Different Story | Grey's Anatomy

• Chapter 1: From the Inside •

She was sitting next to an illuminating table lamp in a dark room, with one hand supporting her heavy head and the other one holding a pen, reading through the notes. She turned the page in her mother's old diary and stared at a blank page in front of her; it was tempting. Her mother never spoke of her in these entries.

Pondering, whether she should or should not do it, Meredith held her pen next to her cheek.

My name is Meredith Grey, she thought. I am a general surgeon at Seattle Grace Hospital, married to Derek Shepherd. Together, we have a wonderful daughter named Zola. I have a half sister named Lexie, who is an intern at the same hospital.

She sighed.

"See, Ellis? It's not that hard to speak of your family," she silently whispered and looked at the ticking clock on the wall. It's not hard to speak of your family, if you love them and take care of them. No matter how tough it gets, no matter what challenges life brings, they always get through those problems.

She spun the pen between her fingers.

My friends... I have friends, mom; a bunch of them. I chose the path of becoming a surgeon to help people, and I have helped many so far. I don't know if I have ever made you proud when you were alive, or maybe I was just a disappointment, but I am proud of what I have become. I am proud of what I have achieved so far.

"Am I just hearing things, or are you actually talking to yourself?" Derek waltzed through the door; his hair was messy, eyes closing. He covered his eyes with the back of his hand, shielding them from the brightness of the lamp.

"Does it matter?" Meredith silently replied and closed the diary on the desk. Derek recognized it almost immediately.

"It does; it's three in the morning," he whispered, but Meredith could recognize the irritarion and tiredness in his tone.

"Reading your mother's journal?" he asked wih a tired, raspy voice.

"Not reading," she answered after a short pause. "I guess, I wanted to write my own entry... But, I can't do it."

Meredith picked up the journal and held it in her hands, staring at the cover. It was an old journal, some pages have already fallen out; even the paper had turned yellow on the edges. Well, it was a bit over three decades old, to be exact.

"If you want to write, you should get your own journal," Derek explained with a soothing tone and turned off the lamp. Now, the room was completely dark. "Your life and your work is not your mother's. You can't make your story her own."

He caressed his wife's cheek and took the old thing out of her hands.

"I sure hope you did not wake up our daughter," Meredith joked as she walked out of the room, following her husband back to their bedroom.

"If I did, it is your fault," Derek chuckled. "Although, she is a heavy sleeper. I wouldn't worry too much."

Together, the two walked into their bedroom and Derek stood in front of a bookshelf. He placed the old diary on the top shelf and quickly returned to their bed. Meredith sat on the soft matress, looking down at her feet.

"Do you think I will be a better mother than she was? I don't want Zola to go through hell, the way I did."

Derek looked over at his wife and placed his hand on her tense shoulder. She felt comfortable around him.

"You will do great, Meredith. Everyone knows that you already are a great mother. Don't stress."

She lied down and looked into his kind blue eyes. She knew that she could trust him. Zola and her wellbeing was their true priority now that they finally got the full custody. She was hereby their baby; Zola Grey Shepherd. Adopted or not.

"I just... Don't want to be the same mother as my own mother used to be, you know?" Meredith replied silently. "You might think I'm over reacting, but it's how I feel."

"You worry, it's reasonable," Derek was looking at his wife, supporting his head with his arm, as he was lying on his side. "But sometimes, worries are unnecessary. She is our daughter, and she has been loved ever since we first laid our eyes on her in the hospital. You are not your mother, Meredith. She should not define you and who you are. You two could not be more different as it is."

Meredith smiled after hearing her husband's supporting words. She gently pressed her lips against his and soon fell asleep in his strong, safe arms.

Her mother did not survive drowning, her mother did not have a hand in a body with a bomb in it, her mother did not watch her friend die, did not see her friend's career fall apart...

Different people, different stories. Even if they are somehow related.

Take everything from the inside and throw it all away
'cause I swear for the last time I won't trust myself with you.