Author's note: So, I swore I would never post a work-in-progress because I don't want to risk leaving an unfinished story, but I have four stories in various stages of completion on my hard drive and I think that posting this will pressure me into writing faster and better. And I really, really want to write this story.

"Hello?" I call out as I enter the house where I grew up.

My brother stumbles in behind me, dragging our suitcases. There are still a ton of boxes in the moving truck but we'll deal with those later.

Mom appears from her study upstairs and leans over the railing, all beauty and grace in her fifty-eight years. "Are those my children? I haven't heard from them in so long I've forgotten what they sound like," she says with humor in her voice.

"Sorry we haven't called in a while. We thought we'd just show up and surprise you." Chase and I are horrible children, we know. I sent mom an email or text every week or so just to say hey or to let her know we were still alive, but we kind of just lost ourselves in college life in the Big Apple. I told her we were coming home for the summer, but I thought it would be more fun if we just showed up without telling her what day. Plus, we took the scenic route (as in, we drove across the country and even crossed the border into Canada a couple times) so we didn't know how long it would take anyway.

Actually, Chase and I were pretty sure mom and dad would be really pissed if they found out what we did – like we could have been dead in a ditch in Montreal, or something dramatic like that, and they wouldn't know because we didn't tell them where we were going – so we decided it would be best to not say anything about our trip.

Mom descends the stairs and opens her arms when she reaches the bottom. Chase and I drop our bags and go over to meet her.

She smells like she always does and I take a deep breath. I almost forgot how good it was to be home.

She loosens her grip on us and then moves us backwards a few steps so she can get a good look. She does it every time she sees us after a long absence. "You both still look like kids to me. You always will."

"Mom!" Chase rolls his eyes. I guess he has a point, because he's six feet tall and all dark and handsome (according to my friends anyway). I'm shorter and I get carded everywhere I go so I don't have much of an argument there.

"So what are you doing home, anyway? And where's dad?" I ask.

"Where else would he be?" She doesn't sound exasperated or anything. It's just a fact of life that he's not around much. Granted, she's not usually around much either. Dad's the Chief of Surgery at Seattle Grace and he's at the hospital, like, twelve hours a day, seven days a week. And mom's usually right there with him.

"Yeah, I figured, but you're home..."

"I'm actually taking some time off," she says, and Chase actually gasps out loud. "I figured this is the last summer I'll really get to see you two before you really grow up. I mean, you won't even have summers anymore after this year."

My heart melts, completely. I hug my mom again. I've been hoping to spend more time with her for forever and she's right – this is kind of our last chance. Chase and I are starting med school at Dartmouth and Harvard in September.

"We might even be able to convince dad to take a couple weeks off to go on a real vacation," she continues.

"Awesome! We should go to Italy or Greece or something." Chase has been into getting cultured lately. If I know him well, and as his twin sister I probably know him better than anyone, he's just doing it to impress the women he thinks he'll meet in med school.

"Well, we'll see what your dad says. He might not be able to get away." Still, there's no disappointment or anything in her voice. I don't know how she does it. I know I'm definitely not marrying a doctor. "Actually, I should go call him. You can take your things upstairs. I got your rooms ready last week when your exams ended. You two may be awful at communication but I can find these things out, you know," she says with a smirk and raise of her eyebrow.

She gets the phone from the kitchen and dials a familiar number. "Good afternoon, Allison. It's Meredith. Is Derek in his office?"

I grab one of my huge suitcases and start hauling it up the stairs. Mom's voice drifts from the living room. "Derek, guess who've decided to grace us with their presence?" A pause. "What? No. Julia and Chase are home." I have to smile at that. Dad might be a world-renowned neurosurgeon, but he doesn't always piece things together all that quickly.

I make it to my room and open the door. My entire apartment in New York was smaller than this bedroom. And I don't have to share a bathroom here. Why did I ever leave?

"Are you guys hungry?" Mom yells from downstairs. "We can order something in."

"No pizza!" Chase and I yell simultaneously, from our respective rooms.

"Okay. Well, what about Thai or Vietnamese?"

"Thai sounds good!" I shout.

"Yeah," Chase agrees.

"All right, I'll have your dad pick it up. He'll be home in a few hours."

Well, it's a good thing we're not starving.

After a half hour of unpacking, I go off to find my mom. I hear music (something old, like Interpol or Radiohead) coming from the den. She's taking a nap on the couch, so I turn the music down but she stirs and wakes up anyway.

"Julia. Are you hungry? There isn't much here, but we can order something in."

Um... "You already asked us that, and you said we were getting Thai. And that dad's going to bring it home."

"Oh, that's right. Sorry. I'm just tired, I guess."

"You work too much, mom," I say, moving to sit next to her on the couch.

"And soon, you will too. Are you sure you want to go to med school? I mean, I really don't want you to feel like you have to because your dad and I are doctors. Actually, we'd probably feel better if you weren't interested in medicine."

"Mom, Chase and I practically grew up at the hospital. We were raised by like, ten surgeons. You have to figure we were just going to be naturally drawn to it. Plus we have two famous doctor parents. It seems like a waste to not go."

She shakes her head and rests it on my shoulder. "Nothing you two do could ever be a waste."

I lean my head on hers. "Love you, mom."

"Love you, too," she responds. "Want to watch a movie while we wait for your dad?"

"Sure. Breakfast Club?" It's kind of our thing to watch that old movie together. It was her favorite movie when she was younger and I found it and watched it almost every day when I was thirteen and in a bit of an awkward phase.

She smiles and nods, so I get up to fiddle around with dad's ridiculous entertainment system.

A couple hours later, the movie is over and we're watching CNN and talking politics when my dad pokes his head into the den.

"Daddy!" I run over to him and get the best hug ever. He's done it since I was little, and even though he's kind of old now (not that he'd ever let anyone think it), he insists on lifting me off the ground. I'm a grown woman and everything – all 110 pounds of me – but I don't think I'll ever get tired of it.

"Hey Junebug," he says with a smile. He lets me go and keeps his arm around me while he wraps the other around mom. "How are my favorite girls doing?"

Mom gets up on her toes and places a kiss on dad's cheek. "We're vegetating. How was work?"

"It was all right. No surgeries, I just worked through my mountain of paperwork. Where's the troublemaker?"

I turn around, but not in time to brace myself for Chase's tackle.

"Dad!" he exclaims, slapping my dad on the back from my former position beside him. I examine my elbows for carpet burn. I hate my brother sometimes.

"Hey buddy, want to go fishing tomorrow morning?"

"Does that involve waking up at an obscene hour? One that I'd probably normally be going to sleep at?" Chase looks like dad, but he's more like mom with the whole morning thing.

Dad rolls his eyes. "I'll come drag you out of bed at four."

Chase pretends to drop dead and mom nudges him with her foot with a giggle. Dad looks over at her with so much adoration and I hope so hard that I can find what they have someday.

"I'm hungry," mom announces, and Chase mumbles his agreement from the floor.

"All right, I picked up all your favorites. Let's go eat," dad says, leading us out to the kitchen.

Chase sets the table and we sit down for our first family meal at home in ages. Mom and dad flew out to New York for a couple nights over Christmas and dad rented out an entire restaurant to seat our extended family. Between his sisters and their husbands, my cousins and their families, there were sixty-something blood Shepherds (I've lost track of everyone's actual last names). The whole thing just made me feel grateful for our little family in Seattle and our handful of non-blood relatives.

I'm a pro with chopsticks after four years in New York so I dive right into my Pad Thai but mom seems to be having trouble. I'm pretty sure she uses chopsticks when she has sushi, but maybe she's just out of practice.

"Want me to get you a fork, mom?" I offer.

"Uh, yeah, sure. That might be better. Thanks," she says with a sort of awkward smile.

Dad shoots her a weird look as I get up from my chair, but he doesn't say anything. Chase remains oblivious and will probably have food on his face when he looks up. Maybe I should suggest that he takes etiquette classes to go along with the whole culture thing.

"So, dad... mom said you might be able to get time off for a vacation?" I say, as I return to my seat.

"Yeah, maybe in early June, before elementary school gets out. It'll be chaos once kids get out on vacation and onto monkey bars and slippery pool decks."

"Or water skis," I add, with a glance over at Chase.

"Hey, I was in high school, then," he responds, as though that's some kind of justification.

Dad winces. "God, I'd blocked that memory out. Those hours in the waiting room were the longest of my life. I was the best neurosurgeon in a thousand mile radius and they wouldn't let me touch you."

"You were both fucking nuts." That gets me two death stares. "Pardon my French. Anyway, they had to sedate you both. It was humiliating."

"It's not their fault they love me so much, Jules," Chase declares with a shit-eating grin.

"You have sauce on your face, douchebag."

"Julia!" comes the stereo admonishment.

"Oh please, mom swears a hundred times more than I do."

The table is silent for a moment before dad bursts into laughter. "Sorry, Junebug. Any chance you had of being a classically refined lady was shot a long time ago. Between your mom and Cristina..."

"Hey!" my mom protests.

"It's true," I shrug. "But I love you anyway."

"I probably love you because of it," dad says, winking at mom. I fight the urge to regurgitate orange noodles.

Dinner goes on with Chase regaling our parents with stories of senior year and how we almost got thrown in the drunk tank one night. That kid is too honest for his own good.

Chase and I retire to our bedrooms after dinner to catch up with our friends and let them know we made it home alive. It was tough, saying goodbye to everyone. I wonder how many of them I'll keep in touch with, now that we're all spread across the country.

There's a knock at the door and I tell my mom to come in (she's the only one who would bother knocking).

"Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to the hospital tomorrow. Your aunts and uncles will want to see you, and they probably won't have time to come out here anytime too soon."

"Yeah, sure, mom!" I've missed my Seattle family, so I'm excited to see them. I figured my mom wouldn't be able to stay away from the hospital for long anyway.

She says goodnight and then leaves me to my privacy. It's been a while since I've had it, with roommates and the whole lack of space thing in New York.

I put on some music and get myself ready for bed. The music thing is a necessity for bedtime in this house, which I learned in a very unfortunate way when I was a kid. A very, very unfortunate, traumatic way. I swore I'd need therapy for it, but I guess I turned out all right. I guess I can only hope I have an active sex life when I'm my parent's age.

Oh god, vomit.

I put a pillow over my head and hope that I can force myself to pass out from oxygen deprivation before my mind wanders any further in that direction.