Wow, guys, it's been a while! Anyways, I hope you'll stick with me and be understanding. After the finale, and Izzie's decision, I honestly contemplated stopping. However, I couldn't; for the sake of the story, Izzie obviously finished the program even though Denny died. Then, I had to deal with graduation, summer jobs, etc.,--but I'm back now! Please review! Please!

I don't own anyone, etc., and I'm not a doctor so medical's inaccurate.


"Dr. Grey, it's Brittany in Dr. Renard's office. We have room for you at two o'clock, and Dr. Stevens is available for a consult at this time. Please call us back to confirm or rearrange this appointment."

Meredith clicked the phone shut before deciding that dealing with the situation immediately would be the healthy method. She had had a surgery at seven that morning, but was free for the rest of the day. She dialed Lenore's office. "Hello? Brittany? Yeah, this is Dr. Grey. Yeah, two P.M. works for me." She stared at the ceiling. "Yeah, great. See ya." Hanging up the phone, she turned on her heel and walked towards the nurses' station.

Derek was standing there, so she grabbed a clipboard and stood next to him. "I made an appointment with Dr. Renard at two; I'd like for you to be there."

"Yeah, of course." He said, looking at her strangely. "It'll be okay, Mere." He touched her elbow.

She concentrated on not flinching. "Let's just see, okay? I mean—let's just see. It could be anything. It could be nothing. We don't know yet."

"Yeah. Okay." He said. "I've got to go. I have a surgery, but it'll be done by one."

"Alright. I'm clear for the rest of the day, surgery-wise." She looked sideways at him. "I have one tomorrow. A very long one."

"Hey—" He held up his hands. "Preston told me about you cornering him yesterday. If you think you're up to it, I won't say I told you so."

"You wouldn't ever say I told you so." Meredith said sternly.

"No, I wouldn't." he answered, completely honestly.

"Anyways, the surgery. It's a former patient of yours. I'd like you to come in, check her up, because of the history. See if you can remember anything unusual." Meredith segued. "Can you do that?"

"Yeah, sure. Just get me the chart."

"Sure."

She smiled before walking off to find Cristina. Cristina could always be counted to kick her ass out of her funk. She was standing outside a patient's room, twirling her hair as she read a chart. "What's up?" Cristina asked as she saw her friend approach. She began to move. "I have a surgery in twenty."

"If a gyno told you there was a mass, what would you think it would be?" she said seriously.

"Mere, you're a doctor. Be more specific."

"Just…a mass. In a baby's—a fetus's—body."

"Could be nothing. Could be anything. Ask Izzie if it's important." Cristina said briskly. Then, she turned sharply. "Why? Is something wrong with the baby?"

Meredith nodded, sucking in her cheeks. "There's a mass. Possibly a mass. They don't know yet. Derek, Izzie, and I are meeting Dr. Renard at two."

"Well, have Izzie look at it then. But don't speculate over things until you have something concrete to look at."

"I'm sorry. I'm just—worried. It's something you worry over."

"Not if you're a doctor. Be a doctor, Mere. You're a damn good one. This is just something that happens. You can't worry about the what-ifs or have the residual guilt. Get your game face on."

"You have kids, Cristina. You know how hard it is to think like a doctor at times like these." Though her voice had a hint of a whine, she was happy that Cristina was being so blunt and professional. She needed that.

"Mere. Seriously. You can't worry about something that technically doesn't exist yet."

"Oh, yes, it's totally possible."

Cristina turned to her, "Do you want to do the coffee and talking thing? Cause right now I have a surgery but…you know…later. If you've got that insatiable urge to worry and moan and even bitch. I mean, normally I'm not okay with that but it's okay to be a little freaked here. It is your kid, fine. But you can't let it get to your game. Thank God you don't have surgery today."

"No, blame our husbands."

"Damn the mommy-tracking. One day, Mere, we will fight the power." Cristina snapped the chart shut. "Seriously. We can do the coffee thing later, if you want, fine. But right now I have to cut up a guy's pancreas."

Meredith grinned. "No, that's good…You know what? You cheered me up already. This'll do."

"Kay." Cristina started heading towards the surgery wing. "I'm going to be done at about sixish—do you want to go shopping with me afterwards and tell me how the appointment went?"

"Yeah, sure. Shopping? What for?"

"Cooper's baptism." Cristina rolled her eyes. "I'll page you."

"Kay. Thanks." They came to a break in the hallways and parted.

Meredith headed to Kaitlin Baxter's room to grab the chart for Derek. A nurse, Sara, was already in there, checking her vitals. Kaitlin was quietly reading Pride and Prejudice. "Fluff reading," she said as Meredith came in. "Helps take my mind off—everything."

"I was always a major Darcy fan." Meredith responded lightly.

"Me, too. But Bingley…just always annoyed me. Any page with him on it, I almost have to flip past." Kaitlin shut the book. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to grab your chart…interns been keeping up with you?"

"They've been good…Doing the tests, running things here and there…" Kaitlin sighed.

"Where's your sister?"

"She and Hallie are out eating lunch. Not really a healthy environment for a baby, you know."

"True." Meredith conceded. She grabbed the chart to give to Derek later. "Any questions about the procedure?"

"No, still scheduled for Thursday?" Kaitlin smiled as Meredith nodded. "I think I remember everything. Besides, isn't the other Dr. Grey the one that's supposed to be doing this part? You're just supposed to cut."

Meredith nodded again, a little smile on her lips. "Surgeons are only allowed to work with unconscious patients for a reason—the God complexes would make patients kill us if they were awake."

"So what are you doing?" Kaitlin's question unnerved Meredith.

"Getting your chart." She replied quickly, waving it lightly around. "Gotta check a few things, make sure everything's set. Her tennis shoes squeaked on the way out.

Leaning against the wall, she turned when she heard a voice. "Grey," Bailey said. "Are you all right?"

She straightened. "Yeah. Totally. I'm fine."

"Yeah. Sure." Bailey walked on by. "I need an intern. Have you seen Cass?"

"Surgery with Derek."

The day seemed to be unending. Finally, it was lunchtime. Avoiding Izzie, she decided to corner George instead. "I heard you're moving to Kansas City," she said, without preamble, plopping in the chair next to him.

George placed his tuna salad on wheat carefully down on his tray and dabbed his mouth. "Who—who said that?" he bumbled.

"The interns."

"Damn them."

"So it's true."

"I'm being—approached." He said carefully. "They'd give Kayla nurse-manager of peds, too—it's tempting."

"George," Meredith said.

"What?" he half-whined.

"You're honestly thinking—about doing this?"

"Yes. It's tempting. It's a job, with perks. And prestige. It's a good move professionally. They're not a huge hospital, but it's nothing to scoff at."

"George!"

"What's your problem, Mere?" he said, using his half-exasperated, half-patient George voice.

"It's—we stick together, okay?"

"Mere—we're not interns anymore. It's not our little merry band against the world. Iz and Alex went away, for two years. It happens. Grown-upness happens."

"They were always going to come back. Is that part of your plan?"

"I don't know what my plan is." He pulled a piece of lettuce from his sandwich and studied it carefully like it was a diseased heart. "I just know that there are options and it's good to keep them open and explore them. We're not you and Derek; with your pedigree and experience and people tripping over themselves to line up at your doors. We're not Preston and Cristina; with the whole damn department underneath us and articles flying out of our asses and speaking engagements that make us jet off to Philadelphia for the weekend; we're not even Alex and Izzie, who have an established practice and regulars and buzz. We're not a power couple the way you three sets are. We're also not tied to this hospital. You guys are. And that's not a bad thing, but maybe we want to see what might happen." He sat back in his chair. "This is a good thing, Meredith."

She suddenly felt incredibly guilty. Licking her dry lips, she said, "I'm happy for you, George. I'm just not happy that you might leave." Her eyes were doeful.

He looked at her compassionately. "Nothing's set, Meredith. Just options."

Izzie came up then, her eyes concerned and sharp. "You've been avoiding me." She told Meredith.

"Why?" George asked Izzie.

Izzie turned to Meredith. "You're my two o'clock. That's why?"

"Is everything alright with the baby?" George said immediately. "It's okay, right?"

Meredith sighed, her head hurting so much she was craving codeine. Or alcohol. Anything to knock her out. "Yes. No. Not yet. So, maybe."

"George, don't press." Izzie cautions. "Meredith, don't freak out—don't be drastic and dramatic—yet. The appointment's not till two."

"Why does everyone keep telling me not to freak out?" Meredith exclaimed, her voice rising. "Have I started freaking out, at all, yet? NO! I'm fine! I'm not freaking out! I'm a doctor, too, and I'm rational, and I'm just waiting. Maybe there's a little trepidation, or something, but honestly! I'm not freaking out yet. And if I am freaking out, it's because people are telling me not to freak out!"

They looked away quietly, and Meredith felt ridiculous, mostly because she knew it was all a lie. "Okay." Izzie said. Her demeanor changed in a snap. "George, why are you leaving us?"

George sighed. "I'm not starting this again. I'm not leaving, not yet anyways. I don't know anything right now." He took a huge bite of his sandwich. "And that's all I'm saying. What's this about Chief Webber coming back to town?"

"I don't know." Izzie was instantly distracted. "But Dr. Bailey said he called her; was coming back from South Carolina. Wanted to see everyone. I think it's in a couple of weeks. Cristina should know more; where is she?"

"Surgery." Meredith stood. "I gotta go check on more patients. I have two surgeries tomorrow and one on Thursday."

"Okay, I'll see you at two." Izzie said nonchalantly. Her words only made Meredith walk a little bit quicker.

Two o'clock came far too quickly for Meredith's taste. She met Derek at the nurses' station, Kaitlin Baxter's folder in hand. "Thanks," he said, "I'll look at this later."

Meredith felt as if she was moving through a very thick gel; the last time she had felt this way had been her mother's funeral. She performed all duties automatically: smile at Izzie, raise her shirt, let the tech rub the salve over her stomach. She gripped Derek's hand and willed the entire ordeal to be over. She had never felt this way, this all-consuming, ice-cold terror, this plea for a conclusion. She saw Izzie smile compassionately, even reassuringly, at her, but her returned smile didn't quite extend to her eyes. She tuned out everything and concentrated on counting the puncture-holes in the ceiling. She let their murmurs float over her, until Izzie said, "Meredith?" in a soft, gentle voice.

"What? Yeah? Sorry. Just zoning here."

"It's alright." Izzie said quietly. "It looks like a CCAM, Meredith."

Meredith scratched her brain trying to remember the acronym, "Congenital..Cystic…"

"Congenital Cystic Adenomatoid Malformation." Izzie said gently. "It's a benign tumor in the lungs. She's got a cystic, echogenic mass in the left lung. Right there."

"Right." Meredith said, her med school texts coming back, "That's okay. Well, it's not okay, but it's not bad, either. It could resolve itself."

"Yes, it could. It's fairly typical. We can't guess it's size or stage yet, but we caught it at twenty weeks—that's good. It's still fairly small, but we're going to have a echo every Monday and Thursday to track it's growth. The good news is that we can treat it here; you don't need to go to another hospital like UCSF or something." Izzie said. "You can go about your normal routines, everything. The same pregnancy warnings apply, though. Seriously. Take it easy. There's a chance that it will just dissolve, or just not grow as the baby becomes larger. Most of the time it can be treated after birth. If it becomes larger, though, and there is evidence of hydrops, you're going straight to the OR. You'll be fine, though. That's only in ten percent of the cases. We'll just keep monitoring it, okay? You'll be good, Meredith." Izzie patted Mere's hand, her amber eyes burning into Mere's grey ones.

"Any chances for preeclampasia?" Derek asked knowledgably, worriedly, and Meredith was suddenly thrown with the memory that his first wife dealt with this, that he knew everything from helping Addison study late in their med school careers.

"Only if she has to have surgery and then if the surgery goes awry." Izzie said.

"Let's not talk about the surgery." Meredith said. "There's a small chance there and it's being monitored and so let's just not talk about hydrops or preeclampasia or anything like that."

"Mere." Izzie said straightforwardly. "No matter what, it's not going to be easy. There's going to be a lot of surgeries involved. Even in the best-case, you're having a C-section, which I know for a fact you didn't want. Best-case in this case is far from ideal. There might be some touch-and-go, but we can do this, okay? We got it."

"Izzie, please. I got it. I'm good. Can we wash this off, actually? I have patients still to see. Thank you." Meredith said, straightening as the tech moved towards her. "I'm a doctor. A surgeon. The worst part will be staying in my own hospital."

Izzie's look was cautious and pursed, but she didn't say anything. "We'll schedule you for an ultrasound next Monday." Dr. Renard finally offered.

"Great. I'll take it up with the receptionist." Meredith shifted. "Thank you guys."

She began to walk out, when Derek grabbed her hand. "Are you okay with this?"

"Well, no, not exactly, but I'm being optimistic." Meredith said. "Why?"

"Mere—these things can be bad. Not always, but sometimes."

"I know. I got it."

"Well, you're being awfully blasé about it all."

"Stress is bad for the baby." Meredith said, shrugging it off. "I'm fine. A little shaken, but I'm fine. And the baby's fine. She's going to be fine. We have a nursery. And names on a list. And a good prognosis. And you know what? This will work, Derek." She looked at his doubting eyes. "What?"

"You're just…taking it well," he said finally.

"It's a nice change, isn't it?" she said flirtily. When he still seemed reluctant, she kissed his cheek. "Listen. We've been through a lot. And we made it. So this…thixs baby….is a good thing. And I'm not going to let some possibly temporary possibility of a setback detract me from this. This is bad, yes, but we've been through worse. And this is a medical problem, one that has a solution. Yes, it's not ideal, but I'll take it over no baby. We'll make it work." She looked him straight in the eyes, willing him to understand. "Come on. I'll take it even easier. Like, four surgeries a week. That's it. And they'll be short, and I'll get lots of rest, and I won't even go near the pit. We'll be fine, Derek."

He seemed not to believe her, but finally something changed in his eyes. "Awright." He said gruffly. He kissed her cheek. "Tell Preston. It might affect work. And tell Lexi too; the gossip will get to her and she'll worry."

"We're not telling everyone." Meredith cautioned.

"Right. But there might be gossip and you don't like to talk to her too much when things are weird. But she'll hear things and she has a sort of a right to know." Derek countered.

"Fine. Okay. I'm going shopping with Cristina tonight; I'll be later but I'll call you. When's your last surgery?"

"No more today, but I have one that starts at eight tomorrow." Derek kissed her cheek. "I'll see you later. I love you."

"I love you too." She turned to go before stopping. "Derek." When he looked up, she said, "It. Will. Be. Fine." Then, she stuck out her tongue, just to try to make him laugh. He did—his eyes lit up and he grinned the 'McDreamy,' as Izzie had dubbed that particular look. She smiled. He believed her, and she almost believed herself, too.