-1Bitterness tainted Derek's tongue as he took a long swallow of the black slop the waitress had told him was coffee. He grimaced as the thick muck slid down his throat. He slammed the ceramic mug onto the Formica topped table, then stared down at the dark liquid. This wasn't how he had planned on spending his Sunday afternoon, sitting alone in a coffee shop, drinking sludge, and mourning the loss of something that never was. Yet, there he was. Sitting, mourning, and wondering how the hell he was going to deal with Meredith and Mark being a couple.

Derek frowned, a small crease marring the space just above his nose. He had known, on some level, that Mark would eventually forgive Meredith. The man had been in love with her for years. A small part of him, the part that was in love with her, had hoped she would realize it was him, Derek, that she was in love with. He should have known better. The entire time they were pretending to be a couple all she could do was cry about the situation with Mark. In addition to the tears she had kept telling him what a good friend he was and how she was sorry for what had happened between the two of them.

"More coffee?" He glanced up to find a waitress standing there. She was average looking, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a too wide grin. The pale pink polo shirt and khaki pants she wore did little for her figure, but then most work uniforms weren't like The Hot Zone's and meant to flatter.

"Are you sure this is coffee?" He cracked. Rose, at least that is what her name tag read, laughed. She made a joke back about not knowing what the sludge really was. "Any chance of getting some that isn't the consistency of motor oil?"

"I'll see what I can do," Rose promised, taking the mug from the table. She smiled over her shoulder at him. He smiled back, it didn't quite reach his eyes though. His gaze is averted to the front door when he hears it jingle. Sunlight turned pale blonde hair to gold, giving the tall, slender girl an angelic look. He could not help cracking a small smile and waving. She waved in return, then said something to the man she was with before making her way toward him.

"Derek! Hi!" Izzie grinned at him, sliding into the booth across from him without waiting for an invitation. Not that she needed one. "So, how are you?"

The question was a reasonable one. It was one he would have asked her if their roles were reversed. It still felt like an invasion, a slap in the face. It meant that she knew about the triangle that was him, Meredith and Mark. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Izzie quirked one eye brow. "You're fine?" He nodded. "Come on Derek, I've worked for you for almost a year now. I've kinda gotten to know you…just a little…enough that I know you are not fine." She shrugged out a raspberry colored hoodie, revealing a peach colored long, sleeved t shirt. "Is this about Meredith?" Derek winced. Was he really that obvious? "Don't worry, you don't look pathetic or anything. I just know the full story. Plus, I've seen the way you look at her." So, she did know. All the gory details. Great. He wondered who else knew. Most likely the whole damn bar.

"How do I look at her?" Derek demanded.

She hesitated. "The same way she looks at Mark," Izzie answered softly. He had been expecting the answer. It stung none the less. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It's just…you know what. Never mind. I'm going to shut up now."

"Are you ready?" Derek looked up to find a curly haired fellow with large blue eyes. The collared golf shirt and pressed khakis reminded him of the yuppies at the country club. He knew that he should know the kid was, but he couldn't put his finger on how or why. "If you're not, I really need to know. We have reservations."

"Yeah. I'm ready. Sorry." Izzie smiled weakly at Derek, then slid out of the booth. The man, her boyfriend he assumed, had already started toward the door. "George?" He turned to look back at her. "Aren't you even going to say hi?"

"Oh. Right. Hello." George offered him a stiff smile. It was clear that the other man was only being polite because Izzie had asked it of him. "We really need to go, Izzie," George insisted, he tapped his watch for effect. The action annoyed Derek. Even more annoying was the way George smiled and chatted with Rose, the waitress. In front of an oblivious Izzie. It was clear that the two knew each other.

"She's a friend of our's from high school," Izzie said, as though she could read his thoughts. "Real nice girl. If you're ever interested…" Izzie wiggled her eyes brows and smiled. Derek laughed, then shook his head. "Okay, well if you change your mind…"

"I won't," Derek promised. Izzie laughed, then said another goodbye before leaving. George didn't deserve her, he thought sourly. He had only met Izzie's boyfriend twice before, and each time he had been left with a feeling of distaste. For whatever reason, he didn't like the younger man. There was no respect, no sign that the man appreciated the gem he had in Izzie. Derek only hoped that one day, and soon, Izzie wised up.

"Here's your coffee, sir," Rose said sweetly. She set a steaming cup of fresh brewed coffee before him. He said a thank you, then lifted the mug to his lips. It tasted the way coffee was meant to taste. At least one thing in his life had been set right. Now, the question was, how the hell was he going to get over Meredith?