Part IV here! I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. This one is kind of longer. We've got one more happy moment after this. Let me know what you think!
2015
"So we have a wedding anniversary next month," Henry remarks one day over breakfast in early November.
"We have an official wedding anniversary next month," she counters, distractedly wiping cinnamon-pumpkin puree from Sam's mouth, nose, and eyes. That's the nice thing about the way their relationship started: They get the official wedding anniversary, in December, when they did the whole courthouse thing, and they get what she considers their real anniversary, in May, when he wore her down and they started actually being a couple. "I like our other one better."
"It does have its perks," he agrees, smirking lewdly, and she smacks him lightly, because she knows exactly where his mind is. "But people say this one is important. Five years. They name plates and cheap jewelry after this one."
"People say, do they?" she laughs, then turns to tag-team Max's mess. "What do people say you should do on an anniversary?" They've never really been big on anniversaries — Year One he was in the hospital, Year Two she was eight months pregnant, Year Three they'd forgotten about it until the week before and couldn't find a babysitter, Year Four she'd been seven months pregnant with the twins.
"Dinner, dancing, hot tubs," he says, and she laughs.
Picking up Hannah to get her dressed, she leans over and kisses him. "I might be high-maintenance about everything from airport pickups to what type of organic produce we buy, but I honestly do not need a big anniversary thing. Promise."
She jokes about being high-maintenance, but the truth is that they have one of the most low-key marriages of anyone she knows. They have differences of opinion often but resolve them fairly quickly; they have a lot to juggle between their jobs and three kids in two years but simply just keep texting and talking. It's work, yes, but she doesn't think it's hard with Henry. She supposes she should consider herself lucky but by this point it's simply her view of her and him, together. Marriage was something they eased into without pressure or expectations: Married, then friends, then a couple was a path she heartily endorses. He'd asked her, around the time Mark and Lexie's wedding invitation came, if she ever craved the dress-and-party route. While she'd always expected a relationship to go a certain way and that way included a kickass party and a great dress, she absolutely did not feel like she'd missed out on anything.
"We'll see about that," Henry smirks, and she stops.
'Henry," she chastises gently, "Don't plan anything big, OK? I know you. That's a … secret-plan face."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he proclaims innocently. He scoops up the boys in one coordinated motion and puts one on each hip. "But I bet the three of us guys can get ready quicker than you two."
She laughs. "Not even trying if I've got Princess Hannah on my team."
Somehow thirty minutes later all three kids are ready to go (Hannah did take longer than both boys), and they drop Hannah off at her 2-year-olds program before driving to the hospital. They drop the twins off at day care before heading off to their prospective departments with a promise to meet up later for lunch if they can. Hunt's called a departmental meeting for the attendings, and she's got one of her fifth-years leading rounds on her patients. She's got two boring surgeries today — a coronary graft and a valve replacement. It's a longer shift than normal, but then she has tomorrow off, before a totally cool surgery on Friday where she and Cristina are going to reroute the veins of a woman with Turner's Syndrome. The nanny is picking up Hannah from preschool and the boys from the hospital at 2, so the kids are all taken care of. Henry has a tough day; he's got a court appointment in the morning to deal with the estate of a patient who fell into a coma without writing a will.
She changes quickly from her jeans, boots, and sweater into scrubs and a long-sleeved grey T-shirt. On her way out she runs into Arizona, sucking a lollipop that she'd swiped from the peds nurses' workstation, also on her way to Owen's meeting.
"What do you and Callie do for anniversaries?" she asks as her friend bounces along next to her.
"Eh. Last year we went to a resort in Palm Springs for a long weekend," she cracks the lollipop to get to the Tootsie roll. "I'm never patient enough to count licks on these things. Why?"
"Henry pointed out this morning it's our fifth anniversary next month and I think he was fishing for what I wanted to do," she replies, immediately noticing that her friend turned bright red before putting on a painstakingly uninterested face. "Why? Arizona Robbins, what do you know?"
"What — I — know — nothing! Absolutely nothing!"
"No way! You're roped into the … whatever! You're involved!" She grabs her friend by the elbow. "He's planning something! A month in advance! What the hell?"
"You have an incredibly sweet husband who, yes, asked me a few questions so he can plan something super-thoughtful and amazing. That's all you're getting."
"He doesn't need to plan anything," she replies. "I know he's sweet and wonderful and thoughtful — we don't need a day or something to acknowledge that." She gets it on one hand — marriage should be celebrated, whatever — but she doesn't want him to think that she wants or needs some outsized effort. They don't need to rent a blimp or whatever to do so.
"Just let him surprise you."
"You've gone to the dark side, Arizona Robbins," she says. "Come on. One hint?"
"Ooh look meeting! Woo important things to share! Let's go learn new and exciting things about hospital policy!" Arizona speedwalks into the conference room.
She knows that if she's going to crack anyone it's going to be Arizona. But Arizona has quickly taken her spot next to her wife, who looks slightly alarmed at Arizona's frenetic behavior. "This isn't over," Teddy hisses as she sits next to her friend. Arizona pretends to ignore her, though, and pretty soon Owen is droning on about the schedule for the next six months' worth of disaster drills.
She meets Dr. Chow right after the meeting to head into surgery, so she didn't get a chance to pester Arizona anymore. Twenty minutes later they're elbow deep in her happy place: a chest cavity. She's trying to get Dr. Chow (who is the most sensible of all residents: married to a college sweetheart who works at Microsoft) to help her plot to crack Arizona. She's doing a damn good job of resisting when Lyla, her scrub nurse, brings her a cell and says, "Dr. Altman? It's your husband."
"Thank you," she says, before, "Babe? You there?"
"Hey, yeah," he says. "Sorry — do you have your hands in someone's chest again? You know, I still think it's creepy when you do that."
"Most couples argue about whether or not it's okay to have a conversation from the toilet, we have this," she rationalizes. "Have you been to court yet?"
"I'm actually about to go in — the judge's docket is running over so we got pushed," he says. "Would lunch around 1 work? What time is your next surgery?"
"Two — I should be out of this around one. So do you want to maybe grab the boys and get a little picnic around then? We can eat outside. The second surgery should take around four hours so I'll probably be home around seven."
"A picnic, huh?" he asks, and she can hear his grin.
"Yeah. It's spontaneous, romantic, costs next-to-nothing, and both parties know about it ahead of time."
"Ahhhh, someone's been talking to Arizona," he surmises, and she knows he's not mad but that she's lucky he finds her charming.
"You know it," she says. "I'm trying to get Dr. Chow here to plot to get her to crack but she's not biting."
"I always liked Dr. Chow," he says. "Arizona's not gonna crack."
"Come on, a hint," she whines.
"I'll grab the boys and sandwiches and meet you at one," he says.
"Good luck in court!" she calls before she hears the click. She nods at Lila to take the cell back. "Come on, Dr. Chow, I can get you into some gooooood surgeries," she teases. She likes Dr. Chow, she just worries that the highly competent doctor doesn't have much fun with the rowdy, gossipy, SGMW crowd. "Anyone else? Surgeries in exchange for cracking Dr. Robbins about what my husband is planning for our anniversary?"
"How do you do it?" Dr. Simonson, the second-year resident assisting, blurts out.
"What do you mean?" she murmurs, deftly maneuvering the arteries.
"I mean … the husband! And the three kids! How did you balance this with being a surgeon? You even went back to being chief of cardio!"
She looks at the girl — because, even if you're 27 years old, if you're asking that question, you're a girl — carefully and with credulity. She barely pays attention to intern gossip these days but this one was maybe dating a third-year resident who was also sleeping with a nurse? Anyways. She's a good surgeon, and quick, and she likes having her on her service. "Just until Dr. Yang finishes her trial," she says, ducking the question. "And … you just do. When you meet someone who's worth it, you'll make it all work. Your surgeries, his surgeries, the babysitters, the preschools, the jobs, the mortgage … If you want to make it work you'll find a way. Now, was that you volunteering to crack Dr. Robbins?"
Everyone in the OR exhales, even laughs a little. "No, ma'am," she says, smiling a little.
When she finally meets her boys outside the daycare, she wisely doesn't mention the anniversary. Henry already managed to get sandwiches, and they quickly head outside. Both boys are crawling, and Max is even walking, so they help the boys scoot around the grass before it's time for her to head back in.
"Good job not asking about the anniversary," he says, smirking, as he walks her back to the surgical floor. "Excellent self-control there."
"Wasn't it?" she asks proudly. "Listen …"
"It's an anniversary. A guy should be allowed to surprise his girl," he says stubbornly.
"I know, will you just listen?" she says, thwacking him lightly. "I promise not to ruin your surprise. I will. I will ignore your secret-plan faces and not give you a hard time if you're talking with Arizona in the cafeteria or whatever. I'll be good. I'll be patient," he smirks. "But you don't need to do this, you know that, right? Like not even at all, even a little bit. I'm happy spending our anniversary sleeping in and then taking the kids to a zoo. That's what I like most about being married to you."
"Sleeping in?" he says, but she knows he gets it.
"Yes. The sleeping in, and the movie nights, and the arguing about who has to get the kid who's crying at 2 a.m. That's exactly what I like most about being married to you."
He kisses her, lightly. "I know. But I'm still doing something special for you for our anniversary."
"All right, then, you're on," she says.
"What?"
"Arizona says you're doing something amazing. So. Get your amazed face ready, mister."
He groans, lightly. "Sometimes, I actually do forget that you're the second-most competitive surgeon in the hospital."
She alarmed. "Who's the first?" she demands.
"Cristina Yang. Come on. Even you'll give it to her," and she agrees.
The next few weeks are super-busy: There's Thanksgiving, of course, but Henry needs to go in for a round of radiation and then surgery for some minor stomach tumors, which always freaks her out. For a robotic surgery it's a bit of a rocky recovery, and she wonders whether his anniversary surprise is still on. She thinks so: In fact, it feels like most of the other doctors are in on it. Owen and Cristina do for sure, since Owen is terrible at poker faces; if Arizona knows, Mark and Callie know; if Cristina knows, the Greys, Shepherd, Karev, Avery and Kempner know; Miranda knows everything, anyways. She's found the perfect gift for Henry — the fifth anniversary is wood, and she found him a 1905 Louisville Slugger, the first year that bats were signed — but she has no idea when to give it to him. Their anniversary is on a Thursday, during his first week back to work, and she knows is that whatever is happening regarding their anniversary is going to happen on Saturday night. They spend their actual anniversary dealing with a sick Sam, then she passes out while filling out insurance claims during a movie. All in all, it's the wedding anniversary that she would want. She mumbles that to him once he wakes her up and they go to bed. "Just wait till Saturday," he replies, waggling his eyebrows a little.
On Saturday, they start the day off with their usual workout in the basement, then a big Saturday brunch with the kids, but when she comes out of the shower she discovers that he's gone, and so are her babies. He's left a video message frozen on the downstairs TV, so she quickly flicks that on. "Happy fifth anniversary," TV-Henry says. "I know you're dying to know what's going on, Ted, but guess what?" he smirks. "Too bad." She laughs a little. "Now, the kids are gone for the day, totally out of your hair. Don't worry, they're safe with Lexie and Meredith. They're totally expecting six calls, by the way," TV-Henry continues. "And I've got some prep to do, but don't worry. Arizona, Cristina, and Miranda are going to be by to start your afternoon in about —" TV-Henry checked his watch. "Twenty minutes. Or, noon, if my super-awesome prediction of when you'll watch this video doesn't quite hold up." She checks her watch. It's 11:38. "Anyways, Theodora Altman, I love you. I'll see you tonight."
She's incredibly touched by the silly video, and quickly rushes to dry her hair, throw on jeans. What could they possibly be doing today? She's on the phone with Meredith (who assures her that the kids have been dropped off, that Hannah is playing with Zola and Sofia, and the boys are watching YoGabbaGabba) when her doorbell rings.
"Surprise!" Arizona says, kissing her on the cheek and coming in. "Are you ready? Henry said you'd be ready."
"I mean, yes, I think, but where are we going?" She tugs on her plain flannel T-shirt and cardigan.
"We are going to lunch, then shopping, then the spa," Arizona replies. "And you look perfect! Come on. Let's go."
"You still haven't told me what's going on," Teddy complains as Arizona hustles her out to her SUV.
"We're your bridal party," Cristina informs her. "Your fake pretend bridal party."
"Yang!" Miranda says quickly, disgusted and alarmed. "Remember how this is all a surprise?"
"What?" Cristina complains, somewhat reasonably. "She needs to know what's going on if she's going to, like, appreciate the day at all. Besides, all my emails said secret until the 12th. It's the 12th."
"Oh my god, is he planning some sort of vow renewal?" She hopes not, because while, yes, romantic, that would kind of be embarrassing and she does not have a clue what she would say, and he was at a completely unfair advantage for coming up with something amazing and profound.
"Not quite," Arizona says, looking irritated at Cristina. "But you are going to need a dress." They pile into the car, Miranda and Arizona both getting their punches in at Cristina.
After lunch they head out shopping. After Arizona assures her she doesn't need a white dress, she chooses a drop-dead gorgeous navy dress, tight and flattering and with a deep neckline ringed with embellishments. The three of them all choose the same burned-gold color for their dresses, making her increasingly suspicious that she's going to need vows. When they're on the way to the spa, she starts writing out a list on her grocery-store receipt, just in case.
"You can throw that away, you're not going to need it," Cristina insists.
"You're all wearing matchy-matchy dresses and insisting you're my bridesmaids. I'm going to keep it just in case," she pointedly insists.
"Fine, but you're not going to need it," Cristina sing-songs. She's absolutely lost as to what her crazy husband might be planning.
After the spa, Arizona announces that it's time for them to get dressed — even though she still doesn't know what they're doing. If it's not renewing their vows, she can only think that it's a fancy dinner, but if it is, there wouldn't have been a reason for the girls to buy dresses too.
The spa allows them to dress there, before they get back into Arizona's car and head to Rover's. Henry is waiting outside. Her three friends quickly scatter, Arizona kissing Henry on the cheek before they head inside.
"Henry, what's going on?" she insists, gently kissing him. "We're not renewing our vows, are we? Because I tried writing some down, but I have to tell you, they're pretty bad."
"Not quite," he says, grinning. "Remember when I asked you a few months ago if there was anything you thought you'd missed out on, us getting married the way we did?"
"Yes, and I said nothing," she replies.
"Wrong. You said you missed out on wearing a great dress and having a kickass party."
Realization begins to dawn on her. "Great dress," she says, motioning to her great dress.
"Kickass party," he agrees, jerking his head toward the restaurant.
"So everyone knows about this?"
"Basically," he grins. "But yes, this was the thought. I personally prefer the way we got married — fewer thank-you notes — but I did think, it'd be nice to celebrate this at least once, with friends and family and the whole shebang. Plus," he says, "there was one thing I felt I missed out on, and I needed to fix that."
She must look a little confused, because he quickly pulls out two velvet boxes from his pocket. "Oh, my god, Henry," she says, before he even flips the boxes open.
They never did rings. At first, the reasons were obvious — they weren't really married. Then they didn't want to jinx it. Then he got sick, really sick. Then she got pregnant. Then five years had passed without them even acknowledging that married people should wear wedding rings. It hadn't seemed like a big deal — she couldn't wear them to work, that was part of it — but now, suddenly, it seemed huge.
He's got two boxes, and wiggles one for her to open first. It's clearly an engagement ring: Two entwined loops, one white gold, one rose gold, braided around three diamonds. "For the kids?" she guesses, and he nods. She doesn't even bother pointing out that they were never engaged, not for more than 12 hours. It's lovely, and she holds her hand out gingerly for him to put the ring on her finger. She kisses him, deepening it until he pulls away.
"Not yet — that's just the engagement ring," he says, before opening the second box.
This one holds two rings — one for him, one for her. These are both extremely simple, old-fashioned yellow gold bands. Hers is more delicate than his, but barely, and fits perfectly next to the engagement ring. They're good rings. "It's beautiful," she whispers.
They slip the rings on each other's fingers wordlessly. Then, finally, he kisses her. When he notices her crying, though, he pulls away, before kissing each tear.
"Not the reaction I was hoping for," he admits.
"No — they're just, they're beautiful," she says. "Thank you. This was perfect." And it was. She's not sure how she deserved this, this perfect life with this extraordinary man. His disease — the possibility that he might be taken — always lurks beyond the surface, making each moment feel slightly stolen, making her appreciate the moments more. He grins, dashing away all those thoughts, and he moves to kiss her again, but she pulls back. "Come on. Let's go. We're holding up a party."
She takes her husband's hand, and tugs him into the party.
