Standing off to the side, away from the tent, he was alone. That was his story ... alone. Always alone. Always losing.

The falling drizzle didn't phase him. It helped, really, having the drops of water to meld with his tears. Hiding the pain from Meredith, Cristina, George, all the others. He didn't notice when they left, his eyes were fixed on the casket.

The dark mahogany shielded him from the woman lying inside, surrounded by pink satin. But it couldn't shield him from the feeling that his heart was broken again, this time irreparably. There would be no one else. She was it for him. And he lost ... again.

Taking a deep breath, and one last glance, he turned and looked up into the ever darkening clouds above.

"You win, Duquette. You win."

And he walked away.