works here and for some crazy reason they're still being miserable together rather than being slightly less miserable apart. He asks about you sometimes; he'll give me access to insane surgeries for just one little question."

"You don't answer him do you? Cristina, tell me you don't answer him!"

"Of course I do! I want the surgeries, but don't worry, from what I've told him you practice in small hospital in the Yukon region of Canada and spend your nights with a new handsome foreign man every night. Oh, and you've written a novel that's only available in French coffee shops."

"Cristina! That doesn't even sound believable!"

"He's desperate enough to believe it okay, I might have taken advantage just a little bit."

"Okay, okay, I'll think about it. I have to talk to Zach and Evan and my landlord and Chief Webber and probably even Dr. Jonas, but if I have to come back to Seattle, then I will. Just don't tell anyone, okay, and don't hold me to it!" Meredith hung up without even saying goodbye, more absently than purposely. This wasn't the kind of decision that was to be made when the decision maker was exhausted, sick, and slightly emotional.

A quick couple of notes:

First of all, does anyone know how to indent in the document editor? Whenever I would save the file all of my indents would disappear and it looks awful without them.

Secondly, this is all I have written of this story, it's more of a pitch to see if in garners any interest. Please leave any comments, constructive, positive or otherwise if you enjoyed this preview or have a suggestion on how it could be improved.

Thirdly, I was possibly going to look into getting a beta reader, so if you may be interested check back for updates.

-A