A/N: I have absolutely no idea where I got the idea for this particular piece, but it's something extremely new for me. I've never ever written a period piece before. Anyways, the majority of this story takes place during the Battle of the Bulge in World War II in December 1944. Since it's a period piece, I'm going to try to stay historically accurate as far as the battle is concerned. Most of the GA's characters will be in this, but they will have minor roles. Reviews make me write more, so please, tell me what you think!

Christmas 1994- Seattle, Washington

A soft snow floated down from the darkened Seattle sky. It was Christmas time again. The hustle and bustle of the city winded down on this Christmas Eve, as families went to their homes and loved ones came into the city.

Elise Jameson scraped plates over her father's kitchen sink, allowing the leftover Christmas Eve dinner to go down the drain. She glanced every once in a while to the living room, where her father, her husband, and her six-year-old son watched Alistair Sims' "A Christmas Carol." It had been a family tradition ever since she was a little girl. Her mother would hold hands tightly with her father, and her five older brothers and sisters would sandwich little Elise in the middle. It was good to see that the family tradition would carry on, even without her mother.

She grinned as her son screamed at the Ghost of Christmases Yet to Come. Little Derek always did that. Every year, the little boy named for her father would yell and jump into his grandfather's lap, hiding his face in his soft shirt. It, in itself, had become yet another Christmas tradition.

Elise put away the last dish and joined her family in the living room as the movie was ending. The last line, "He knew how to keep Christmas well," wafted through the living room.

Elise's father patted the little boy on the leg. "Your grandma always loved that movie."

Little Derek shifted around in his grandfather's lap. "How did you meet Grandma?" he asked, his big blue eyes connecting with his grandfather's.

The old man smiled at him and sat him down on the couch. He went over to the mantelpiece, took down a framed photograph, and handed it to the little boy. "We met in France, during World War II."

"What's World War II?"

The elderly man smiled at the boy again, his eyes twinkling. "It was a big war that was a long, long time ago, before you were born."

"Before Mommy was born?"

"Yep."

"Wow," he whispered, astounded.

The man gently took the picture out of its frame and turned it over. He pointed to the handwritten note on the back of it. "See, it says, 'Derek Shepherd and Meredith Grey, Christmas 1944."

"That was a long time ago," little Derek said.

Derek laughed. "It sure was. That was one of the first times I met her. See, she was a nurse, and I was a soldier. She saved my life."

"Tell me about it, Grandpa."

He laughed again and shook his head. "I think it's about time you went to bed."

"Please?" the little boy begged. He ran to his mother and hugged her tightly around the legs. "Please, Mommy?"

She thought for a moment, then smiled at her dad. "I think it's about time he heard the story."

"Yay!" he shouted happily. He climbed back into his grandfather's lap. "Tell me."

Derek laughed and held his grandson tightly. "Okay. It was about this time of year, in France. Everyone had been saying that we'd be home by Christmas, but the German's kept pushing through our lines. It was beginning to look like we'd be there for a while. It was freezing, and we didn't have enough clothes and blankets to keep us warm. There were a lot of people hurt."

Derek paused and let his mind wander sixty years back, to a night very similar, but horrifically different, than this.

December 1944—The Ardennes Forest, France

"Derek!"

At the sound of his best friend's voice, U.S. Army Sergeant Derek Shepherd whipped around, blowing on his hands to keep them warm.

Sergeant Mark Sloan ran up to him, carrying a little white medical kit. "This was all I could get off of the boys in C company."

"Damn," he muttered. He pulled up his medic's armband a little higher on his arm, careful not to cover his 101st Airborne Division patch. "I hear this is supposed to get bad."

"Yeah," his fellow medic concurred, glancing around at the men marching into what was known as the Ardennes forest. "Did you see those guys coming out?"

Derek nodded. "I hear they got the crap shelled out of them. Those Krauts must be dug in good."

Mark nodded. "Yep. Wanna get to a foxhole?"

"We'd better, in case they start shelling again."

At the nearby aid station, Lieutenant Addison Montgomery ripped apart one of the many white sheets she had in front of her. She had seen enough battle already to know that this one was going to be bad. The medical supplies were stuck somewhere in Normandy, the men didn't have enough warm clothes, and the temperature was still falling.

"Hey," a soft voice sounded behind her.

She turned to see one of her closest friends, Lieutenant Meredith Grey, standing behind her. "Hey yourself. Give me a hand, will you?"

Meredith stepped to the other side of the cot and grabbed one of the sheets. "So," she said quietly. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Addison looked up at her and sighed. "Not yet. But it will be."

"I talked to some people that just came from the hospital in England. They have a bunch there that took some heavy hits."

"Seems like it's bad all over," Addison whispered. "First Normandy, then Holland, now back in France. I wish Hitler would just say the hell with it and go on home."

Meredith glanced outside. "At least it's a white Christmas."

Addison chuckled mirthlessly as the sound of distant shelling reached their ears. "Tell that to the boys outside with no winter clothes."

Meredith ripped another bandage. "I'm just trying to remember why I signed up."

"Yeah." Addison put down the sheet and caught Meredith's eyes. "Why did you sign up?"

The younger woman sighed. "Liberty. Everyone deserves liberty." She paused. "You?"

"They wouldn't let me fight," Addison replied. "I had to get here somehow."

Meredith sighed again. "Yeah."

Soon darkness fell over the Ardennes. Nurses and medics alike stared skyward, wondering when it would all start. Hoping ardently that it was just going to be a bad dream. Realizing despondently that it wasn't. Praying desperately for daylight.