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Baby ?

The Residual Glow of Macaroni and Highlighters

The morning after Meredith Grey’s brief stint as the hospital’s most adorable medical anomaly began with a headache that felt remarkably like a hangover, though without any of the fun that usually preceded one. Meredith sat on a gurney in an exam room, swinging her legs and watching Bailey look over her vitals with a gaze that was fifty percent professional concern and fifty percent "I’m still mad you turned into a toddler on my watch."

"BP is normal. Heart rate is steady. Pupils are reactive," Bailey muttered, clicking her pen. "You appear to be a fully grown, dark-and-twisty surgical intern again, Grey. Congratulations."

"I don't remember much," Meredith admitted, her voice still a bit scratchy. "Just... flashes. Everything was very tall. And everyone was very loud. Except for..."

She trailed off, her mind conjuring the image of vibrant red hair and the scent of expensive perfume. The memory was warm, like a soft blanket.

"Except for Addison," Cristina finished for her, stepping into the room with two cups of sludge-like cafeteria coffee. She handed one to Meredith with a look of profound judgment. "You were obsessed with her. You followed her around like a duckling. You told Derek he had too much hair—which, to be fair, was the most honest thing you’ve ever said—and then you basically declared Addison your new favorite person."

Meredith groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I did not."

"You did," Alex chimed in, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. "You called her 'Addy.' You ate mac and cheese off her plate. You even told Mark Sloan he was a bad boy. Honestly, it was the best day of my life. I’ve never seen Sloan look so offended by someone under four feet tall."

"It was a medical crisis, Karev! Stop enjoying it," Bailey snapped, though there was a twinkle in her eye. "Grey, you’re cleared for light duty. No OR today. I want you on charts and floor rounds. And for heaven’s sake, stay away from whatever weird chemical or cosmic rift caused that. I don't have the patience to potty train an intern twice in one week."

As the group dispersed, Meredith felt the weight of the hospital’s collective gaze. It wasn't just the interns; the nurses were whispering, and even the janitorial staff seemed to be stifling giggles as she passed. She felt like a specimen under a microscope.

She was halfway through a stack of charts at the nurse’s station when a shadow fell over her. She looked up, expecting Derek and his "McDreamy" eyes full of tortured longing. Instead, she found herself looking at the crisp, white lab coat of Addison Forbes Montgomery.

The air between them usually crackled with a very specific kind of tension—the kind that came from being the wife and the mistress of the same man. But today, the tension was different. It was softer.

"How are you feeling, Meredith?" Addison asked. Her voice was professional, but her eyes were searching Meredith’s face with a gentleness that felt dangerously close to affection.

"I’m... fine. Mostly embarrassed," Meredith said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I’m told I was a lot to handle."

Addison smiled, and for a second, Meredith saw the woman who had spent the previous day coloring with highlighters. "Actually, you were the easiest patient I’ve had all month. You’re much more compliant when you’re three."

"I’m sorry if I... you know. Clung to you," Meredith said, looking down at the chart in her hands. "I don't know why I did that."

Addison stepped a bit closer, lowering her voice so the nearby nurses couldn't overhear. "Don't apologize. It was nice to be the 'safe' person for once. Usually, in this hospital, I’m the villain who showed up to ruin the fairy tale."

Meredith looked up, meeting Addison’s gaze. "You’re not a villain, Addison."

"Tell that to the rest of the staff," Addison sighed, though she didn't look truly upset. She reached out, her hand hovering near Meredith’s arm for a second before she pulled it back. "If you need a break from the 'Baby Grey' jokes, my office is a toddler-free zone. Mostly."

As Addison walked away, Meredith found herself staring at the woman’s retreating back. She felt a strange tug in her chest—a residual instinct from the day before. Her inner three-year-old was still whispering that *Addy* was the one who made the world feel quiet.

"Oh, look at that," a voice drawled.

Meredith turned to see Mark Sloan leaning against a gurney, looking entirely too handsome and entirely too smug.

"The tiny terror is back to her adult size," Mark said, his eyes scanning her up and down. "Though I think I preferred you when you were calling me a bad boy. It had a certain honesty to it."

"Go away, Mark," Meredith muttered, though she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

"I’m just saying, Grey, you’ve got excellent taste. You rejected the hair and went straight for the best-looking person in the building. Even as a toddler, you’re a genius."

"She didn't choose you, Mark," George O’Malley said, scurrying past with a tray of labs. "She chose Addison. She actually liked Addison."

Mark’s smirk widened. "Exactly. Like I said—excellent taste."

The day continued in a blur of sarcasm and suppressed laughter. In the cafeteria, Izzie and George were practically vibrating with the need to talk about it.

"The way you hugged her knees," Izzie sighed, clutching a sandwich. "It was like something out of a movie. You were so small, and she looked so... maternal? No, that’s not the word. It was like you two were a team."

"We were not a team," Meredith insisted, stabbing a fry into a puddle of ketchup. "I was a victim of a biological fluke."

"You were a cute victim," George added. "Callie and Arizona are still talking about it. Arizona wants to know if you can come back to Peds, but only if you stay that size because you 'fit the aesthetic.'"

"I’m right here," Meredith reminded them. "I can hear you."

"Yeah, but you’re not as intimidating when we know you like juice boxes with the straw bent just right," Alex yelled from the next table over.

Meredith was about to retort when she saw Derek walking toward her. Her heart did the usual skip-thud, but it was followed by a wave of exhaustion. Derek looked like he hadn't slept. He looked like he wanted to have a "moment."

"Meredith," he said, stopping at their table. The interns suddenly became very interested in their food, though their ears were practically twitching. "Can we talk?"

Meredith sighed and stood up. She followed him to a quiet corner near the vending machines.

"I wanted to check on you," Derek said, his voice low and intimate. "Yesterday was... it was hard. Seeing you like that, and not being able to help. Not being the one you wanted."

Meredith looked at him, and for the first time, she saw exactly what Addison had described the night before. He was looking at her, but he was talking about himself. His hurt, his longing, his exclusion.

"Derek, I was three," Meredith said gently. "I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings. I was just... I was just a kid."

"I know, but... Addison? Why her?"

"Maybe because she didn't look at me like I was a problem to be solved," Meredith said, echoing the thoughts that had been swirling in her head. "She just let me be. She gave me a highlighter and a place to sit. She didn't ask anything of me."

Derek looked like he wanted to argue, but the pager on his hip went off. He looked at it, then back at her, his expression torn. "We’ll talk later?"

"Sure, Derek. Later."

As he walked away, Meredith felt a sense of relief rather than the usual pang of loss. She turned to head back to the pits, but she found herself taking a detour toward the OB wing.

She told herself she was just checking the census. She told herself she was being a diligent intern. But when she saw Addison standing at the nursery window, looking at the rows of newborns, Meredith knew why she was there.

She walked up and stood beside Addison. For a long time, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the faint, rhythmic beeping of monitors and the distant cry of a baby.

"They're so quiet when they're sleeping," Meredith said eventually.

"It’s the only time they’re not demanding something from you," Addison replied, not taking her eyes off the glass. "Adults are the same way, really. We’re just better at hiding the demands behind words."

Meredith looked at Addison’s profile—the sharp line of her jaw, the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. "I remember the smell," Meredith said softly.

Addison finally turned to look at her. "The smell?"

"The perfume. And the flowers," Meredith said. "When I was... small. It made me feel like nothing bad could happen. So, thank you. For being the 'safe' person."

Addison’s professional mask cracked, just for a second, revealing a vulnerability that made Meredith’s breath hitch. "You’re welcome, Meredith. Although, I should warn you, I’m billing you for the highlighter you ruined on my lab coat."

Meredith laughed, a genuine, bright sound that drew the attention of a passing nurse. "Put it on my tab."

Just then, the elevator doors opened, and a whirlwind of energy stepped out. It was Maggie and Amelia, looking like they were on a mission.

"There she is!" Maggie cried, rushing over. "The miracle child!"

"We heard you were back to normal," Amelia said, looking Meredith up and down with a grin. "Boring. I liked the version that told Derek his hair was weird. Can we bring her back? Just for the holidays?"

"Amelia, leave the poor woman alone," Addison chided, though she was smiling.

"Oh, come on, Addy," Amelia teased, slinging an arm around Addison’s shoulder. "We all saw you. You were loving it. You had a little mini-Me with blonde hair following you around. It was like a trial run for the Forbes Montgomery dynasty."

Addison rolled her eyes, but she didn't pull away. "It was a medical anomaly, Amelia. Nothing more."

"Right," Maggie said, leaning in toward Meredith. "But seriously, Mer, what was it like? Did you feel small? Or did the world just feel big?"

"Everything felt big," Meredith said, glancing at Addison. "But it wasn't scary. Not the whole time."

The group stood there for a moment—the sisters, the ex-wife, and the woman at the center of it all. It was a strange, fractured family, held together by the bizarre gravity of Seattle Grace.

"Well," Callie Torres said, appearing from around the corner with a chart in hand. "Since everyone is gathered here, does this mean the 'Baby Grey' fan club is officially in session? Because I have thoughts on the wardrobe. That pink sweater was a choice, Stevens."

"I thought she looked cute!" Izzie shouted from down the hall, having apparently been eavesdropping.

"She looked like a highlighter!" Alex yelled back.

Meredith shook her head, a smile firmly planted on her face. "I'm going back to work. Before Bailey decides to put me in a playpen."

As she started to walk away, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Addison.

"Meredith," Addison said quietly. "If you ever... if the world starts feeling too big again. You don't have to be three years old to find a quiet place to sit."

Meredith felt a warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with magic or hormones. "I'll remember that."

She walked back toward the surgical floor, the sound of her friends' bickering fading behind her. She still had a mountain of charts to do, her head still throbbed slightly, and she was fairly certain she would be the butt of every joke for the next three years.

But as she passed a mirror in the hallway, she didn't see the "dark and twisty" intern who was drowning in a love triangle. She saw a woman who had been reminded of what it felt like to be safe.

And for the first time in a long time, Meredith Grey thought that maybe, just maybe, she didn't need a McDreamy to feel whole. Sometimes, all you needed was a highlighter, some mac and cheese, and a world-class neonatal surgeon who knew how to hold your hand when the world got too loud.

"Grey!" Bailey's voice boomed from the nurse's station. "Are those charts done, or do I need to get you a nap mat?"

"Coming, Dr. Bailey!" Meredith called back, breaking into a run.

She was back to being an adult, back to the blood and the stress and the chaos. But as she grabbed a pen to start her work, she noticed a faint, neon-pink smudge on the back of her hand.

She didn't wash it off.