Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or their back-stories. They just like to run crazily through my head until I write it all out. Again, don't sue me, all you will win is this story.

A/N: Reviews:) OK, so I have one more character to do after this, and I haven't decided quite where to take this yet. I will hopefully have it figured out shortly. Thanks for reading!


It has been five years. Five years since she had the worst group of unruly interns in her career. Five years since she almost lost her job over one of those stupid interns. Five years since she was passed up for chief resident. Five years since she opened her largest accomplishment to date, affectionately dubbed "the clinic". Five years since she was mommy tracked. All in all the last five years haven't made too big of a dent in her life. She has remained on the mommy track and if it weren't for her pride she might have switched to a specialty where being a mom was okay. Where being a mom was applauded. But it isn't in her line of work.

Now she is a fourth year attending. She is still the Nazi. She has, in the last five years, made about 13 interns cry in front of her and she has no idea how many behind closed doors. She would be lying if she said that that year, five years ago, wasn't the hardest year of her life. And she would be lying if she said she didn't miss that group of annoying interns. She is thankful that she has gotten to watch the majority of them progress onto bigger and better things. But she doesn't like the things she hears about them in the rumor mill that is SGH. Sometimes she misses Yang's snaky comments behind her back. Sometimes she misses O'Malley's incessant whining. Sometimes she misses Steven's beside manner. Some days she misses Grey's man problems, although from what she has heard they are still a prevalent theme in her life. And on a bad day she still wishes she could hear Karev's defiant tone. They were all good she remembers, just each in their own way. There have yet to be any like them again. The chief was right when he said that most of them wouldn't stick with the program. But her interns thought they were invincible. Thought they owned the world and everything in it. Now half of them aren't even doctors let alone surgeons. She did her best to teach them, to teach everyone who walked through those doors. But what has she gotten in return? The mommy track.

Sometimes she wishes she could disappear and stay in surgery forever. She loves the feeling, the adrenaline, and the rush of someone being saved from the perils of death. Five years ago she didn't mind that Shepherd was picked as the chief, as long as it wasn't Sloan. But two years ago when Shepherd appointed Montgomery-Sloan to take his position she was enraged. Sure she was still young, and had things to learn but she was groomed for that position. And she likes her old/new boss well enough but, that position is supposed to be hers. Tucker reminds her every night that she complains that it will be hers soon enough. Then he begs hers to stop talking about work. Sometimes she wishes that he could understand the physical, emotional, and mental difficulties of her job. But she knows he can not relate. So they bond over their son. Their son who was seven years in the making. Who was born on an all too eventful day, and they are grateful to still have something in common. Their son, the one she has missed out on the most. Sometimes she feels as though she knows her patients better than her own child, and it shoves her into a deep and bitter pit of regret and remorse. Tucker got to see all of the "firsts" and she is jealous. Marriage is difficult at best she tells herself. It isn't that she doesn't love him, because she does, more than anything in the world. But she wishes he could understand her better.

Sometimes she thinks of how life could have been so much easier if she would've not gotten married so young. But she quickly shoves the thought to the back of her mind and knows that she wouldn't have it any other way. All of her work qualms aside she is pretty happy. Not that she would admit it to anyone that wasn't a close and personal friend. Miranda Bailey does not get put into the gossip cauldron, oh no. And if she did, she may kill the person who started it. She is the Nazi after all, and will remain so. Even when she is the chief and she will be the chief. She knows that Montgomery-Sloan isn't happy and is waiting until the day she cracks under the pressure. Waiting for the day she can take her properly appointed throne in the corner office on the third floor overlooking what has become her home away from home, her sanctuary.


It has been five years. Five years since he walked away from the love of his life, his job. Five years since he handed over the gig to his prodigy, who promptly handed it right back. After some persuading he was able to convince Shepherd that is was best he take the job. He had things he needed to do. Things he should've have been doing for years he now realizes. Being with his wife, the most amazing person he has ever met. Sometimes he wonders how in the world she could've stuck by him through everything only to walk away because of his job. He guesses it was more a culmination of things stemming from his job. But either way it doesn't matter because he has gotten her back now, and he is happy. Was happy in the beginning anyway. These days he is going a little stir crazy with the woman. She has suggested he take up hobbies. It isn't easy for him to sit around and do nothing, he was the chief. He likes the sheer rush of everyday life in a hospital, and he misses it more than he missed his wife.

He checks in occasionally with them, enough to know his other favorite surgeon is now the Chief. She is doing a great job there, but he can't help but think he can do better. She gets too attached, and even after his lesson she still hasn't fully grasped the concept. But this is for the better, he knows that. Five years ago he lost his only child. They tried, she tried to save him but she couldn't. While he was sad, he was almost grateful. It was the thing that led him back to her. He needed her then, still does today. She is his stability, his rock. Three years ago he relapsed badly. A few years off the job, and getting stuck playing golf every other day with people he didn't particularly enjoy drove him back to the bottle. She stayed with him again, to his surprise and dismay. She threw his ass back into rehab and now he has been clean for 2 years, 7 months, 43 days, 6 hours, and 19 minutes. Yes, he counts. He misses drinking. He has a disease; he knows it isn't just an addiction anymore. He is sick. Literally and figuratively. He knows all the medical scenarios and possible outcomes for his cirrhosis of the liver, but he remains skeptical. It is difficult for him to hold on to faith when life has proven him wrong so many times already.

Four years ago, reeling from the death of their son that would never be she suggested they adopt. They looked into several agencies, and even filled out the paperwork. But after a few short months of looking they came to an understanding that they would never have children, their opportunity was lost. They were too old, and he was too sick now. It wouldn't be right to bring a child into the world that could possibly, only have a father for a matter of years. So instead they spoil the only granddaughter they have ever known rotten. They take her for weekends trips, shopping, and out to the park with what had become the closest thing to a daughter they would ever get, Meredith. Life is twisted he thought, but Derek has always been like a son so he supposes that it works itself out.

Oh, the tangled webs we weave in hospitals he laughs. He knows all too well. Sometimes he wishes he could disappear from his mundane world and go back to work. He liked his job, he hates his life. It taunts him. It flaunts everything he could've had in front of his face everyday. But he rushes home to her anyway; she is all he has got. Tonight he rushes a little too fast. And as he hears the screeching sirens and sees the red and blue swirling lights above him somewhere, he knows. As they pull his mangled body from his SUV with the Jaws of Life, he is certain. As he fights a losing battle with his body to stay conscious, he is 100 sure. And as he manages to mutter out to a young paramedic, "Tell my wife I love her", it all becomes clear. This is how it ends; this is how it all ends. This is how he goes, how fitting. How appropriate.