A/N: Thank you everyone for the reviews, it really helps keep me motivated. I also owe a huge thanks to Waltzmatildah, my wonderful beta who I somehow forgot to mention in Chapter 1. Thanks!

Richard's POV will be coming up soon, and then I will be going overseas for a couple weeks. When I get back, I will do the final chapters, the ones I have been most looking forward to, Alex and Izzie's POV.

Miranda- Butterfly Effect

Tucker had always been a coward, Miranda thought as she closed her eyes, composing herself, slowing her breathing back to normal. It had taken five years of dating for him to actually commit to a marriage with her. More still before he was ready to have a child. He was overly cautious, concerned about finances and rushing into things and making mistakes. That was no way to live life, Miranda considered, her thoughts drifting to Izzie and Alex. Life was too short. Too short to waste with a man who didn't support her and her goals.

Miranda felt guilty as she thought it, but she began wondering why she had married Tucker in the first place. Did she love him? Yes. Of course she had. He had also been a safe person to have in her life. Not every man was willing to put their life on hold while his woman spent all her time going through school, work, advancing her career. In fact, not many men were willing to step back and let her be the breadwinner, the provider. Tucker deserved some credit for that. But if Miranda was really honest about her marriage, her relationship with Tucker, she had to admit that it was passionless. It always had been, even when they were young. It was nice, but boring.

She imagined herself in Stevens' situation. Would Tucker have asked her to marry him impulsively, on the spot, if she'd had only months to live? Would he have fought so hard for her to get a risky brain surgery, even if it was her last hope? Would he have coached her so diligently and determinedly had she lost her memory? She wasn't trying to make Tucker out to be utterly uncaring, because he wasn't. But she had to ask herself if Tucker was truly the love of her life. Was she madly in love with him? It frightened and shamed her to have to say, No.

Miranda's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by her pager. Taking a second to wipe the last tears off of her face, she heard another page go off almost immediately after hers. The Chief. She'd nearly forgotten he was standing with her, that they were both still in the middle of the scrub room. She looked down at her pager in sync with Richard. They both paused for a split second to look at each other grimly, the colour simultaneously draining from their faces.

"Stevens, 911."

As Miranda ran, she neglected to feel the ache in her tired knees, the throbbing pain in her small feet. She ran, more urgently than she ever had for any other patient. Her brain, there must have been too much stress on her brain, she thought as she raced along the hallway, following close behind the Chief. Neither spoke a word aloud until they arrived.

"What happened?"

"Is it her brain?" Miranda asked, noticing Shepherd's absence.

"No, it's hyperkalemia."

"We couldn't control the arrythmias."

"Her pressure's dropping off a cliff," Yang stated cooly.

Miranda felt her face drop, filling with dread. She knew as a doctor she wasn't supposed to question the fates and why people got sick, why good people died. She knew that all she could do was take whatever disease, whatever injury, whatever complication was handed to her and try to fix it. But as she watched the motionless form of Izzie Stevens flat on the bed, with her husband and friend trying to bring her back, she felt desperately futile. Why? Why did bad things always have to happen to good people? Innocent children died and fathers rocked their babies to sleep, never to wake up again; young, sweet boys joined the army and got shipped to war zones; bright, promising doctors got cancer and newlywed husbands lost wives.

"Give me an intubation tray," ordered Karev sharply. He wasn't going to let this go down without a fight. He wasn't going to let this go down, period.

"Alex," Mirand heard Cristina hiss. When he didn't reply, Cristina looked towards her teachers.

"She signed a DNR," she continued, beginning to display the faintest trace of emotion. She was looking for support. She was the student, and at this moment, Miranda was dreading being the teacher.

"Shut up, Yang." Alex's voice was forceful, even if it wasn't loud. He was adamant.

"Alex, this isn't what she wants."

Sometimes, Miranda hated this job. Not very often, but sometimes. Moments like these, when all felt hopeless; when she had to make decisions, when she had to decide whether or not a person lived or died, when she had to watch poor, beautiful souls be taken away. Miranda stood at the foot of the bed, completely immobilized by the desparity of it all. The monitor's alarm finally released her from the spell she'd been under.

"Get a crash cart!" ordered Karev.

Miranda had to follow the rules. A DNR was a DNR, even if it was a young life, even if it was a student, a colleague, a friend. But this black-and-white area was becoming so gray, Miranda felt herself unable to commit completely to her statement.

"Karev, if she-"

"I... look at her! Get a crash cart!"

This was too heavy for her. She couldn't be the one to let Stevens die, which is essentially what she would be doing if she refused the crash cart. She wouldn't be able to live with herself, and she would never be able to face the four people who always thought they could count on her. Miranda was grateful that the Chief was beside her, someone with more authority than her. She looked up at him expectantly, knowing that if anyone could do this, it would have to be him. She read the hesitation on his face, and her own fear grew. This was a bad, very bad.

"Screw the DNR…" he shouted finally. "… hand me those paddles."

Miranda felt the slightest bit of relief, and sprang immediately into action. They had to give this everything they had. There would be no second chances; there was no time for deliberation or consideration.

She moved Karev to a distance. She did her best to tune out his quiet sobs, growing in strength. She tried hard to ignore Stevens' familiar face as she was jerked violently off the bed, shock after shock. She willed back the tears that were threatening to break loose, even though she wasn't a crier. She held her breath as the Chief charged the paddles once more, not daring to exhale as he yelled "Clear!" She thought of the supposed 'butterfly-effect', of one flick of a butterfly's wings having a massive, powerful impact on life-altering things. She didn't want to be the butterfly that killed Izzie Stevens, so she remained absolutely still, holding her breath.