(A/N: We do not claim ownership of, nor association with, GA in any way. We're only borrowing Shonda's characters to create our happy place since she didn't leave us one.)

"Mer, I'm serious. Cut it out. I'm trying to work here."

Meredith chuckled as Alex batted away the paperclip she tossed his way. The clip fell onto the desk next to Alex's laptop computer.

"You know I have a short attention span, Alex." Meredith shifted in her chair as she reached for more paperclips. "We've been working on that scene for two freaking hours! Your female, or should I say, lack of a normal acting one, is driving me nuts! I need a break!"

Meredith knew the scene wasn't working – it stopped due to the actions of Alex's female character in the last act. Alex, in his typical "dude" manner, didn't see anything wrong with the scene, other than the glaring lack of sex. Her slim fingers toyed with another paperclip.

"You know Alex, for as much as you get around, you'd think you'd know how to write a believable female character."

Alex Karev looked up from his laptop at his writing partner of the past 10 years. Meredith Grey leaned back in her chair, resting her bare feet on the edge of the desk which sat in a corner of what used to be Thatcher Grey's cozy, sunny study. With the Pacific Ocean outside the windows, Alex could hear the waves crashing against the sandy beach. Alex still envied Meredith the Malibu bungalow she received from her dad as a college graduation gift. Thatcher's three Oscar statuettes sitting on the shelf behind Meredith glistened in the sunlight and made Alex's mouth water.

"What's wrong with Emily?"

"Coffee! I need more coffee Alex. Want some?" Meredith asked over her shoulder as she dashed towards the kitchen.

"What's wrong with Emily?" Alex yelled.

"I can't hear you!" Meredith yelled back.

Alex stretched his arms above his head, shaking the cramps from his fingers. He and Meredith had been working on the final act of their movie script "THE ANATOMY OF LOVE" since 9am that morning. It was now 3pm, with the last two hours spent on the final scene. The finished script was due to the film's producer, Mark Sloan, by 8pm that evening.

Meredith had complained that Emily's, the main character, reaction to the Hero's declaration of love was "too tits and ass" and wanted it rewritten. "Mer, get your ass back in here. We have to finish this!"

Meredith sat a large mug on the desk next to Alex. "You don't need to yell, Alex. I'm right here."

"I'm serious Mer. You can explain to Sloan why, after giving us three extra weeks, his script still isn't finish." Smirking, Alex grabbed the mug of coffee. "Better yet, explain it to Shepard."

"Sloan is a manwhore, and Shepard is an ass." Meredith muttered into her mug.

"True, but we owe them this script in…" Alex glanced at his wristwatch. "About 5 hours."

Alex noted how Meredith's blue-grey eyes still turned a stormy grey at the mention Derek Shepard's name. Even after 10 years, emotional wounds still festered.

"Ok, so where were we?" Meredith once again rested her bare feet on the desk. Leaning back in her chair and sipping the hot coffee, Meredith gave her attention back to the script. She was determined not to think about Derek Shepard.

Reaching for the remote control, Meredith turned on the small plasma screen TV sitting on the stand behind Alex. Recognizing the local news, Meredith muted the sound since Alex hated any kind of noise while he was working.

"Emily needs to do more than flash her boobs and shake her ass, Alex."

Alex raised his mug and brandished it in Meredith's direction. "She does more than that."

"No, she doesn't."

Alex grinned. He always enjoyed discussing character development and motivation with Meredith. It was so easy to push her buttons.

"Emily does more than flash 'em Mer."

"She lets him cop a feel. Wow. Big moment." Meredith rolled her eyes. "I think my dad would be telling you the same thing."

"Mer, your dad had a great appreciation for the money shot."

Meredith gestured to the statuette grouping behind her. "I think Dad's Oscars trump your interpretation of a money shot."

Turning her attention back to the TV screen, Meredith was surprised to see her father's face on it. Sitting upright, Meredith grabbed the remote, turning up the volume.

"…renowned Movie Producer Thatcher Grey died suddenly this afternoon…"

Alex spun around in his chair to face the TV. "What the hell?"

A crashing noise made Alex flip back around to Meredith. Her coffee mug slipped from her hand to the hardwood floor. She sat there in shock, staring at the image of her father on the TV screen with the years of his birth and death underneath his smiling face.

Next came an image of an adolescent Meredith with Thatcher exiting a restaurant. Meredith remembered when the photo was taken 15 years ago. During her annual summer visit with Thatcher, a photographer seemed to come out of nowhere to snap the photo. Meredith had been sick of the cameras, the flashes, the intrusion into their lives. She looked pissed off in the photo while Thatcher turned toward the camera and smiled while walking Meredith to his car.

Meredith's ringing cell phone ended the flashback.