I'm going to incorporate some more couplings, and I'm bringing them into this chapter… it's kind of a medley, with a whole bunch of current snapshots along with some flashbacks. Lots fewer reviews this time… you guys still out there? Just a simple "still reading" note is really helpful, if you have a second.

This chapter's pretty long. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Seven

"Ready?"

"Ready." Deep heavy breaths and a long kiss. His hands in her shirt, which was a little too thin and lacy to be innocent loungewear. More lace underneath her shirt, shaved legs underneath her clingy velour pants, the ones that hung right on her round hips. Their bodies twisted against the door to shut it.

"I'm George."

"Izzie. Isobel Stevens, actually, but I go by Izzie because it's shorter and doesn't include the last name, which is really kind of pretentious anyway. I mean, Stevens? What is this, the military?"

"Um, no, I guess not."

"Oh, and have you tried the eggplant crap they're passing out? It's good, really. Try some." She passed him something soaked in olive oil and wrapped in a cocktail napkin. George slid it into his mouth.

"That is good," George said around a mouthful. Izzie grinned at him.

"Yeah? It is, isn't it?"

"You know, some of the people here have seen a beating human heart," he enthused. "Isn't that amazing?"

"The amazing part," Izzie corrected, "is seeing a heart that's not beating and making it start again."

"Bed," Izzie gasped, her film of a shirt and pants in a pile on the floor next to George's jeans and rock-concert T-shirt.

"That's the idea, isn't it?" He asked, as they fell backwards. Hands everywhere—bourbon-fuzzed memories came back clear, immediate, hot. That's what that felt like. That's why I couldn't stop. Angles and curves fit into their grasps. Straps and elastics were thrown away as skin was thrust against skin. Warmth radiated from their bodies, everything touching and molding around one another.

"Thank you… thank you… yes…" Soft, because no one should hear: this was theirs and only theirs.

"We're friends, George, we're all friends. Meredith happens to be a friend getting over having her heart broken by McDreamy. Don't be mad at her. She's trying."

"It's not me?"

"George, for God's sake, you didn't rape her. She didn't have to do that. She slept with you because she wanted to and she… miscalculated."

"Did I hurt her, Izzie? Did I do this to her? Because right now, Meredith's a mess and I… this isn't me, is it?"

"No. No, she was hurt way before you came along."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Downstairs, Meredith sat in the hallway in front of the door, with no idea of what she was doing or what she expected, only so exhausted she couldn't bring herself to stand up and change out of her work clothes. There were footsteps against wet concrete, and a fist banging at the glass door. Meredith raised her head. There were two figures standing on the front stoop. One was Derek, one was a woman who looked familiar but Meredith couldn't quite place, clutching a baby carried.

"Come in," she said, and Derek pulled the door open. The woman behind him was dressed in jeans and a shiny green raincoat, with her dark red-brown hair pulled back in a rain-soaked bun, and an infant bundled in pink blankets lay in the carrier.

"This is where Alex lives, right?" She asked.

"Um, yeah, right upstairs," Meredith said, not thinking about the fact that she was letting a stranger into her house unquestioned. She's tiny. Derek could take her in a fight.

Derek sat on the floor next to Meredith.

"Did I scare you the other night?"

"With the baby-marriage-rest-of-our-lives thing?"

"Yes."

"Do you want the truth?" Meredith looked at him, anxious. Derek nodded.

"Yes."

"Okay." Meredith took a deep breath. "I'm terrified, Derek. I can't do that now, but I don't want to lose you. I love you."

"I'll wait," Derek told her, settling his arm around her waist. "I won't find someone else. I'll wait for you. But someday, I want to look at a baby and decide whether it has your eyes or mine. Okay?"

"We couldn't keep a dog alive. How do you think we're going to manage a baby?"

"No idea," he admitted. Meredith laughed and rested her head on his shoulder, more comfortable than she could remember having been in months.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Ava looked up at Alex, her fingers entangled in her baby's.

"Yeah, she is," he said, trying to keep false gruffness in his voice. "What are you going to name her?"

"I love the name Alexandra," Ava said, "but one Alex is really enough." The baby's tiny mouth opened in a sob, revealing shiny pink gums. Ava picked her up, bouncing the baby against her chest and cooing until the tears disappeared.

"You're good at that," Alex noted.

"It's a maternal thing." Ava rocked the baby. "Want to hold her?" Without a response, Ava transferred her daughter to Alex's broad, careful arms.

"You're right," he told Ava. "She's beautiful. Just beautiful."

"I came back," Rebecca announced, throwing her florescent, dripping jacket on the floor and setting the sleeping baby down, carefully. "After you never came back for me. I'm here, Alex, because I'm not ready to give up on you. I'm not going to let you leave me. So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to lie down on your bed. I am going to talk to you until I fall asleep or she wakes up, whichever comes first. And I'm settling in. I left my husband. I brought my daughter. Let me stay, Alex, please." She was half-hysterical, whispering so she wouldn't startle the baby but clearly resisting the urge to yell.

"Shh… sit down." She collapsed beside him.

"What's her name?" Alex asked, gesturing towards the carrier.

"Rebecca," she told him.

"Junior?"

"Nope." The adult Rebecca settled into the crook of his arm. "I'm Ava now."