You think you're in love with him. You know you shouldn't be – you're doctors, and it's unprofessional, and he's married, and you… you just can't be in love with him. It's not right. But you can't deny it. Not anymore.

You've tried, for a long time, to deny it. You can't believe that you couldn't stop yourself from loving him. What with his wife, and your husband, and Meredith, it's not possible. But it's happened. And you can't change it.

And then comes the day that you realize you don't want to change it. It's a normal day, nothing special, nothing too difficult, you think, but then one of your patients dies out of nowhere. And you're upset, and you're going over the surgery again and again in your mind, sitting in the stairwell alone, when he comes in. At first he doesn't say anything, he just sits with you, his arm around your shoulders, and you love every moment of it. But then he says your name, and you look at him, and you start to cry, and then, all of a sudden, he's kissing you. And you're kissing him back.

Some part of you knows this is wrong, that you shouldn't do this, but you don't care. You don't care. And suddenly, the thought makes you laugh. And you pull away, laughing. And he looks at you, confused, as you try to explain. You don't really believe that he understands, but he listens. And that's enough.

Because, what you realized, in that one moment, was that it's over. Thatcher's been trying, and you've been trying, but it's not enough anymore. And you're sick of trying with Thatcher, and you're done. You realize that it probably won't be right away, or maybe even within a year, but it will end. And you're ready.

From that point on, you have fun. It's new, and exciting, and you fall more in love with him every day. You spend less time at home, and more at the hospital, with him. The downside is Meredith. You see less of her, and one day she asks you why you don't love her anymore. Your heart breaks a little and you cry later, when she can't see you. But you come up with a solution, and you start bringing Meredith to the hospital sometimes when you have time and she's interested. She loves the hospital. She wants to wear your scrub caps, and her new favorite thing to do is play hospital.

You introduce your daughter to him.

He falls in love with the little girl right away. She has him wrapped around her finger. She sits on his lap and asks him serious questions about surgery and medicine. The sight is ridiculous, the tiny blond figure asking the doctor about his surgeries for the day, struggling to understand the medical terms. But it makes you happy.

Her face lights up when he wishes her happy birthday, hugs her, teases her, and tickles her.

And the relationship goes farther, and you hadn't thought it was possible, but you are more in love with him.

One day, Thatcher finds out. You don't know how, and you will never learn, but the result is that Thatcher leaves you. And you're surprised to find out that it doesn't really matter to you. You are most worried about the effect it will have on Meredith. She cries, but he holds her while she cries, and eventually she stops crying. And he looks at you, and you know that he knows that the two of you have choices to make.

That night, you ask him to leave his wife.

He is quiet for a while, and then he says he will. He tells you that he will leave her, and then he will propose to you. And you are amazingly happy.

But it doesn't happen. He tells you he can't do it. He can't leave her. He doesn't love you enough.

Somehow, you pull it together and go on. You avoid him as much as you can. And you just go on.

Meredith doesn't understand. She asks, in her innocent little-girl voice, what happened to him. You snap, and you yell at her. You become distant. You can't stand to play with her, to hug her, to love her anymore. Not when everything you do with her brings back sharp, painful memories of him. Of him, playing with her, hugging her, and loving her. As soon as you can, you transfer away from the hospital, away from him, and Meredith doesn't understand that either.

You grow cold, but it's all you can do to keep working. But, slowly, working becomes all you do. You throw yourself into it to keep back the memories. Meredith grows up before you realize it, becoming a pink-haired teenager before you know she's older than seven years. You can't connect with her. You try, once, and she looks at you like you're crazy before rolling her eyes and stomping out of the house.

You don't think she remembers him. She's never asked, although you admit, privately, that you haven't exactly made yourself available to questions about the past.

You wonder if when she starts at Seattle Grace, she will remember. You don't think she would tell you if she did.

You wonder what will be the first things you forget.

You wonder what could have happened if he had left Adele. Visions dance before your eyes, a happy smiling, little girl who has a father again, maybe another child, and, most of all, happiness. Pure happiness.

You wonder.


A/N: Questions, comments, critique? You know what to do. (In case you don't, that's R-E-V-I-E-W.)