A/N: Thanks guys, for all your support!

Enjoy!

Carolyn resisted the urge to run to the Grey House. She knew Michael needed space, but she knew... that if she talked to him, they would be alright. They could work this out. They would work this out.

Carolyn didn't run, but she walked quickly. She didn't want to give him too much time to mope.

This was a good thing. A Baby was a good thing. Marriage was a good thing. She spent a long time convincing herself of these things and now she just had to convince Michael. After all, he started it. Right?

She huffed when she came up to the Grey House. "For heaven's sakes!" He had climbed through the window.

Sighing, she reached over and pulled herself awkwardly inside. When her feet hit the floor she huffed again. "Michael?" she called. Where would he be in this huge house? "Michael?"

She thought she heard something as she stepped into the foyer. "Mike?" she called again. She took another step, but fell right through the floor.

"Not again," she moaned, as she tried to stand up. But there, in the dirt, was a figure.

The figure didn't move. Carolyn crouched over, arching a brow. "Oh dear," she said. "Michael?" She rubbed his back and touched his shoulder to turn him over. "Michael, wake up," she shook him again.

He groaned and turned over, blinking. "Care, wh-what happened?"

"I'm not sure. You tell me," she cupped his face.

"I, I um-" he looked at her. Stared, really, as he sat up. He cupped her face too. "Carolyn, what year is it?"

"What year? Why, what's happened to you? You hit your head?" She ran her hands through his hair, searching for bumps. He groaned and rubbed his forehead, then caught her arm and held it, staring at her. She stared back, but it seemed his gaze would never end.

"Nevermind," he said. "I remember."

"Remember?"

"Yes." He let his hand fall along the side of her face, catching some of her long chestnut curls between his fingers. "You're beautiful. You'll always be beautiful," he said as she helped him up.

"How much do you remember, exactly?" Did he remember what she told him a mere 20 minutes ago? About the life that lived inside her?

Michael leaned in close, resting his hands on her shoulders. Slowly they slipped down to her elbows, and then inside, to her hips. He squeezed, thumbs dimpling her black dress. "We're having a baby," he said.

"Yes," she said. "Michael-"

"Shh. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run off like that. I shouldn't have left you. But now… now I know how much I love you."

"How much?"

"This much," he said. Then he kissed, and kissed, and kissed her until her lips were numb and tingling, and her cheeks sore from laughing.

xxx

Cassie watched little Bailey play with the towel his grandmother had pulled out from her box. Meredith still hadn't opened her box, and she'd sensed a deep reluctance. But before she could go and nudge her, she saw Jake on the periphery of her vision.

He had to go.

"Jake?" she called. But he didn't seem to hear her as he walked down the cliff. His time here was fading. She followed him. "Jake!"

"Mom?" Brandon called out, "Where are you going?"

She didn't answer. Despite her instincts to stay, she jogged after Jake, heading back the way she came. She continued along the bank, around a bend, through the woods.

"Cassie."

"I…"

They were under the old oak tree, under the dead branches. Under the heart-shaped tag. She panted, catching her breath. "I… when I said goodbye last time, I didn't mean goodbye forever."

"I know. Neither did I."

"I didn't know. I should've known! I should've-"

"Hey." His hands on her cheeks were warm and solid. She could even feel his breath on her lips. "Shh, you couldn't have known. You weren't supposed to."

She drew him close, kissed him, swallowed him up as much as she could.

Jake pulled a knife out of his belt, and scratched his own mark in the tree. "I love you," he said. "Always. But don't keep all your love to yourself, okay?"

How did he do that? Just say things that did that… to her?

With a final caress of her cheek, he was gone.

xxx

Meredith tapped the old tackle box, running her fingers over the rough plastic.

You remember ages ago, we had a really big fight, and I told you… I said, 'You're like coming up for fresh air. Like I was drowning, and you saved me.'

I still feel that way.

When I see you, what we have, our family… That's the feeling. It's you.

It's always been you.

She looked over at Carolyn, feeling like an eavesdropper as her gaze swept over the items in her box.

Carolyn was reading a newspaper cut out she'd pulled out from the box, running her fingers over it wistfully. "Our first anniversary," she said.

Meredith nodded. "We never did anything like that," she said. Sure, they'd 'celebrated.' Sometimes with a gift, or special dinner and a bottle of champagne. Sometimes with a special surgery. Always with sex. But never anything formal, like a notice in the paper. They never felt the need to announce these things.

"It's just what people did, back then." Carolyn said. "My mother kept them all in a scrapbook. Except this one. He must've taken it out."

Meredith nodded dully, stroking Zola's hair. Her daughter had sensed Meredith's unease and backed off with the requests to open the 'treasure chest,' but remained stubbornly in her lap, playing with the string of her hoodie.

"Neither of you were much for sentimental things, I suppose," Carolyn said. "You lived in the moment. Loved in the moment. That's what made you two so…"

"Intense?"

"Affecting." Carolyn closed the box and turned to her. "I don't presume anything, Meredith. Everyone's love story is different. Simple and complex in its own way. Derek… he loved you almost instantly. I'm sure it took all but a few days to completely fall head over heels for you. How could one capture that feeling onto a slip of paper or in some memento?" The older woman reached over and patted the box. "You know what's in there? Reminders of the things that changed you, both of you, for the better."

I am calling post-it. Zola, Bailey, tumors on the wall, and ferry boat scrub caps.

Maybe she didn't want to remember right now. Maybe she was too angry. Maybe she was too raw and hurt, too shocked that half of her life was gone and reliving the good old times didn't bring him back.

Especially when she missed him so.

But that was just it, wasn't it? She was already in pain. Everything was painful. Moving, breathing, living. But lately… in this place, with these people. It hadn't hurt as much.

Maybe it would be okay.

xxx

"There you are." Sam called, hiking up the small mound the old oak tree had soaked its roots in.

Cassie smiled softly at him. "Hey," she returned.

"Well, that was… some treasure hunt."

"Wasn't it?" Cassie smiled.

"Just glad we found her. I never knew about that cave."

"Yeah, neither did I. It was like it was… waiting for us."

"Cassie."

"Sam?"

His gaze studied her intently, as if he was swallowing her up. "I had a strange dream last night. There was an earthquake. I was in a crash…" he shook his head. "It felt so intense, so real."

"Sam…"

"In the dream, I couldn't see. I couldn't move. I knew you were there. But I couldn't tell you what I felt." He stepped closer, as did she. "So, I want to tell you now."

She felt it coming off him in waves. He didn't have to tell her. But maybe he needed to. And… Maybe… She needed to hear it.

"I love you." Sam said. "I'm not sure if you're ready. Hell, I don't know if I'm ready, but I love you."

"Sam-"

He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Shh."

xxx

2005:

Derek opened the box.

Dirt and dust fell onto his lap, he wiped it off as he stared at the few items collected there over time. His Grandfather's dog tags, for one. The Shepherd figurine… dad's old fishing lure. He set that aside for later. There was a picture of his hockey team from when he was a teenager. A graduation pin from high school. In the bottom of the box was a worn copy of 'The Sun Also Rises.' Ah, yes. He put that in there after his freshman year at Bowdoin. All these things were reminders of who he was. And he just now realized that he wasn't that man anymore. Somehow he'd changed.

Well, that was it.

No, wait. Something clinked.

He lifted up the book. Oh. How had he forgotten about that?

His penlight. A gift from Dr. Gibbs, his Neurology Professor at Bowdoin.

He clicked it on and off, running his finger over the engraving. Yes. He still wanted to save lives and be the best he could be. But maybe with a different bent. He didn't need the brownstone or the private practice. He didn't need the trappings of success. He needed to be a success. One of his own making. With a rough sigh, he ran his hand through his hair.

No more of this. No more living his life chasing things that got ruined. Absently, he twisted the wedding ring on his finger. And then it came off altogether. He dropped it into the box with a thunk.

He didn't see the other small metal object, wedged into the bottom seam of the tacklebox. An object, strangely, from another time.

xxx

Mommy," Zola pressed against her. Her little hand covered hers on the box. "Are you gonna open it?" she whispered.

Meredith swallowed. Her fingers trembled. She couldn't open it. "Zola, you open it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Zola's hand left hers and slipped down to the latch. She cast another 'are you sure?' glance to her mother, and Meredith nodded.

She opened the box.

A/N: I know! Cliffie! More soon!