After taking Lanie home to Alex, Addison headed to the hospital to visit Izzie, not entirely understanding why she felt so drawn to do so.

Izzie was lying in her bed, facing the wall. Addison walked around the bed, pulling a chair up in front of her and watching as she slowly came awake. The wave of reality crashed into Izzie's waking self all at once, and she moaned Doug's name.

"Iz?" Addison reached out a gentle hand and tried to turn her face forward. "Izzie? It's me, Addison."

A solitary tear ran down Izzie's face, and Addison found herself crying right along with her friend. Her vision blurred through the tears as Izzie whispered, "What's…going on?"

Addison shook her head, choking on her words slightly as she answered, "There was an…an…incident, Iz, do you remember?"

Izzie buried her head in the pillow, shaking her head. "No. That was a dream, Addie. It was just a dream. I don't believe it; I can't believe it…I won't. It was a dream." Lifting her head slightly, she met Addison's eyes in search of reassurance that Addison wasn't able to give. "It was a dream," she said, not quite as certain. "You have to tell me it was a dream."

"Iz…"

Izzie rolled over so that she was flat on her back and lifted her shaking hands in front of her face, checking over the bandages. "It…It was all real, wasn't it?"

When she looked to Addison for confirmation, Addison nodded slowly. "Yes," she whispered.

Seeming to sink back into the pillow, Izzie's eyes grew very dark as they held on to unshed tears. "I keep going back in forth…I'm numb; I'm not, I…It's all…Where am I supposed to go?" she asked very quietly. "What am I supposed to do now?"

It was a lot stickier for Izzie, and Addison wasn't at all sure of what to say. "I don't think there are any easy answers."

"I loved him, Addie," she said, turning so that her words almost disappeared into the pillow. "I know that you might not understand that, but I did. And I tried to hate him…but I don't know how."

"You shouldn't have to hate your son," Addison answered quietly, even though she was pretty sure that she herself hated him.

"He took my husband."

"I know," Addison replied, for lack of any better words.

"He planned it, did you know that? After sitting down for breakfast with me that morning, after shoving a pop tart in his pocket…he went to school and shot all those people. He shot my husband. And then, as I stood there and watched, he told me he loved me while he shot himself in the head."

Addison was at a total loss for words. "I wish that I knew what to say to you."

"You don't have to say anything," she whispered bitterly. "There's nothing that you can say. I should have seen it coming, Addie, I should have seen it coming, and I didn't. Those kids are all dead because of me. This is all my fault."

"You can't possibly think that, Iz. This isn't your fault."

"I should have known. A mother is supposed to know everything about her child…and I missed this. I totally missed it."

"Iz…"

"Look…I know you mean well, but…I just want to be alone, okay?" She rolled back over so that she was facing the wall away from Addison without waiting for any response.

Addison grabbed her purse and coat and walked out the door.

OoooooooooooooooO

"Mom?"

Meredith looked up from her book. "Yeah, Rich?"

"What happens to us when we die?"

Frowning slightly, Meredith folded down the corner of her book and set it aside. "Why…why are you asking me that?" she asked, taken aback that her thirteen year old would be having any concept of death.

"I was just wondering," he answered innocently.

"You have a lot of years yet," Meredith said, forcing the quiver out of her voice. "You will drive, and graduate high school, go to college, get married have kids. You don't need to worry about dying yet, honey, not for a lot of years."

"But how do you know that, Mom? How do you know?"

As the phone rang again, breaking through Meredith's memories, she very calmly reached over and yanked the cord out of the receiver's base. The ringing ceased as she returned her gaze to the photo album in her lap.

"Derek should be back soon," Rose said as she came into the living room from the kitchen. "He went to…"

"I know," Meredith said softly, breaking in before Rose could finish. "I know where he is."

Rose sat down next to Meredith on the couch. "These are of your son?"

Meredith nodded, sliding the book over slightly so that Rose could see. "I was thinking maybe some photo murals for the funeral tomorrow…but there are so many."

She turned another page, and Rose pointed at one of the pictures. Rich was sitting on the edge of a dock, his feet hanging off into the water. "That one's nice."
"Rich didn't like swimming," Meredith replied. "He only liked to get his feet wet."

"Ah," Rose answered.

"Rose? Your son…did you ever talk about where…what happens when we die?"

"A little bit," she answered. "We talked about heaven. But I was afraid of it…I kept thinking that I had more time. And then, one day, I…I didn't."
"How did you make it stop hurting?"

"I didn't," Rose answered instantly. "It just…It's a little less every day."

"You keep promising that," Meredith said.

"Yes I do," Rose replied. "I believe it. I know it. I lived it, Meredith."

"How do I do this?" Meredith whispered, gesturing at the photo album. "How do I sum his life up in a couple of measly pictures?"
"With your heart," Rose answered.