The funeral was beautiful. Izzie admitted that she couldn't have imagined anything better as she sat through Mass from her seat on the first row of the church, but that didn't stop her from tuning out the words of the priest as he said the Eternal Rest prayer, and the eulogy that Miranda Bailey gave from behind the pulpit. It was too painful for her to listen to them refer to her son in the past tense, so she refused to listen at all.

She sat numbly through the entire service, closing her eyes when Alex, Richard, George, and Derek walked toward the alter, lifting her child's casket and slowly descending down the aisle. She was vaguely aware of Mark's hand slipping into hers, tugging on her gently to signal for her to rise with him so that they could follow them out of the church.

Meredith and Cristina watched them pass their pew, remaining in their seats for several more moments until they were able to stand up and exit the church, as well. On the steps outside, they congregated with Addison, the three women forming a semi-circle as they spoke.

"Are you sure you don't mind meeting the caterers at the house?" Addison asked Meredith for the third time that morning.

Meredith gave Addison a long stare before replying. "I'm sure, Addison," she told her. She had gladly volunteered for the job, knowing that she was the last person that Izzie and Mark would want to see at their son's burial.

Beside her, Cristina spoke up. "I'll go with you," she offered. "I'm not a big fan of funerals." Meredith nodded understandingly, knowing Cristina was thinking of the funeral she attended for her father more than two decades before.

They arrived at Mark and Izzie's house just as the catering company's van was pulling up. Cristina parked her car in the driveway and the two women walked up to the front porch, unlocking the door.

Several workers appeared moments later, a couple of them carrying a folded table and several others carrying trays of covered dishes in their hands.

Meredith looked around nervously. "Uh…I'm not really sure where we're going to put everything," she told him, realizing that she hadn't thought it through.

"It's fine," one of them said. "We actually have instructions from Addison Montgomery. Just point us in the direction of the den," he told her.

Meredith smiled at Addison's predictable organization. "It's through here," she replied, leading them through the French doors into the den. She frowned when her eyes met the television screen, landing on a paused image of Ben from last year's Halloween.

"Jesus," Cristina whispered from behind her, staring at the image of the grinning boy. "Do you think they were watching that before the funeral? Why would they torture themselves?"

Meredith shook her head, stepping around the caterers to go turn off the television. "I don't know," she said quietly, turning back toward her friend.

They both stared at one another curiously when they heard the doorbell ring. "Who could that be?" Meredith questioned.

Cristina simply shrugged, and they both turned to exit the den, walking into the foyer and opening the door to find a middle-aged woman standing in the threshold. "Oh, hi," she told them, smiling politely. "Is this the Sloan household? I have a delivery from Maggie's Bakery," she said, holding up a large white box in her hands.

"Oh, yeah, this is it," Meredith told her, taking the box from the woman. Looking at Cristina, she said, "I guess I'll just put it in the den with the rest of the food," and she, turning in that direction.

Cristina signed a form indicating that the delivery had been made, thanking the woman and closing the door behind her before rotating around to follow Meredith into the den. After depositing the box onto the table, Meredith turned to her expectantly. "What should we do now?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I could use a drink. Where does Izzie keep the booze around here?" Cristina asked.

Meredith rolled her eyes and walked out of the den in the direction of the kitchen, Cristina trailing behind her. "You know, it is still morning," she commented as she walked around the kitchen's island, retrieving a glass and setting it down in front of Cristina.

"So?" Cristina asked before her eyes went wide with dread. "Oh, please don't tell me the fetus has already turned you against me," she implored dryly, picking up the empty glass and holding it out to Meredith.

She laughed lightly and turned to a cabinet behind her, removing the tonic water and vodka. "Don't worry," she assured her, setting the bottles in front of her friend. "I would be joining you if I could."

"That's the spirit."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, remaining in the kitchen as they waited for the visitors to arrive for the wake. They didn't have to wait to long, they realized, when they heard the front door open and Addison call out their names. They left the kitchen, finding her in the den surrounded by Alex, Derek and the O'Malley's. "How was it?" Meredith asked them quietly as she walked up to Derek, threading her arms around his waist.

"It was sad," Callie said quietly, her mind instantly replaying the image of Izzie sobbing as they lowered her son into the ground. "I don't know how they're going to get through this."

Addison sighed sadly in agreement as she stepped toward the table of food, removing the covers of the dishes. "I'm sure everyone else will be arriving soon," she told them softly. "We left the gravesite as soon as-"

They turned to look at her when she stopped mid-sentence, finding her standing frozen over the table. "Oh my God," they heard her whisper. "What the hell is this?"

Alex went to her side, his brow furrowed in confusion. His eyes widened when he followed her gaze, staring down at the table in front of them. "Oh shit."

"What's wrong?" George asked as the others walked toward the table, peering over Addison and Alex's shoulders.

They all gasped when they saw the cake sitting in the white cardboard box. In blue icing, the words Happy Birthday, Ben were written across the center of the cake, images of a circus surrounding the scribe. It was adorable, something that Izzie had obviously picked out long before she knew what she would actually be doing the week her son was to turn three years old.

"It was for his party tomorrow," Callie said unnecessarily, blinking back tears as George wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"It was delivered separately from the catering company, but I thought you'd ordered it," Meredith explained, her voice shaky as she stared at the cake in front of her. "I didn't look to see what was in the box. I…I'm sorry…"

Addison shook her head at the apology. "It's not you're fault; no one knew that this was being delivered today," she said understandingly, closing the box and picking it up. "I guess I'll just put this in my car. It can't stay in here; Izzie would lose it if she saw this."

"If she saw what?" Mark asked from behind them, and they all turned toward him in surprise, finding him standing alone in the doorway.

"Oh, we didn't hear you come in," Meredith said, her voice high pitched with nervousness.

Mark looked briefly toward her before glancing away, training his eyes to stare at Addison. "Izzie would lose it if she saw what?" he asked more forcefully, causing the others to look at the floor uneasily.

"The catering company just made a mistake," she answered lamely, avoiding his gaze.

He narrowed his eyes as he watched her fidget anxiously before him, and he quickly advanced toward her, snatching the box from her hands and lifting the top.

His face paled as her stared at its contents, transfixed by the sight before him. "What the hell is this doing here?" he asked in a whisper, but his question was met by nervous silence. His eyes lifted, his gaze studying each person in the room. "Why is this here?" he yelled suddenly as the silence stretched on, causing the others to jolt with the surprise of his attack.

"It was a mistake," Derek told him, walking toward his friend and putting his hand on Mark's arm sympathetically. "It was delivered this morning at the same time the caterers were setting up, but we're going to get rid of it."

Mark looked up, meeting Derek's stare with fresh tears in his eyes. Nodding his head, he turned back to Addison, clearing his throat as he pushed the box toward her. "Izzie can't see this," he said hoarsely, agreeing with her earlier statement. The others remained silent, giving him a much needed moment to compose himself.

"Where is she?" George asked him eventually, worriedly glancing toward the empty doorway.

"She went upstairs to lay down for awhile. She said she's not feeling well."

"Oh," George replied quietly, his arm tightening around his wife.

They all stared at one another when the doorbell rang seconds later, signifying the arrival of the first visitors. "I'll answer it," Addison volunteered softly. "I have to take this to my car anyway."

Mark nodded lightly, rubbing his hand tiredly across his forehead as he watched her leave the room. "I'm going to make a drink," he said suddenly, turning toward the doorway.

"I'll come with you," Derek offered, moving to follow his friend.

A great number of people showed up at the house to pay their respects to Mark and Izzie, most of whom Mark recognized. He watched many of them gather in small groups, whispering to one another and pointing sadly toward the photographs of Ben and his family that lined the bookcases and the mantel over the fireplace. Mark had to stop himself from fleeing the room when he saw their sad faces, his chest tightening as his eyes, too, gazed at the innocent happiness of Ben in the pictures around the room.

He jolted slightly when a soft voice came from behind him "We're so sorry, Mark." He turned around to find Adele and Richard Webber looking at him with pity marking their features.

"Thank you," he said with a small, empty smile, his words virtually devoid of meaning after having repeated them so often.

"Where's Izzie?" the chief asked with concern, glancing around the room with curiously.

"She's laying down upstairs. She's feeling a little under the weather," he explained quietly

Addison walked up beside them, furrowing her brow at Mark's words. "She still up there?" she questioned worriedly.

"Yeah, I was about to go check on her."

"I'll go for you," Addison offered, watching as one of Seattle Grace's surgical oncologists approached them to give Mark his condolences. "You should stay down here." Mark smiled appreciatively at her and watched her walk out of the den.

She climbed the stairs to the second floor, stopping outside of Mark and Izzie's master bedroom and knocking lightly. She received no answer, though, so she tentatively opened the door, peaking into the room. She opened it wider when she didn't immediately see her friend, stepping into the bedroom and looking around, but she found it to be empty.

"Izzie?" she called out, walking toward the adjoining bathroom and tapping on the cracked door. "Are you in there, Iz?"

She heard what could only be described as a moan emit from the room before her, so she opened the door quickly in concern.

"Oh, Izzie," she whispered sympathetically, walking to where her friend sat on the cold tiles, her elbows leaning against the toilet seat and head resting against her arm.

Addison walked to the sink and moistened a washcloth with cold water, placing it against Izzie's forehead as she squatted down beside her. With her free hand, she gathered Izzie's long blonde locks, pulling them away from her face.

Izzie laughed a little, the shrill noise sounding forced. "What a great time to get morning sickness," she said with sarcastic blitheness.

Addison smiled slightly, raising the hair higher off Izzie's neck and moving the washcloth to rest against her sweaty skin. "Well, it can be brought on by stress," she commented, running the wet cloth just below the back neckline of Izzie's dress. "Is there anything you need? Anything I can get you?"

Izzie closed her eyes as she was hit with another wave of nausea. "Can you get Mark?" she asked weakly, rising to her knees and bracing herself against her queasiness.

"Of course," she said quietly, standing quickly and disappearing through the doorway.

Mark appeared moments later, just as Izzie began to empty the rest of her stomach contents into the bowl before her. Wordlessly, he sat behind her, holding the hair from her face just as Addison had minutes before. He waited quietly, rubbing her back soothingly with his other hand.

When her stomach settled, she fell exhaustedly against her husband, her head fitting just below his chin. He wrapped his arms around her as he listened to her struggle to catch her breath, his hand coming to rest against her flat abdomen. "Don't give your mom such a hard time," he said quietly to his unborn child before nuzzling the top of Izzie's hair with his cheek.

Izzie smiled slightly at his comment and snuggled closer against him, her hand coming to rest over her husband's as they sat wordlessly together on the bathroom floor.