a.n.-The main event in this chapter is actually based on the real life story of a little girl named Abigail that I saw on CNN.

My head found it's way to my pillow as the events of the previous twenty-four hours weighed in on my heart.

"It's not your fault, Mer. You know that, right?" Derek's eyes studied me from beneath his dark mane of hair with intense scrutiny.

"Derek…" I sighed, wiping the tear from my eye before he could see it, "here I am, the second best neuro-surgeon in the country…stuff like this shouldn't affect me, right? That's what you want me to believe? Well it does, this was…"

"A four year old little boy died on your table today, Meredith, I'm not saying it shouldn't affect you. I'm just saying that it wasn't your fault. You did the best you could."

"He reminded me of Richie," I whispered, referring to our three year old son who was sound asleep in the next room. "I can't imagine what that mother must be going through, you know? This one was harder than most, I guess."

Derek squeezed my hand as he lay in bed beside me. "I know, but that little boy today was very sick, and Richie is just fine."

I sat up in bed, pushing the blankets into a heap at my feet. "I'm going to go check on Richie again."

Derek smiled. "Don't wake him up," he cautioned.

I moved quietly down the hallway, careful to avoid any creaking floorboards that might wake my sleeping son. I cracked open the door and savored the sight of my sleeping child, one arm around his crumbly teddy bear, and the other shoving his thumb in his mouth. I tried without success to replace the image of the little boy on the table with the image of my happy healthy child. I couldn't imagine the pain of the parents, what it would feel like to have their child so suddenly taken away.

Shutting the door carefully to prevent any loud clicks, I went back down the hallway to my own room. Derek had shut off the light, but was still awake. "He's sleeping," I reported.

"I figured," Derek laughed. "You have the day off tomorrow?"

"Yeah," I answered, burrowing back under the blankets. "No surgeries scheduled until the day after. I have residents to keep an eye on my patients. I need a break."

"I'm taking tomorrow off too," he announced. "I thought that maybe we could take Richie to the pool or something, have some fun. We don't get enough time to spend all together as a family."

"Sleeping past five am is always an added plus," I pointed out. "I'm definitely sleeping in."

"I wonder if Izzie and George have off?" he thought out loud. "It might be nice to invite them too."

"I'll call her in the morning," I answered, shoving my head under the pillow. "I want to go to sleep!"

Derek's laughter followed me into dreams as I drifted off to sleep.

OooooooooooooooooooooooO

Izzie and I reclined side by side in matching tanning chairs, watching as Derek and George roughhoused with the boys in the kiddy pool. I smeared sun block over my skin as I basked in the warmth of the sun.

"This beats surgery. I mean, I never thought that was something that I would say," Izzie chuckled, "but it's been a while since I just stopped and took a moment to…What's that expression?"

"Enjoy the roses?" I offered.

"Smell the roses!" she corrected. "But yeah. I don't think we stop and smell the rose often enoug. We work too hard. We need a vacation."

I tossed her the tube of sun block. "Put this on. You know you burn."

The scent of coconuts drifted over as she lathered up her arms. "It's hard to believe Doug is going to be seven, you know? Sometimes I wonder if I miss too much, being away at work so often. He doesn't seem to mind, but I still wonder what it does to him. I think I worry too much."

"I worry too. A lot in the last day."

"I heard about the little boy. I'm really sorry, Mer. I know that made you sad."

"It's okay…I just look at Richie and it reminds me what I'm doing it for, you know? I can't believe Richie's going to be five. Are we doing the joint birthday party thing again this year? Doug really liked that last year, he thinks it the neatest thing ever that they're exactly two years apart." I tied my hair up and arranged a towel behind my head before sliding my sunglasses over my eyes.

Izzie nodded eagerly, one eye still on the boys as she replied, "We should start planning now then. We only have a couple of weeks until their birthday." Izzie pulled her own sunglasses off the top of her head and gazed out over the water.

George was trying to teach Richie to swim using Doug as an example. "You float like this, Richie." He laid on his back in the water of the tiny pool. "Like this."

Richie slapped his palm down on the water, laughing hysterically. The water was shallow enough that the little boy could stand up. Doug dog paddled around his friend, showing off amongst his father's praises.

I turned towards Izzie, just to see if she was watching, but she was already sound asleep. I let my thoughts drift away like the ripples in the water, catching Derek and George lifting Doug up and dunking him briefly under the water. They pulled Doug up sputtering and laughing as Richie kept on slapping the water with his hands and kicking his feet. "This is fun!" I heard him cry as I slipped into my own sleepy haze.

I woke with a start to the shrillness of a child screaming.

"What? What's going on? What's happening?" Izzie suddenly shot up beside me, her sunglasses shining down her nose.

It took me a minute to snap out of my sleep haze; to notice the commotion that was in the pool. Doug was screaming at the top of his lungs as Derek dove frantically under the water. Richie was nowhere in sight.

"Oh my God, Richie, where's Richie?" I flung myself out of the chair and dove into the shallow pool, pushing as fast as I could through the water.

In the seconds it took me to reach him, Derek had pulled Richie out of the water and was cradling his lifeless body in his arms. Derek stepped out of the pool, laying Richie down on the cement. He was starting CPR before I entirely registered what was happening. There was blood in the pool. A lot of blood in the pool.

George was on the phone to what I assumed to be 911. "We need an ambulance. I'm not sure what happened exactly, we were in the kiddy pool, and he fell down on his bottom, there was no cover on the drain, he got stuck, and the suction was too great, he's only four years old, you have to hurry. Please, hurry."

His words barely registered. Izzie's hand on my arm only made me turn numb, as she steered me out of the wading pool and away from the sight of my son's blood, everywhere. Derek had been right. It was different when it was my own child; very different.

I sank onto the ground beside the pool, my breath coming in short gasps. Derek and George were doing the CPR together, and Derek kept begging Richie to breathe. Izzie huddled over me protectively, her arms encircling my body to simply hold me together.

Everything was flying apart as I heard George say, "Derek, he lost too much blood. There's too much blood."

There was definitely too much blood, a little four year old boy couldn't possibly hold that much blood. My brain was buzzing, my teeth numb from the lack of breathing. "I know it's hard, Mer," Izzie whispered, "but you have to keep breathing. All you can do is keep breathing, please, Mer."

Somehow, Doug had wound up beside us, cowering behind his mother. "Mommy, is he going to be okay, is he going to be okay, Mommy? Mommy?"

The ambulance pulled up with a scream of sirens, and several paramedics came running through the gates. There were so many people crowded around my son, I couldn't see him anymore, and I couldn't stand it. I buried my head in Izzie's shoulder, so short of breath that everything was numb.

The paramedics were calling out vitals, putting different things into my son, trying to get him stable. They were trying to make him live again, and I knew that, but it didn't make it easier.

Derek was kneeling on the ground in front of me, and I peered out at him from under my hair. He was bawling, and Derek never cried. The paramedics were stripping off their gloves and putting their things away. Someone covered Richie up with a blanket. All the while, Derek kept repeating, "Oh my God, he's gone, Mer, he's gone."