The Release

Chapter 1

Author's note: Welcome to the second installment of this series, if you haven't read Forbidden Passion, I would highly suggest going to read it just so this story makes a little more sense. It will contain flashbacks to an extent. I hope you all enjoy this as I was really excited to start this second story.

Circa 2004

Meredith breathed deeply, looking at the house in front of her. It looked the same as the day she had left ten year ago. She couldn't help but look at the house next door, so many memories flooded her and she wasn't sure she could handle this. This was it, this was her home. When Richard Webber called her personally to inform her she was accepted into the intern program, she had to accept. Richard was the closest thing to a father she had. It was odd, their relationship. He would still call every now and then since she left Seattle, to check on her and see how her life was going. He was the one who noticed the Alzheimer's in her mother, he was the one who called her in the middle of the night when she had broken down and tried to commit suicide when she got her diagnosis. He held her when she cried because instead of graduating collage, she was burying her mother who suffered an aneurysm in the assisted living home. He was the only one who was there when she graduated Med School and got her white coat. He was the father she never had.

She couldn't help but think of the man who lived next door to her all those years ago. Those words of his still stung true, he had caused he so much pain in a first love. She was already broken but he took the finally pieces and smashed her heart. It was the wildest thing she had ever experienced, still to this day as a twenty-eight year old woman. The two years she spent sleeping her way around Europe didn't help the matter either, it shadowed her pain. She could stop thinking of him still, every day she wondered if he had ever moved on and got married. If he ever settled down and had the kids he talked about with her. She changed the person she was, she turned from a typical teenage girl to a dark and twisty young adult in the matter of a conversation. She had never truly tried to move on from him, from the love he gave her. She knew deep down he felt just as deeply as she did but it couldn't ever work.

She looked down at her Nokia, noticing she had a missed called. Cristina, her best friend since high school. She had also moved back and started her medical career at Seattle Grace, though she was two years ahead of her. Cristina wasted no time working her way up the medical food chain, she was top of her class at Stanford and offered an internship at Seattle Grace her third year in medical school. She was head-strong and wasted no time in her life. She lived with no regrets as long as she was the best surgeon to ever live. She dialed the number back and waited for her to answer.

"Hey, did you make it in?" Cristina asked.

"I did, I'm glad you made the house a home," Meredith chuckled as there were still boxes everywhere as she walked through her childhood home. She let Cristina live their while she was finishing up Med school. She knew she would eventually make her way back to Seattle. It always felt like home in the city.

"No time for unpacking, I live and breathe this place," she laughed.

"I know, I will put stuff away," Meredith shook her head at her best friend.

"Hey after that stupid mixer tonight, wanna hit up the bar down the street?" Cristina asked.

"Is that even a question?" Meredith quickly asked.

"Right. I'll meet you here at 7," Cristina quickly hung up the phone and Meredith was left with her thoughts. She could begin to start turning this place from a box filled home to a somewhat livable habitat. It was like nothing was touch, the same furniture from when she was a teenage still filled the room. She realized the time, she had to get dressed. She climbed the stairs slowly, she could feel every bit of this house in her. She passed her old bedroom, Cristina agreed to move into the room that she once had since it was Meredith's house. She made her way to the master bedroom that occasionally was occupied by her mother. She felt the door frame, looking into the room that was empty besides the bedroom furniture and her few boxes that held her clothes. Her mother was never much of a decorator but she had a few paintings up that were now occupying the office that held all of her belongings.