Hey guys! I hope everyone's having a good weekend and hopefully being productive (unlike me, I've spent the better part of the last two and a half hours sitting up here working on this.) I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Thank you very much for the reviews I've been getting, they mean so much to me!

There are two things I feel I should explain about this chapter: The first little blurb is basically a hundred percent fluff, with Meredith, Lucy and a smidge of Derek. I have no idea why I put that in there, because these are all supposed to be Izzie's memories, not random snippets of adorable-ness, but I just really felt like sticking the three Shepards in here! Secondly, there is also a little thing about Izzie's wedding dress. I had NO idea how I should describe it, so I left most up to the imagination; I'm fourteen and I'm not very well experienced in wedding dresses, so I didn't know what looked good!

Sorry for the long author's note. Enjoy!

"Mommy," Lucy sighed, "nobody's buyin' our lemonade."

"I told you, sweetie," Meredith said gently. "People don't like lemonade when it's raining."

Today had been Meredith's day off, and she had promised Lucy they would do whatever she wanted. At four years old, she was well adapted to handing her Mommy over to the hospital, regardless of birthdays, holidays or soccer games. Today was going to be all about them. Meredith had thought maybe they could watch a couple of Disney movies, and then bake cookies, or something. When Lucy had suggested they make lemonade, Meredith had pointed out the rain, but Lucy was not to be discouraged.

So, now they were sitting, Lucy wearing her red raincoat, her rainbow rainboots and holding a tiny umbrella over her head, while Meredith huddled under her blue Maid of the Mist coat, from two years ago when they all took a weekend trip to Niagara Falls.

Meredith could not believe she had turned into this kind of person, who was guilt tripped into doing ridiculous things with her daughter, because work did not permit her to do normal things with her daughter. Essentially, she was whipped for her four year old. Meredith knew Cristina would be slightly disgusted at Meredith, but that was only because she was only six months pregnant and not yet dealing with a child that insisted on having a lemonade stand in the middle of a rainstorm.

After a while, beads of sweat were starting to gather on Lucy's lip, and her elbow, which was propping up her chin, had already slid around the table so much that it knocked over three Dixie cups full of lemonade. "Luce. You wanna go inside?"

"Nah," Lucy shook her head. She took off her rain coat.

"You're gonna get wet."

"Nah," she said again, all but poking Meredith's eye out with the umbrella, as she waved it around in the air. "I've got my umbrella. Mommy."

"What is it baby?"

"You wanna dance in the rain?" Lucy scratched at one of her chubby cheeks, scrunching up her nose.

Meredith considered. She knew she should probably say no. She should probably say, "Lucy, that's ridiculous. We're going to have to wash all our clothes, and we'll be all soaking." But the logical part of her brain was not working in accordance with the motherly part of her brain.

Lucy shook the tiny Tupperware container, which held the damp five dollar bill Derek had put in before leaving for work, and the quarter that an old lady had thrown in, as she walked past with her dog. "Mommy?"

"You know what honey?"

Lucy pouted, as though she could guess what was coming. "What?"

"That sounds awesome."

A big grin spread over Lucy's face, bringing out her dimples. "Really!"

"Yeah. Why not!"

Meredith shimmied out of the blue plastic and folded down the umbrella. Her and Lucy both had matching rainboots, from last year at that American Girl store in New York City. Lucy and Meredith had gone down with Izzie, on a Special Girl's Weekend. Meredith had taken Lucy to the store and Meredith, who had never been one for dolls, had gone slightly overboard on the whole thing.

Meredith held out her hand, which Lucy took, and the two of them ran onto the middle of the road. The rain pounded onto the concrete, making tiny little pitter pat noises. And the two of them danced. They danced around in circles, they waved their hands and stomped their feet. Both of them were laughing, hard and loud, making faces at each other and the sky, and the neighbours, who looked on from their window, in a concerned way, as though 'that Meredith Grey had finally lost it.'

They danced like that, until they were out of breath, and Derek pulled into the driveway. Most days he came home from work on his lunch break. Sometimes, (okay, most of the time) he brought Lucy Gummi Worms or Smarties, or a tiny stuffed animal he'd picked up. Sometimes, (okay, most of the time) he brought Meredith flowers, or chocolate. Today, he came home empty handed, but had a smile on his face.

"My two favourite girls," he said, smiling broadly. "Finally gone crazy."

"DADDY!" Lucy cried. She ran into his open arms. He made a face at her squriming wet body, and carried her into the house, all the while proclaiming how he would throw her to live with the dogs, because she was so wet.

"What are you two doing?"

"Well," Lucy said, "we were gonna have a lemonade stand. We did, only except nobody came 'cause it was rainin' so I said, Mommy, do you wanna dance in the rain, and she said yes. So we did."

Derek smiled. "You two are something."

"We gotta get you in the bath," Meredith said, picking Lucy up. "Before you get a cold."

"Mommy," Lucy sighed, "you don't get colds from bein' wet! Aunt Cristina told me that last week, and she's a doctor. So she knows."

Meredith smiled and kissed Lucy's round nose. She loved it that Lucy didn't see Meredith as a doctor. She saw Cristina as a doctor, but she saw Meredith as a Mommy, and Derek as a Daddy. Sometimes, for bedtime stories, or after long surgeries, Lucy would absent mindedly twirl a strand of Meredith's hair, or stroke Derek's stubbled chin, and ask them, in a vauge voice, about their day. "Did you have to pull anybody's arm off, Mommy?" or "Fix any brains today Daddy?" But her interest normally weaned after a few minutes, and then she moved on to stories of Barbies or princesses.

And in some odd way, it gave Meredith a heightened sense of normality. As a doctor, they were often thought of as gods. Because if you can't trust a doctor, if you can't look at a doctor and think they can fix all of life's problems, then who, exactly, can you trust? People got the wrong image, that doctors are untouchable. But when your four year old forgot that you were a doctor, and just acknowledged you as Mommy, you know everything is okay.

And that you are still human.

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Izzie and Alex were lying on the hammock on the deck. Izzie's head was tucked into the crook of Alex's arm. She was holding up a bridal magazine, not really looking at it. Alex's eyes were half closed, his chin resting on Izzie's head. He'd just scrubbed in on a coronary artery bypass grafting, and it felt good to lie out on the sun with his feyonce, and feel the sun on his feet.

"Hey," Izzie poked Alex. "You wanna do something?"

"Hm?" Alex groaned sleepily.

Izzie propped herself up on her elbow. "Go for a walk, or something?"

"Iz," Alex laughed. His eyes were still closed. "I'm relaxing."

"Well, I'm bored," she bounced her knees on the fabric of the hammock. Alex opened one eye.

"You're high maintenance." he told her.

She stuck out her tongue. "I've been home all day. I'm sick of being by myself."

"You're not by yourself," he said pointedly. "I'm here."

"You're just lying there." she bounced around some more, wiggling her toes.

"You're gonna tip me," he warned.

"I know."

"Don't tip me."

"We'll see." She sat up, and then jumped off the hammock. She pushed it gently. "Just relax," she said, in her quietest voice. "I'll just push you."

He yawned. "Sure."

She pushed the edges of the hammock gently, until Alex's breathing was just getting to be deep and even. Then, carefully, she gripped onto the middle of the hammock, pulled it towards her, and then flipped it around. Alex's eyes flew open, and he sailed off, skidding onto the wooden deck.

"Jesus Iz!" he yelled.

She laughed. "Sorry," she shrugged, innocently. "Wind." For a second, she was worried he was legitimately pissed, but then he stepped around the hammock, flexing his fingers.

"You're gonna pay for that one," he assured her. "I'll tickle you until you wish you'd never been born."

"No!" she cried, not actually making a valiant effort to run from him. "Don't! I hate the Tickle Monster!"

"What the hell," Alex laughed, "is the Tickle Monster?"

Izzie's mouth dropped open. "You had a deprived childhood. Nobody ever tried to torture you with the Tickle Monster?" He was beside her now, his head tilted slightly to the right.

"Yes," he said, smiling. "I was kidding. You're mine now." He wrapped his arms around her waist, tickling her until she couldn't breathe anymore.

"Stop!" she pounded her tiny fists into his arms. "Stop!" she gasped.

"Only," he tickled her under the chin, "only if you apologize for flipping me off."

She smiled, waving her finger in front of his face. "Flipping you off what?"

"The hammock!"

"Oh. Right. That," she said, faintly, as though it was a memory from a few years ago. "Sorry."

"I don't believe you. You're not convincing."

She wiggled out of his reach, and dropped to her knees. "Alex," she said, taking his hand, "I offer you my.. my most sincere apologies for flipping you off. The hammock. Will you ever forgive me?"

He shrugged, and then kissed her nose. "We'll see. You might have to make it up to me first," he said, helping her up.

"How?" she rolled her eyes. She knew what was coming.

"How much time do we have?" he asked.

She checked her watch. "Long enough to do what it is you're after. My grandma told me," she said, leading him into the house, "that was the only thing boys were ever after."

"What?" he said. "Spending quality time with their feyonce?"

She slapped him. "Idiot."

"Love you too."

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Cristina made faces at herself in the mirror, tugging on her dress. "God," she said, "this is disgusting."

"I hear you!" Izzie trilled from the change room.

"I don't care! Izzie, you can't make me wear this. I look like I am going to explode!"

"Cristina!" Izzie yelled. "Seriously! My wedding is in seven months! By that time, guess what! You're not going to be PREGNANT anymore! You'll fit into the dress."

"Maybe," Cristina said thoughtfully, "I'll just get postpartum depression and kill myself."

Meredith smiled. Her and Izzie had already picked Meredith's maid of honour dress earlier that morning, and Cristina and Lexie were now looking for bridesmaids dresses, while Izzie looked in desperation for her a wedding dress.

"Izzie," Lexie said uncertainly, from inside her change room, "maybe.. Cristina's right? I mean, not like about the killing herself part. But.. who knows how much she's going to.." Lexie bit her lip. "Sorry," she said. "Nevermind."

"What, Lex?" Izzie asked, smiling.

"I mean. You know there are some people that bounce back like that," she said, snapping her fingers, "from pregnancy and from gaining weight and stuff.. but then some people just, don't. Like you see those celebrities that weigh a lot after they're pregnant, and some that look great. So. You just.. you might not know what she'll look like. If the dress will.. fit."

Cristina threw her shoe over the changeroom wall and into Lexie's. It hit her in the head.

"Ow." Lexie said, throwing the shoe back.

"Hey. Come out," Izzie said. "I want you guys to all see this one together. It.. it might be the one."

"I'm half naked," Cristina muttered. "This dress won't zip up over my boobs."

Lexie threw her sweater over the wall, to Cristina. "There," she said. "Cover yourself up and for god's sakes, stop complaining."

The two of them stumbled out of the change rooms. Cristina sank down next to Meredith. "Ah," she said. "Cushy fabric."

"Now," Izzie instructed. "Close your eyes."

She stepped out. "Open."

"Iz," Meredith shook her head. "I.."

"You.." Lexie stuttered. "It's..."

"Is it.. it is bad?" Izzie asked.

"No," Meredith stood up. "You.. it's beautiful."

"Really?" Izzie's face broke into a smile.

"Yes!" Meredith said. "My god." she hugged Izzie and then pulled away to examine her.

The dress was white as snow and strapless. It clung to Izzie in all the right places and flowed out at the bottom. The fabric was light and silk like, ruffled ever so slightly at the top.

"I hate you," Cristina groaned. "You're too damn pretty to be alive."

Lexie stared on, in slight awe. "You're.. you're so pretty," she said, laughing a little at the end.

Izzie smiled at Lexie. "How much?" she said, wincing. "Do I even want to know?"

Meredith dug for the price tag. "Yikes. It's one fifty."

"Hundred?" Izzie asked hopefully.

"Thousand," Meredith sighed.

"Shit," Izzie bit down hard on her lip. "Alex said our budge was five hundred. Absolute limit," she rolled her eyes. "I guess.. I guess not, then?"

Meredith got her purse.

"No," she said. "Mere, it's okay. I'll put it back."

"Izzie. This dress is calling your name. You've gotta get it. I'll pay two fity."

Izzie shook her head. "No. Really. It's-"

"Iz. I don't wanna hear it. Lexie?"

"Meredith! Lexie.. don't listen to her, you seriously don't have to-"

Lexie opened her wallet and took out her Visa. "Two fifty?" she asked. "I've got that."

Cristina threw a fifty at Izzie's general direction. "I'm living for two," she said.

"You guys," Izzie rubbed the bridge of her nose. "It's.. I can't. Meredith.. I.. it's.."

"Iz. You've got to. You're on the the budget, or whatever."

"I'll pay you back," she promised, rubbing under her eyes to scare away hte tears. "I swear. Every single dollar."

"It's your wedding present," Cristina said.

"Cristina!" Meredith laughed. "Fifty dollars is your wedding present to Izzie?"

"Living for two," she sang.

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Izzie thinks now, of the wedding dress, and how now, that one thousand and fifty dollar dress is somewhere in Paris, because that's who bought it off of eBay. She can remember putting it up for sale, After Alex. She remembers Meredith sitting next to her, holding her hand when the newly engaged twenty four year old named Gabrielle bought it.

Merci beaucoup! J'adore cette robe!

Gabrielle

That was what the email had said. Izzie had not the heart to tell Gabrielle (who was getting married to Fabien) that the dress was cursed. It gave happy memories, but not enough. Not the lifetime they had been promised in that church, not the lifetime the movies and TV shows had promised them. Not the lifetime she had promised herself. She did not have the heart to tell Gabrielle that the last woman to wear that dress is now a widow, and is now alone, with her autistic son.

Izzie thinks maybe it's too hard. Maybe she should just stop right now, remember the hammock, the cool of the air conditioner in the dress shop, the feeling of it in the bag as she brought it home, the look on Alex's face when she told him the price, then the sigh of relief that came when she told him that Meredith, Lexie and Cristina had covered half.

She wants to remember the good things. They are easy to remember. They are lighthearted and fun, if not a little bittersweet. There were more good than bad, yet the bad takes ten times more of her strength than remembering the good things. These memories do not make Izzie want to cry and break things and run away.

But when her and Alex were married, they made that vow. 'In hardship and in ease, in joy and sorrow, so long as you both shall live.' And so, for Alex, she will go on. She will remembered the sorrow and the hardships.

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Alex was taking a shower upstairs, and she was calling to invite her mother to their wedding. It was, after all, in six and a half months. Izzie kept trying to put it off, she kept buying groceries instead of picking up the phone, or painting her nails instead of dialing the number. But that morning, over waffles and eggs, Alex had told her. He said, "Izzie, you've gotta call your mom."

And so now, she was. She stood up, because she was a little too nervous to sit down. She held the phone, switching it back and forth between her hands, before finally, shakily dialing her mom's number. A part of her hoped that her mom had moved and the number no longer worked, or maybe they had turned off her phone (which happened a lot while Izzie lived there.) But after only three rings, Ronnie picked up.

"Hello?"

Izzie licked her lips. "Hi."

"Sorry. Who is this?"

"It's me. I mean. It's Izzie. Cricket," she clarified, grasping now for words, any words, it didn't much matter what they were. "Your daughter!" she finally settled on.

Ronnie was silent for a minute. "Isobel?" Ronnie was the only one that usually called her Isobel, instead of Izzie.

"Yeah," Izzie nodded.

"Holy shit."

Izzie smiled. Her mom was never one for tactfulness.

"Are you serious? Cricket, sweetheart, that's really you?"

"Yeah," Izzie said, softly. "It's really me."

"I.. I never thought I'd hear from you again."

Izzie breathed a shaky sigh of relief. "Me too. I mean. I never thought I'd call you.. I'm sorry. For.. everything. For not keeping in touch and for.. for leaving the way I did."

"I'm sorry! I've nearly gone crazy, I.. I can't even.. I don't believe it! This is really you, huh?"

"Yes," Izzie sat down now. "Mom?"

"Yeah honey?"

"Will you come to my wedding?"

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After she hung up, nearly an hour later, Alex came downstairs. His hair was wet and his chin was soft from shaving, just the way she liked it. He sat down next to her and she climbed into his lap. Thoughtfully, he stroked her hair.

"Did you call her?"

Izzie nodded.

"Was it hard?"

Izzie shivered. He rubbed her shoulders. "Easier than I thought. But it made me realize how.. how stupid I was. Seventeen years, Alex. I haven't talked to her for seventeen years."

"She could have called you," he said gently. "It wasn't all your fault."

"She didn't know my number," Izzie buried her head in his chest. "She didn't know my godamn number, Alex. I could have called her. I had.. I had seventeen years to pick up the phone, or to.. to write a letter."

He did not try and argue with her. He didn't try and tell her that it was okay that she didn't call, that things will be okay between Ronnie and Izzie right away. But he did say, "Iz. You love.. everybody. Your world, it's like.. this neverending sea of good people. You always see the good in everyone, you're a nice person. And there must have been something in your mom.. she must have hurt you in a way that made you not want to call her. Maybe part of it was your fault. You could have called her, sure. That's true. But I know you. And so there must have been something keeping you from calling her."

Izzie did not know if this was a rhetorical statement. She didn't really care. The best way for Izzie to set her feelings straight, was to talk them out. Sometimes, when she was younger, this meant sitting cross legged on her bed in the trailer, and going on for hours to her stuffed animals. When she was a little older, she used to babble away to her mother, while she slept through an alcohol induced coma. But now Alex was the one she could talk to. He was the one that listened no matter what crazy words were coming out of her mouth. He was there.

"She.. she was a good mom," Izzie said uncertainly. "I mean. She loved me."

"Sometimes," Alex said, tracing letters on Izzie's back, "you can love someone, but that doesn't mean they're good to you. You know?"

Izzie nodded. "That's it. That's the way it was with us. Maybe.. we loved too much? Or not enough? I don't know. But I was a little kid and she treated me like I was an adult. She left me alone a lot, at nights, during the summer, on weekends. Once, when I was six, Children's Aid almost took me away because she stayed out for two days straight. She brought boyfriends over that.. they hit me, sometimes, when they got tired of hitting her. They tried stuff on me. That didn't last for long though. The kissing, or whatever else they tried to do to me. I was young, but I wasn't stupid.

"I hated it. Living there. There were some good people that just got put into bad situations. But there was a lot of bad people that were just plain bad. And so when I got out of there.. to go to college, I promised myself that I wouldn't forget, but that I would never let myself live like that. It was just.. hard."

Alex, gently and slowly, rocked Izzie back and forth. He studied her, carefully. "That's tough."

"Sorry," she said. "For my big sob story. I just.. I think maybe I wanted to make sure I didn't get hurt again, and so I stayed away from her. Anything to do with her I.. avoided, I guess."

"I understand that," Alex nodded. "I still won't even look at anyone named Patrick. My dad," he said.

Izzie nodded. She had heard a lot about Patrick. "Maybe," Alex said stoically, "we just don't want to go back to people that hurt us. We just want to pretend like that part of our life didn't exist."

"Jesus," Izzie said, kissing him, "when did you get so smart?"