As ever, I don't own a thing, etc.

This is an entirely different fic from my other one. It takes place sometime after Derek moves into the house, Alex and Izzie aren't really together, and Addison makes a guest appearance to Seattle . . .

Chapter 1: Izzie

She didn't know how it happened, but it had happened.

She didn't know why it happened, but it had happened.

She wished it didn't happen, but it did.

No matter how she thought about it, the sinking realization hit her each time. It had happened.

How could she ever justify this? Was it a trend she had with men? Denny, Alex, and George were the only names every on repeat in her sad personal life, until now.

Because what had happened now, made her previous escapades make her look angelic . . . and she was by no means angelic.

She let her shoulders sink with the weight of what she had done. She couldn't blame alcohol or any other intoxicating substance. They were both quite sober.

Only they were drunk in the sense of moping about their sad love lives.

And so, she was here in Joe's, drowning in her misery at the bar when she saw him come in. She caught her breath at the sight of him.

She felt her shoulder sink further at the thought of knowing that kind of man would never be hers, because he was not hers to have.

He didn't seem to notice her, and yet, all she could feel was the way his fingers had trailed up her back the night before. Her spine began to tingle as yesterday's tryst outlined her mind.

She blamed him. He started it. He had kissed her with such ferocity … okay, well, she now blamed herself because she loved the feeling of being wanted and she should have pushed him away. After all, he's off limits.

It had happened. A temporary lapse in judgment was all the explanation needed, right? But the thing is, she loved the feeling of being needed. She was tired of always chasing after others, and this time, she wasn't the one doing the chasing.

After all, he started it . . . so that must mean he had felt something for her. How odd is it that after all this time, he chose now to make his move?

She took another sip of her drink, bringing her closer to an inebriation that hadn't always gotten her into the best of situations. She eyed him as he brushed the snow off his coat (and from the back she had dug her fingers into last night) and unwound his scarf (from the neck she had grasped onto while they kissed).

She suddenly found that even though she had noticed his boyish charm and infectious smile, she never realized that he was a possibility for her, and now it was too late. That was her luck – always too late.

She was really trying to beat herself up, but all she could think about was the way his fingers trailed up her thighs . . . the way he kissed her between her breasts . . . and the way he moaned her name into her hair as he entered her.

Is there a possibility of having sex with such an intensity that it's not meaningless . . . that it means something more . . . that she wasn't a substitution for someone else?

He started it. He caught sight of her pausing at the corner after she realized that he was arguing with his one and only love. Her heart beat jumped because what he said was so right and poetic, and she wished someone would say those things to her. However, the object of his affection walked away, and he just wanted to be wanted . . . like her.

She was still eyeing him (discreetly, of course). She knew she should look away because if someone caught her – well, this hospital does thrive on gossip after all.

Is it possible that after such a sudden and brief closeness, that she could feel so alive and connected to him?

Should she tell him? No, they had been avoiding each other all day as if God would send his thunderbolt down at them soon enough.

But he had started it, so he must have felt something?

But in her heart, she knew that even if he had started it, he would end it. He wasn't hers (and never would be). And she knew better. She had ruined her career, her relationship, and a marriage once before. She knew better. If she felt anything, she would have to kill it now, because it would ruin everything. After all, if things were to go back to normal, they should act like nothing ever happened.

She looked at him again. She felt as if it was eternity, when in fact, it was only a few seconds. She was mostly looking for a sign . . . for some hope that he might have felt something . . . that there was a way they could work things out. Nonetheless, she knew better.

Finally, he began to scan the crowd. He passed over her like she didn't even exist. He found what he was looking for, and then, he walked over to a booth to sit beside the woman he belonged to, and began to make an attempt to work things out. He never even gave a backward glance to the hopeful girl sitting at the bar watching him.

She turned back into her drink and scoffed as she took a sip. She had her answer. Whatever she had been thinking, was now to be forgotten. Nothing happened between them, and she should now continue on with bettering her existence, at least in the educational front.

She gulped down the rest of her drink (and choked back her tears), and thought about how she should forget as she pulled on her coat. She then left Joe's, holding on to her dignity and trying not to do anything that would betray the affair she just had.

She would act like nothing happened for him (for his relationship to work out and she did believe in happy endings), for the love of his life (for her friendship), and mostly for herself (to keep her from getting hurt again). She would certainly act like nothing happened . . .

However, she would never know that the second she had turned to look down at her drink, he looked up to watch her. She would never know that the second she turned to leave, Derek Shepherd finally gave her the look that he had wanted to earlier.