A/N: Ok, this is my first stab at this. I usually write original stuff, I'm in the middle of a novel right now, but have been experiencing severe writer's block. My hope is that this will help me get through that.

So, the story, it will mainly focus on Meredith's daughter, Halle (pronounced Hayley - and I could spell it that way, but I'm weird). It will jump back and forth between present (2032) and past (2007) when Halle was born. The chapters will all be from different points of view, with the main focus being on Halle. Enjoy and thanks for reading!

Seattle, May, 2032

"I thought I heard you come in."

I jump slightly at the sound of my mother's voice as she enters my room. Well, my old room I guess. At 25, I'm not so sure I can call a bedroom at my parent's house mine.

"Yeah, Miranda dropped me off a few minutes ago. I thought you were going to the hospital."

"I was. But then I figured I'd wait around cause my baby girl was coming home. And I still can't believe you call her Miranda."

"What would you like me to call her? Nazi? That would make family dinners interesting. Hey Nazi, please pass the potatoes."

"Aren't they already interesting enough?"

"This is true," I tell her through a chuckle thinking of the crazy, mixed up family I'm a part of, "What time do you have to be in?"

"ummm...an hour ago? I technically started at 6, but I moved a few surgeries and told the chief I had to be here to see my baby."

"I bet that went over well...how'd you win that one?"

"The same way I always do." She answered, a smirk appearing on her face.

"ewwww..."

"Are you still grossed out by the thought of your parents having sex?"

"ummm...yeah. No kid wants to think about that mom, seriously. No matter how old they get."

"Well Hal, it happens. You and your sister weren't adopted. Did I ever tell you about that night?" She asks, her voice trailing off.

"Stop. Yes, yes you did, he did, and I'm pretty sure Aunt Christina did one night after she had a few too many."

"It was," She begins, in a teasing voice.

"The night of prom...yada, yada, yada. Please stop. I was hoping we could go visit Joe and have lunch, but now, all I want is you to go to the hospital. Go share your conception stories with Christina...or Izzie...or a patient for all I care. Just do it some where else." I tell her, with a voice full of laughter and eyes full of tears.

"You know you love 'em." She tells me, picking up a pillow off the chair and throwing it at me.

"Like I love a hot poker in my eye." I tell her, throwing the pillow back across the room and plopping down on the bed.

"Alright baby, I really do need to go now."

"Yeah, you do...or the chief will...I don't know, make you sleep on the couch."

"No dear, I'll be sleeping here, you will be on the couch."

"That's what you think," I tell her as she turns and heads out the door. Before she's made it completely out, I grab a pillow off the bed and nail her, square in the butt. "That," I say, "Is what I think."

"Later, missy, you're all mine." She yells as she makes her way down the stairs.

I lie back on the bed and start thinking about unpacking. Soon, I hear mom's car backing out of the driveway. My mind quickly drifts as I take in everything in my room. For the most part, nothing has changed. Nothing physically anyway. My eyes fall on the pictures on my night stand. I pick up the middle one, a photo of myself, mom, and Hannah. I think Hannah and I were about nine at the time, and I believe it was taken at the zoo. I trace the outline of the three of our heads, pulled together and all smiling, and really, that's what I remember most about childhood. The laughter and smiling. Despite the strange upbringing we had, Hannah and I were, for the most part, happy. There was food on the table and toys in our rooms and more love to go around than the two of us would ever need.

Of course there is that obvious damage. We all have it. Like my mom said once, we are all damaged. Sometimes it's intentional, more often than not, it's unintentional, but it happens. No one gets through life completely unscathed. Just doesn't happen. Pure and simple. I'm pretty sure we were the only kids in our class making Father's Day cards for Uncle George and Grandpa Richard. Men who were by no means grandpa or uncle and sure as hell not father, but, they were definitely something. And there is no doubt in my mind that we would have been in a world of hurt without them.

I pick up the picture on the left of the table, another favorite. It's from my college graduation/medical school acceptance party. I place the one of my mom and sister back on the table and pick up the photo of my dad and I. He had made a speach in my honor, I almost chuckle now at how hard it was to hold the tears in at the time, and when he was done, I got up and hugged him. We were both laughing through our tears, and my always prepared Willam caught the perfect moment on camera. Laying on the bed, I think that it's almost amazing how happy we are, were, have been since day one. I remember back to the days when I didn't know who he was, and I didn't know who I looked like and acted like, and why my mom wouldn't let me listen to The Clash.

I set that picture down, taking one last glance at it and the one of my mom and sister as my eyes drift to the frame on the right. If the other two are my past and present, this one is definitely my future. I pick up the two fold frame Miranda gave me two years ago. The first picture is of William and I after a soccer game when we were about...six...seven...I don't know. Back when boys had cooties, but William was different. He never had cooties, he was always my best friend. The second picture it holds is from Valentine's Day, my birthday, two years ago. It was taken at Delancy's, one of the fanciest restaurants in Seattle. Again, we're happy. His arm is around my shoulders, my right arm around his waist, and my left hand held high for all to see.

I place the picture back on the table and sink deeper into my thoughts. Sometimes I wish I could go back and live in the soccer picture or the zoo photo...or in my dad's hug. What if this isn't right? What if something goes wrong? What if we're not happy? It happens, I mean, look at dad. He thought he was happy for 11 years. It took him ten more years for him to decide what was really important. What if this isn't really what I want?

"Hey there baby girl."

I look up and meet my dad's eyes. I was so deep in thought I didn't even hear him come in the house or in my room.

"Hi Daddy."

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"I...I don't know." I tell him as I hurriedly wipe away tears I didn't know I was crying.

"Did I ever tell you that you're a really bad liar?" He asks, moving towards the bed.

"Nah…but I guess you're right. That was more Hannah's thing than mine." I tell him, as I look up and my gaze meets his. As identical blue eyes meet for the first time in months, I take in the man in front of me. Age has treated him kindly, the only thing hinting he's a day over forty five are the wisps of grey that have replaced the brown. I smile in amazement at how much we are alike. I have my mother's build, but that's about it. My hair, my eyes, both his, and I remember back to childhood, how frustrated I used to get not understanding why I didn't look more like Hannah and my mom.

"Be nice to your sister. And, speaking of Hannah, her flight is delayed in New York. She's not getting in until tomorrow."

"Yeah? What area code did she call from? Ten bucks says she's at Joe's…drinking Tequila…picking up a guy…and going home with him."

"Halle, seriously, stop. You two will always be my little girls. No matter how old you get, so please refrain from sharing your sexcapades."

"Not mine…hers. She's much more interesting. And I am being nice. I love my sister."

"Right. Back to you. Why is it that I find you up here crying, coming up upon what is supposed to be the happiest day of your life?"

"That day was fifteen years ago, dad. But…what…what if I'm not ready. We're not ready. Something happens. I mean, we're young. I…I just finished medical school. Will still has a year left. There's so much time for god knows what to go wrong. I mean, how do you know. You…you thought you knew. You and Addison got married young…and you thought it was forever. I mean, what if something happens…and…and it's not."

"Whoa….calm down. Honestly sweetie, I can't tell you that life is a fairy tale and that everything will be ok, because I don't know that it will. You just have to go with it, and make it your fairy tale. Will has been your best friend forever, he's like an offset of you, we don't see one of you without the other, and we haven't since you were three. And, I have a good feeling about you two. You'll have the fairy tale, cause babe, you deserve it. If anyone does, it's you. If, if something were to happen, then it happens for a reason. Addison and I, we had sixteen wonderful years. And for a while, I prayed for nothing other than for us to go back to normal. But, it didn't happen. And I thank God everyday for the unanswered prayers, because your mother and I, what we have is special…and it brought us you and your sister. Halle, you and Will, you guys have it too. You'll look gorgeous on Saturday and Australia will be fantastic, then you'll have the house and the dog and the career and the houseful of kids, or just lots of fun trying."

"Daaad. The whole sex thing…that goes for you too. And you haven't even seen my dress yet, it could look horrible."

"I don't need to see it to know you'll look gorgeous. You always do. Just like your mother. Did I ever tell you about the prom we went to?"

"Ugh…you people don't know when to stop." I say, laughing again and hitting him with a pillow. "If you can be normal, can we go get some lunch. I'm starving, and I'm sure you'd just love to buy me lunch."

"Anything for you." He says, taking my arms and pulling me off the bed. On our way out the door, I take one last look at the pictures and at the closet door, behind which, is my dress.

"Dad," I say. He turns back to look at me, "Thanks."