Here it is, guys, chapter 10! And I just have to say that there are some MAJOR developments in this little chapter….like monumental developments. Seriously, seriously huge. So…in order to get me to write chapter 11, you simply MUST review. Consider it a bribe, or blackmail, or whatever. My artistic ego is ravenous! And please forgive all of the spelling and grammatical errors. It hasn't been beta'd.

I hope you enjoy it…I know I enjoyed writing it.

Only Shonda and ABC own the characters of Grey's Anatomy. It's a shame, really.

Chapter 10: Prime Real-Estate

His hands slipped off of the wood-grain and leather steering wheel and fell deftly to his lap as his eyes focused on the front door of the home that Izzie Stevens shared with Meredith Grey. He wasn't sure exactly what kind of reaction he was going to get from Izzie when she saw him, today of all days. He could only predict her emotions, kind of like the local weather man predicting Seattle's weather (which in his opinion was a rather easy job, since all it seemed to do was rain in this God forsaken city.) Izzie would either a.) yell at him to 'get the hell out and leave her the hell alone", b.) wear out Grey's oven by her nonstop baking, or c.) she would … well, he wasn't really sure what kind of action would take place with option c. And if he were honest with himself, (which lately, he found himself being rather often…) he was rather terrified of the unknown. Izzie was unpredictable like that; she was a lot like the old cliché "as unpredictable as the weather." She could go from being a blue cloudless sky, full of sunshine that warmed the darkest corner of your crummy, bleak soul and then suddenly change in a blink of a moment where the skies were ominously grey and black, with a downpour of rain drops so brittle they touched every nerve. She was magnificent like that.

And it didn't help that he found himself with a case of nerves. Which, in his opinion, was odd, if one knew him; there was one thing that was a constant: Mark Sloane did not get nervous around women. He was a skilled maestro with the female sex. With a flick of his wrist, and a curve of his finger, he could conduct any female to keep time with him, and swell to crescendos that were so powerful, so lyrical they touched one to the very core of their being, like one of Beethoven's many symphonies. He was that good.

But, it seemed, that once again, all of his knowledge of the ladies flew out of that metaphorical window, as he tried to grow the balls to go to Isobel Stevens. He'd seen her angered and passionate, her eyes full of laughter, and he'd held her crumpled body shaking with sobs over the loss of her dead fiancé. It was something he hadn't wanted to revisit anytime soon. He hated female tears. They made him uncomfortable and unsure. And one thing he'd discovered recently was the fact that he hated seeing those warm rivulets of salty water fall from a certain pair of doe brown eyes. It was something that he found he just couldn't take. It was strange and foreign, and altogether miserable. Just the idea of her floating in misery made him want to float down that river of misery right along with her.

It was a truth that was incredibly unsettling and new, and one that would have made him turn around and run if he was the old Mark. But he wasn't the old Mark. He's the new Mark and so, here he was at 8:30 in the morning, sitting alone in his car, staring at Izzie Stevens' front door, trying to formulate a plan of how to make this day just a little bit easier for her.

His eyes suddenly slid to his blackberry resting in the console between the seats and an idea began to take shape. It was something that he had briefly considered and toyed with, he'd even made a call or two, but at the time he was rather unsure of the idea. But, now, as his eyes slid back to the Craftsman style house that one blonde inhabited, he was sure.

He scrolled through the numbers in his address book until he found the one he was looking for. Pressing the "call" button, he waited until he heard a familiar voice.

"Yes, Steven. This is Dr. Mark Sloane, I talked to you a few weeks ago…yes, I'm doing fine thank you. Listen, I know that this is very short notice, but I would like to see what you have to offer…today. Yes, I know it's last minute…would 10:30 work? Fantastic. Thank you. I'll see you then."

Hanging up the phone, his eyes slid back to the house, as his hand took the keys out the ignition. He now had the perfect plan to help Izzie Stevens lighten her emotional load. Now, all he needed to do was persuade her to go along with it.

"Iz…?"

He stood next to Meredith Grey outside of Izzie's room, while she knocked on the door. They waited anxiously holding their breaths for an acknowledgement of their disturbance from the woman inside the shelter of her room. Meredith's blue gray eyes met his as she shrugged her shoulders.

He knew that he had surprised her when she'd opened the door to find him standing on her front porch, but the surprise had quickly turned into a look of relief as she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. She'd briefly told him that she hadn't seen her roommate yet, since she liked to sleep in on her days off, and that she was very reluctant to wake Izzie just to check on her mental state and to remind her that today was the sixth month anniversary of Denny's death in the process. He didn't blame her, but he promptly told Meredith that he needed to see her, because after all, the two of them had a schedule to keep.

That had only received a pointed look of incredulity, but she led him up the stairs to Izzie's room. And there the two of them were, waiting for a reply from the woman behind the closed door. Meredith knocked again.

"Izzie, sweetie, are you awake?"

The both leaned in to tying to hear a response, any kind of response. Mark found himself waiting with baited breath and rolled his eyes. This was getting ridiculous. He turned to Meredith, "Is the door locked?"

"I don't know. Probably not. I haven't really checked. I respect my roommate's right to privacy," she said to him with an arched eyebrow.

Mark only rolled his eyes in return. Lifting his fist, he pounded on the door three times. "Izzie, I'm counting to three and I'm coming in!"

He turned the knob. It wasn't locked. Good…this made his job easier. "ONE… TWO…" and Mark opened the door and barged into to Izzie's room, to find her hopping out of bed in nothing but a white tank top and a pair of red panties.

"Good God! Haven't you any decency!?" Izzie yelled at him as she grabbed a pillow to cover herself. He watched as she narrowed her eyes at him. "What happened to counting to three THEN coming in?"

Mark smirked. "It's all in the element of surprise. I was hoping you're one of those 'sleep in the buff' types and that'd I'd finally get to at least see one of your boobs."

She rolled her eyes at him and looked at her roommate, accusingly, as she started searching her floor for something. "Why did you let him in here?"

Mark picked up a pair of pink flannel bottoms with dancing poodles on them and snickered. "Looking for these?" He laughed inwardly as Izzie grabbed them out his hands and narrowed her eyes at him once more.

"He wanted to see you." Meredith simply shrugged and turned around. "I have to get to work. Bailey said I could come in at 9:30 today since I stayed overtime last night. I better get going. Um, if you…if you need anything, just call me..."

"I'll be fine…tell…everyone that I'll be fine…" Izzie's words dropped off and she immediately began picking up her pillows to make up her bed. Mark's eyes traveled to Izzie and saw that her shoulders were set with tension.

"Well, um…ok, then. I'm off. I'll see you later."

Mark met Meredith's eyes before she left the room and nodded at her, letting her know that he had everything under control. His eyes turned back to the busy blonde and watched her as she picked up her room. He propped his hip against her desk and waited for her to speak. He was going to follow her lead until he found the perfect opening to put his plan into action.

His eyes surveyed the room, taking in the décor of Izzie's personal space. Her room was a light coral color and had random paintings and photos placed against the walls. It was obvious that every piece in her room was distinctively individual instead of a "set" and was rather a hodge podge of furniture. It worked and made the space uniquely hers. He turned to the desk and picked up a photo in a wooden frame. It was a candid shot of the rag-tagged team of interns, all five of them, out on the town it seemed. They were laughing, all with smiles that were bright . . . especially hers. Her face was the only facing the camera, her hair up in some sort of style and her lips were a bright red. Just her image captured in the photo demanded attention first, which wasn't much unlike the woman in the flesh.

"Don't you have surgeries today, Mark?" She asked grumpily as she turned to him after putting her last pillow back into it's proper spot. She had bed head, her curls large from her head's contact with a pillow, and she didn't have a stitch of make up on. He couldn't help but smile inwardly at just how cute and cranky she was this morning. "I thought you had Mr. Archfield's wife's breast implants today…"

His eyebrow quirked at that and placed the picture back in it's spot. "You're remembering my surgeries now, Iz? I'm impressed."

She gave him an annoyed look. "No, I just happen to remember that one because you kept talking about how hot she was and 'how it was an injustice for a woman her age to be married to a man in his seventies'…It disgusted me, so I remembered."

"Well, it turns out that she had to cancel because of some surprise trip to the Hamptons that she just couldn't pass up…she reschedule it for next month. And it is an injustice to see a young woman married to a dried up old crone like Archfield…"

"You better watch out…that's the man that owns the hotel you're staying at," she said as she shoved her feet into bunny slippers.

"Bunny slippers, Stevens? How old are you, twelve?" He asked laughing.

Izzie cut her eyes at him. "Yes, bunny slippers. They were a Christmas gift from George."

Mark snickered.

Izzie went on, indignant. "And…don't you know you're never supposed to ask a lady her age…"

She went out into the hall and Mark got up to follow her. She eyed him suspiciously. "Did Meredith ask you to stay with me today? Because you don't have to…I'm fine. I don't need someone to baby-sit me. I'm an adult."

Mark looked at her confused. He decided to play innocent. Izzie had never mentioned the date of Denny's death to him, they'd talked about him about very little. The only things he knew about their relationship was the information he'd gained from hospital gossip and that little bit she'd told him that night on the bench, the night that had started this unique relationship between the two.

"Well, that's good to know, but I actually came by because I need a favor…" He said as he stopped at the bathroom door and leaned against the doorjamb. Izzie's hand paused as she reached for her toothbrush and her eyes turned to him in a look of subtle disbelief and interest.

"What kind of favor? Because I'm not really in the mood to perform any sexual favors at the moment…you know, since I was so rudely awakened and all…" Izzie said as she put her toothbrush covered with toothpaste in her mouth.

Mark didn't bother hiding his laughter. "No, little Miss Pervert, not that kind of favor, but I may take you up on one of those later…I need the advice and expert opinion of one who's lived in this area her entire life…"

Izzie spit out the foaming paste and turned to him. "What for?"

"Well, I need to find a place to live. I've decided to permanently relocate to Seattle." He watched as Izzie paused her brushing and turned to him in surprise yet again.

"Why? I thought you hated it here…"

Mark slapped a hand over his chest and said sarcastically, "You wound me, Stevens. Couldn't you pretend to even be a little bit happy? Now you'll get to see my handsome face from now on."

"Oh, shut up." She spit out her toothpaste and rinsed out her mouth and turned to him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why are you really doing this . . ." Her eyes grew large. "You're not doing this because you're still hung up on Addison are you? Gah, I swear, Mark we've been over this a million times. You know that she doesn't want—

"Izzie!" Mark yelled her name exasperated, wanting to stop her on her rant about the reasons why Addison no longer wanted him. "No, I am not doing this because of Addison. That ship has long since sailed. It's probably down by the tip of South America now."

"Good." She said simply as she grabbed her brush and started to work the tangles out her hair. Mark was content to just watch her. He didn't know what it was about watching a woman primp, but he'd loved it, ever since he was a little boy watching his mother get ready for a night out for one of her many social functions.

"So, why are you staying then?" She winced as her brush came across a snarl.

"I'm staying because . . . I have a lot of opportunities here. Richard's incredibly supportive of any endeavor I wish to pursue and the surgical unit has become one of the best in the country as you may well know…" His eyes met hers in the mirror. "…and for other reasons."

She held his gaze. "Ah . . . you want to throw your name in for Chief of Surgery then?"

Mark tore his gaze from hers and looked down at his shoes. That's one of the reasons. "Maybe or maybe not. I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

He heard her snicker softly and he returned his eyes to hers. "What . . . you don't think I could do it? You don't think I'd make a good Chief?"

She turned around and propped her hip against the counter, connecting her eyes with his. She smiled at him softly. "I think you've got it in you."

Something swelled inside of him, leaving him breathless for just a moment. There she was…his sunny and cloudless sky, warming him to his innermost depths. Seriously, he had to stop with all the warm, feely metaphors. He was losing his edge. He cleared his throat, "Well, that's good, because I need to find an apartment. And I need you to help me."

"Me? Why me?" She asked, rather surprised.

"Weren't you listening? I need someone who knows the area, who can tell me the hot neighborhoods, and if I'm being screwed over or not."

She looked at him with disbelief. "Mark, if anyone was going to get screwed over, I have a feeling you wouldn't be the one getting screwed."

Mark's eyes narrowed at her. Now she was dark and ominous skies. "You're quite bitchy in the mornings. It doesn't suit you."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Lovely. I'm glad you brushed your teeth so I don't have to smell your bad breath."

He watched as a satisfied smile grew over her lips. "I'm going to get in the shower now."

"Is that an invitation?" His voice dropped to a low pitch as a sly smile formed on his lips.

She sauntered up to him, grabbing a towel behind him while her other hand lowered a strap of her tank top. Stopping just in front of him, she whispered as she placed her now free hands on his chest, "You'll just have to dream, because it's never going to happen."

Mark was promptly pushed out of the bathroom and the door shut in his face. "Make sure you're ready by 10:00!" He yelled through the door with a smile on his face.

Mark was growing exhausted and his nerves were wearing thin. They were standing outside of a tall building of just one of the many apartments/condos/town homes, etc, his realtor had dragged them to. Well…they hadn't been dragged, exactly. Steven had just taken them to every "prime area" in Seattle looking for a place that Dr. Mark Sloane could potentially call home, which translating in realtor talk, mean that he had a potential high commission for the savvy realtor.

But none of them had been "just right" according to Izzie. She gave her opinions freely which honestly had surprised him at first. She'd caught things that he'd never have thought of to notice. But after the third place shown to him, and one that he'd actually somewhat liked, she had rather confidently said "hmm…this is better than the last one, but don't you have one better for Dr. Sloane? This is a little shabby." Both he and the realtor had to bite their tongues. For a girl who grew up in a trailer park, the chick had discriminating tastes when it came to finding him a home.

And after the fourth one shown to them had received a failing mark, he'd dragged her into the half bath, and had a few words with her. He was actually rather proud of himself for keeping his mouth shut for so long, but after her snide remark about the color of tile used in the back splash in the kitchen, he'd lost it. He'd told her that he was the one shelling out the money for the place and that if he wanted an apartment with beige colored tile back splash and dark green granite counter tops, then he'd get it. And to that, she simply replied, "Fine. But you'll have one of the ugliest kitchens ever."

And she'd been silent for the last twenty minutes as they made their way to the next property. Silence from Izzie Stevens was something he'd never thought he'd experience. And he had to admit, that right in that moment, he was enjoying it.

"This is The Cosmopolitan, as you can tell it's right in the heart of the city, just a few blocks from Pike Place Market, some of the hottest restaurants, and other city attractions. The Cosmopolitan has two clubrooms, a fitness area, as well as a rooftop area that houses a pool. Now, the unit I'm about to show you has the most phenomenal views of the city. Would you like to see it now?"

"Yes, I'd love to." He looked to Izzie and let her walk before him. The lobby was spectacularly decorated with a contemporary style in warm hues of dark browns, golds, and reds, marble floors, and stainless steel accents. Judging by the lobby, he could tell instantly he was going to like the unit he was about to see.

"The unit we're going to look at today is on the 34th floor, it's a two bedroom, two bath penthouse. It's one of the only ones left," Steven said to them as they got on the elevator.

"I hope you're not afraid of heights," Izzie muttered under her breath.

Mark slid his eyes towards her. "I lived in the Trump Tower in Manhattan. Of course I'm not afraid of heights."

The realtor opened the door for them and stepped aside to allow them into the apartment. Izzie stopped short, nearly causing him to bump into her.

"Oh, my God! This is…" She stopped and turned to him, awe written all over her face.

Mark found he was speechless as well. They had stepped into a room surrounded with windows offering panoramic views of the city. It was spacious and open, and absolutely beautiful. The floors were made of a medium toned, warm oak, and there was a fire place. He loved fire places.

"I have to say this is one of the best views of the city," Steven said coming up behind him. "If you look to your left, you can see the Space Needle and over there, to you right, you can see Mt. Ranier and the Puget Sound. Incredible, isn't?"

"Yes, it is," he said softly as he took in the city before him, covered in the soft glow of the afternoon sun.

"Look at the kitchen!" His eyes went to Izzie who had made her way behind the counter and was running her hands over the smooth grey granite. The kitchen was modern with dark cabinets, stainless steel and top of the line appliances, set against a black slate back splash. "This kitchen is every cook's dream…"

He went over and joined her behind the counter. "Yeah, it is. Too bad I don't cook."

She cut her eyes at him and laughed. He turned to his left and pointed, "Oh, thank God, there's a wine cooler."

"Ah, yes, because a wine cooler is an absolute must," she said sarcastically.

"You know it…and did you see the wet bar over there? I gotta have my wet bar."

She chuckled. "You really are such an alcoholic."

"Would you two like to see the rest of the penthouse now?" Steven's question quieted them as they turned to look at him in surprise. Mark had forgotten he was there.

"Yes, that'd be great."

The two of them followed him into the other rooms that were equally impressive. The master bedroom and bath had instantly sold him. The rooms were spacious, with clean lines, and decorated in a color palate that was extremely his style. He'd laughed out loud when Izzie's eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw the closet. It was impressive and in her own words, "almost orgasmic."

Even he was shocked at just how much bang for the buck he was getting. Housing was so expensive back in Manhattan. In Seattle, he was going to get a place twice the size of his in New York and for half the price.

They were now following the realtor up to the rooftop to take in the views. Steven turned to them once they walked out into the open air and took in the view of the city around them. "I'm going to give you some time to think about the property. I'm going to go back down into the unit to make a phone call to one of my partners. If you need me, that's where I'll be."

It was just the two of them now, alone on the roof. He stood in his place as he watched Izzie walk to the railing and lean against it, her back to him. All that he could see of face was her profile, touched by the afternoon sunlight. The wind was blowing her curls and he watched as one of her hands lifted to tuck one of the strands behind her ears.

He never really had an opinion on curly or straight hair before. He'd just known that he loved hair in vibrant colors. His mother's was jet black, shiny and silky, from her father's Italian roots. He'd inherited his father's light, sandy colored brown hair, which he'd always thought was kind of boring. But he'd always loved women's hair, the softness of it, the smell. Addison's was a vibrant red. He'd seen it go from brown, to blonde, and back to red again. She said she hated her red hair, but she always came back to her natural color and he knew that she thought her hair was her crowning glory, though she'd never admit it.

And now he was studying Izzie's hair. It was blonde, and he'd never really paid much attention to blonde hair before, partly because most of the blondes he'd encountered were really brunettes, and he guessed he'd never been turned on by the color, mostly due to the fact that most of the time, the blonde color came from a bottle. Yet, he had a strong feeling that her hair color was the real deal.

He closed the distance between them and stood next to her, leaning against the railing. His eyes were once again drawn to hair. He saw the light shine on the different colors varying from a dark honey, to caramelized wheat, to a light cream, all woven together creating a beautiful palate of gold. He liked the way the sun reflected off of her strands.

She turned her face towards him and taking him in as if she was studying him, and she looked as if she wanted to say something. He could see her mind trying to decide if she wanted to speak her mind or keep quiet. Nudging her with his elbow, he encouraged her silently.

"I'm glad . . . that you, um. . ." She paused and he heard her laugh softly to herself before turning to him and connecting her eyes with his.

"You're glad about what . . . ?" He prodded softly.

"I'm glad that you're staying . . . in Seattle." He watched as she rubbed her hands over her arms to fend off the slight chill from the breeze and waited for her to continue on, barely breathing. "You know . . . you and I . . .we get each other. It's so weird, but, we do. I mean . . . you're egotistical and you can be an ass, and you can piss me off like no other, but . . . you get me. Like today. . . .all I wanted to do today was to stay in my bed, but you dragged me out, to go on an apartment hunt, and you completely took my mind off of everything . . ."

He felt his heartbeat speed up at her words.

"I haven't once felt sad or sorry for myself, since I've been with you. You've aggravated and annoyed me, and you've somehow managed to make me laugh . . . " she looked at him, her eyes warm and she moved closer to him as she hooked one of her arms around his, " . . . you've just made me feel . You don't know how long it's been since I've felt anything but emptiness . . .And I haven't felt empty one time that I've been with you."

Her words dropped off as one tear, followed by another fell down her cheeks, and her watery brown eyes met his. "This has been one hell of a year and I've nearly lost it all . . . and it's been really hard dealing with it all . I've tried to be strong, to keep it all together. But I can't help but feel like I've lost a little bit of me through it all."

He lifted his hand to her face and wiped away her tears and noticed just how soft her skin felt under his fingers. He wanted to say something, anything, but he found that he'd lost his capability of speech. And so, he just stood there, and cradled her face with one of his hands.

"You help me to forget." Her breath was soft and warm against his palm, her lips tickling his hand as she spoke. "So, you see . . . I don't know what I'd have done if you'd gone back to New York." Her eyes turned to him, seeking something and so full of different emotion.

"Izzie . . ." He found he was only able to whisper her name. The weight of her words rested heavily on him as he took in her meaning. She needed him. She needed him to make her forget her pain of the last sixth months and she needed him to make her smile and laugh.

It'd been so long since he'd been simply . . . needed.

He watched as her eyes traveled to his lips and he felt every nerve in his body come alive. Her hand let go of his and he felt her smooth palm run up his arm, caressing him, as it made its way to his shoulder, the other following. He nearly groaned as he felt her fingertips slid up against the skin of his neck and tangling themselves in his hair, pulling his face towards hers, his lips colliding against hers.

Her kiss was warm, passionate, and slow, leaving him senseless. His hands went to her waist and pulled her against him roughly, having to have her against him, his arms encircling her, molding her against him.

His action elicited a moan from her lips and she clung tighter to him, intensifying their kiss. This kiss was nothing like this one she laid on him in the bar. That had been hot, fast, and with the intent of exerting power. But this one . . . this one was entirely different. It was incredibly intense and full unbridled emotion, but it was more about lust and passion. This kiss was born out of need; a need for the other to help them cope, to forget, to cleanse the wounds.

And it wasn't enough for him.

He pulled away sharply and pushed her body away from his, dropping his hold from her. Her lips were swollen red, and her eyes were a dark chocolate colored with desire that was quickly turning to confusion.

"Mark . . . what's wrong? Did I . . . do something wrong?"

His hands itched to touch her, but instead he clinched his fists and held them to his side. "I can't kiss you . . . not like this, Izzie."

"I . . . I don't understand. You seemed to be enjoying yourself . . ."

"Believe me I was . . ." He dropped off and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He moved away from her not able to stand so close to her.

"Well, then . . . why'd you stop?" He could hear the frustration growing in her voice.

He had to ask her. He had to know. "Why did you kiss me?"

" Why did I . . . are you serious!? You're asking me why I kissed you?" Her voice was growing louder with every word.

"Yes! I want to know why you kissed me!"

"What does it matter why I kissed you? Come on, Mark . . . you're McSteamy. You're not supposed to complain when a woman kisses you. You're supposed to shut up and actively participate, remember?"

His eyes narrowed at her and shook his head, saying more to himself than her, "Not anymore. I'm done with that."

She scoffed. "Oh, so you're reformed now? Just when did that happen?"

"I'm not sure exactly, but I'd say it happened within the last couple of weeks." His eyes sought hers. And he knew how it came about and why. He knew exactly why.

He watched as her brows lowered in uncertainty and as myriad of different thoughts played through her mind, all clearly showing in her dark eyes. His eyes followed her movements as she wrapped her arms around her torso, and he was wishing that it was his arms that wrapped around her instead of her own, but he stayed rooted to his spot.

"Why . . . within the last couple of weeks?" He heard her ask meekly.

His blues eyes burned into hers. "I think you know why."

"Because . . . of . . . me?" She shook her head in confusion. "So you're trying be noble now?" She started to pace in an angry circle. "That must be it . . . why else would you stop kissing me. 'Oh! Can't kiss that girl, she's got a dead fiancé. She's damaged goods!"

He grabbed her and made her face him. "Do you think it was easy for me to stop kissing you? Because let me tell you sweetie, it wasn't. If I had my way you'd be panting my name right now . . ."

"Well, then why did you stop? Maybe you can clarify that for me because I'm just a little confused by your logic!"

"You see, Izzie, you're a brat and a pain in my ass. You boss me around and tell me what's constantly wrong with my life. It's annoying . . . unbelievably annoying!" He saw that she was getting offended, but he rushed on. "But somehow, you've come to mean an awful lot to me. I don't know how you did it, but you did. You just bulldozed your way into my life and now, I just can't seem to get it back to normal. And you know what's really crazy about it all, Izzie? It's that I don't want to! And it scares the hell out of me!" She tried to break free from his grasp, but he held on tight, wanting, no needing to lay it all on the line for her.

Mark closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to make her see, to understand.

"Izzie . . . the next time we kiss, I want it to be because I am the only man you're thinking about. I'm tired of it, all, Izzie. I'm so tired of never coming first and always ending up the odd man out. I've played sloppy seconds one too many times and I don't think I can do it to the memory of your fiancé." He dropped his hands from her arms and just stood there, his eyes beseeching hers. "Please, Izzie, don't ask me to do it again."

He hadn't intended on sharing so much with her, not today of all days, but he knew that once the gates were open, there was no way of keeping in this flood of his truths inside of him. He'd held in so many of his emotions for so long and it'd got him nowhere. And now, all he could do for his sanity's sake, was to come clean and expose it all.

And now he was standing, in front of a woman who had come to mean so much to him so quickly, that it had nearly blinded him. He bared it all for her, not really sure of what her reaction would be or if she'd even have one. He'd been weighted down all those years by suppressing his emotions, but now, standing on the roof top of a high rise in the middle of down town Seattle, he'd never felt so free or light, despite his fear of rejection. He'd been honest and it felt good.

She was standing there silent, not meeting his eyes, and all he wanted to do was touch her. Lifting his hand, he cupped her cheek, not denying the swell of hope that was born when she closed her eyes and the small sigh that escaped from her lips.

"I know . . . that I've laid a lot on you, that it's a lot to process. So, the ball is your court now. I'm not asking you to completely forget Denny, I could never ask you to do that. But what I'm asking for is a chance, just one chance . . . I need to know if I have a shot, and you're going to have to tell me . . ." Her eyes flew to his in panic and he gave her a broken smile. "No, not today. I couldn't ask that of you. I want you to be sure, because Izzie, if you give me the green light, I'm going to do everything in my power to win your heart . . ."

He brushed the stray hairs out of her eyes and placed a kiss on her forehead, before resting his against hers. "And, I swear to you, Iz, if you take a chance on me, you'll never regret it . . ."

The sound of an opening door, tore their bodies apart, but their eyes stayed connected to one another. The realtor's voice rang out through the air. "So, Dr. Sloane, have you made a decision?"

Never taking his eyes of Izzie, he answered. "Yes, I'd like to place an offer for it this afternoon." He grabbed her hands and lifted one to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. "I'm here, Iz and I'm here to stay."

So, um, what did you think of IT!? And by "it," you know what I mean! Hee hee. I hope you were happy with it. Let me know! Review!!!