Author: shli

Daughters

For a large part of our lives, particularly during adolescence and the years right after we've left the nest, our parents are, frankly, a constant annoyance. The numerous phone calls at the most inconvenient times; the horrid "gifts" that they send us and expect to be used; the uncanny way they always seem to know everything – it's a never-ending and ever-present reality of being a daughter or son. So, the primary responsibility of a "good" daughter or son is to put up with this hovering – or, as they like to call it, parenting. For two very simple reasons: one, we love them; and two, failure to comply only leads to the third circle of hell of nagging.

A cold stream of water hit Owen's face, washing away the last vestiges of drowsiness. Though the dial was turned all the way towards the "H," there was no heat left – thanks to a little morning fun in the shower with Cristina that had been cut short when Cristina got paged for a heart transplant. Damn pager.

So, Owen was left with an hour to spare before work, a serious case of blue balls, and no hot water. However, he realized that it was probably a good thing that they'd used up all the hot water. Just thinking about their early morning delight was proving that the cold shower was a necessity for Owen. Down, boy, Owen thought – literally and figuratively. It wouldn't bode well for his reputation as the consummate professional if he walked into the ER with a raging hard-on.

After ridding himself of the remaining soap suds and arousing thoughts, Owen quickly ran a towel through his wet hair then secured it around his hips as he got ready for work. His mind wandered from the stack of paperwork he'd had waiting on his desk to what he was going to make Cristina for dinner that night. Same old, same old.

Suddenly, the sound of the phone ringing shocked him from his thoughts. For a moment, the tone disoriented him because it was neither his pager nor his cell phone. Finally, he recalled that he and Cristina had gotten a landline out of habit, though they rarely used it.

"Hello?" he answered, cradling the wireless phone against his shoulder as he slipped on a pair of jeans.

"Hello?" a confused older woman on the other side responded. Owen heard her mutter quietly to herself, "Did I dial the wrong number? No. This is the number she gave me. It'd be just like her to give me the wrong phone number…"

In a rush, Owen interrupted the self-directed dialogue. "Ma'am? May I ask who you are trying to call?"

"I'm calling for Cristina Yang. She's not answering her cell phone, so I thought I'd try her new home number. But apparently, this is not it."

"No, this is it. She's not here right now. Can I take a message?" Quickly slipping on a t-shirt, Owen then grabbed a pen and a random piece of paper.

There was a pregnant pause.

"Hello?" Owen repeated.

"Who is this?" the female caller rather curtly asked after a moment.

"Uh…This is Owen. Who is this?" he returned with caution. The woman seemed quite perturbed to hear his voice instead of Cristina's. As he waited for a response, he tugged on the last of his clothing and shoes. Walking to the fridge, he contemplated whether he had enough time to make himself some breakfast.

"Cristina's mother."

He froze with his fingers on the refrigerator handle. "Oh! Mrs. Rubenstein. I'm sorry. Um, Cristina is in the middle of surgery. Was there something you wanted me to pass along to her?" Owen could feel his heart jump to his throat and his palms start sweating. He'd faced down flying bullets and bloody carnage with calm and clarity, but the sound of his girlfriend's mother's voice flustered him incomprehensibly. Anyone who could shrink Cristina down to size and into any semblance of submission was definitely someone to be reckoned with. Cristina had looked completely drained – and extremely frazzled – after the last phone call he'd witnessed between her and her mother.

"No, it was nothing important… I'm sorry, but how do you know my daughter? Do you work at Seattle Grace?"

And what was this stranger doing in her daughter's apartment? Owen could almost hear the unspoken question.

This was definitely not the first impression he'd had in mind when it came to meeting Cristina's mother. Of course, he hadn't realized that Cristina had not told her mother anything about him. But from the bits and pieces he'd gathered about Cristina's relationship with her mother, he was not too surprised about the omission.

"Yes. I'm the Head of Trauma. I'm Cris – your daughter's – boyfriend."

"How long have you two been dating?"

"For a while, ma'am," intentionally being vague.

"What? How could she not tell me? Lying to her mother! Just wait till I get her on the… And you two are living together?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"But she's so messy. And she's useless in the kitchen… She hasn't scared you off with her terrible habits?" There was genuine shock in her voice.

Mrs. Rubenstein's put-down irritated Owen. "To be perfectly honest, ma'am, her ability to clean or cook has nothing to do with why I'm living with her – or why I'm in love with her."

For a moment, Owen thought he'd angered the other woman with his thinly veiled chastisement and had provoked her into hanging up on him. Yet, he couldn't muster up any regrets. He didn't take too kindly to anyone criticizing Cristina in such a manner, especially her own mother.

"I believe you," she finally decided. "And call me Helen. 'Ma'am' makes me feel old."

"Helen, I'm actually leaving for work right now. I can tell Cristina to call you back when I see her." And more importantly, to warn her off that he'd told her mother that they were not only dating but also living together.

"It's fine. I will just call her cell phone again… See you soon, Owen." And she hung up.

Owen stared at the phone for a minute, all thoughts of breakfast long gone. He'd completely lost his appetite. Did she really mean "see" me soon? An involuntary shiver of trepidation echoed through his body. If the day ever came that Helen Rubenstein stopped by for a visit, he knew that a stiff drink (or two) would be in order for him and Cristina both.

Cristina stretched her arms above her head and yawned as she walked out of the scrub room. Jackson followed closely behind.

"Great job in there, Yang. Thanks for letting me scrub in and assist."

Cristina nodded. It was still an odd feeling to treat Jackson so nicely. "Uh…you did a good job, too."

Jackson chuckled at Cristina's hesitant compliment. "Talk to you later," he said, looking past her shoulder and directing her attention backward.

"Yeah, sure," she said distractedly as she faced Meredith. "Hey! Did you see me in my cardio goddess glory in there?"

Meredith laughed. "Yeah. Caught the last bit of it after my surgery."

Cristina reminisced. "There's nothing like holding a heart in your hands and feeling it start beating again. Nothing. Okay… maybe a sex marathon with Owen. He's like a caveman…but with finesse. It's hot."

"Maybe you'll get that chance in Paris," Meredith replied coyly.

"Huh…maybe. It would make for a damn good honeymoon activity, that's for sure. Anyway, I should probably call my mother back."

"Oh, is that's who was making your phone go off every five minutes?" During the surgery, Cristina had finally told one of the nurses to put her phone on silent after the sixth time it went off.

"Probably a life and death situation over fabric swatches. I should get this over with…" Cristina sighed as she took out her cell phone.

Meredith stopped the motion by placing a hand on Cristina's wrist. "Speaking of mothers…" Her voice drifted off, but there was a twinkle in her eye.

Cristina stared. "No…"

"Yes."

"Oh my god! Congratulations!" Cristina pulled her friend close and hugged her. She even danced a little in excitement, though she'd never admit it.

Meredith laughed while Cristina put a hand on Meredith's stomach. There was no telltale sign yet, but Cristina was convinced that she could feel the life growing inside. "Okay, this could probably be as awesome as holding a heart in your hand. Does Derek know?"

"Yes. But I told him that he couldn't tell anyone until I told you. You're going to be a godmother."

"And you're going to be a mother. Mer, I'm so happy for you. And I guess for Derek, too." She crouched down and spoke to the growing fetus. "Don't worry, McBaby, I'll make sure that you turn out right."

"Hey!" Meredith interjected indignantly.

"Right. Like you had a great role model." Cristina was about to roll her eyes when she caught the shadow of doubt and fear cross her friend's face. "I'm just kidding, Mer. You'll be fine. You and the baby. I promise." She gave Meredith's wrist a reassuring squeeze.

The glimmer of hope returned to Meredith's eyes. She found solace in Cristina's optimism and support.

"Oh crap… my mother's calling again. I have to get this or else I'll never hear the end of it." She hugged Meredith again. "Congrats, mama bear." Pressing the phone to her ear, Cristina headed toward Teddy's office to update her on the surgery. "Yes, mother?"

Walking toward the Chief's office, Meredith's happiness was still evident on her face. She was surprised that no one had come up to her and checked to see if she was okay. It wasn't as though she had a reputation for being so bright and shiny.

Her smile faltered briefly when she walked across the catwalk. The fear and devastation over seeing Derek getting shot still resonated within her even after all this time. Her hand instinctively went to her stomach.

"Meredith!"

Meredith turned around to see Jackson running after her. She stopped and waited for him to reach her. When he'd caught up to her, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. Um… I just had a free minute, and I was wondering… uh…" Jackson looked down at the ground, and there was a faint blush creeping into his cheeks.

"You were wondering…" She couldn't figure out why he was so nervous.

"Uh… I was wondering how Lexie was doing." He still couldn't meet Meredith's gaze.

Meredith covered her shock – and subsequent awkward pause – by clearing her throat. Though she had gotten a glimpse of Jackson's growing affection for Lexie here and there, she hadn't realized that he'd cared this much. It seemed as though her sister had her share of male attention these days, what with Alex, Mark, and Jackson. It was times like these that Meredith was glad she was out of the dating world and happily Post-It married.

"She's doing better. Being away from where the shooting happened has helped. Dr. Wyatt recommended an outside trauma counseling specialist, and Lexie's been seeing him regularly."

"That's good, that's good. Do you think she's up for visitors?"

"My house is not an institution, Jackson. April's stopped by a couple times. You're more than welcome to come by later." Meredith saw him hesitate and realized the reason behind his hesitation. She continued, "Alex is on-call tonight."

"Yeah, thanks. I'll do that." Jackson gave Meredith a grateful smile and ran off, leaving her to contemplate the idea of Jackson with Lexie. Though she didn't want Alex hurt, she had to admit that she definitely wasn't against the idea. In fact, now that she'd thought about it, she was surprised that it hadn't happened sooner.

When Owen finally saw Cristina after having been sidetracked by the incoming trauma in the pit for over an hour, he had pretty much accepted that Cristina's mother had beaten him to the punch in reaching Cristina. This was confirmed with the frantic look in Cristina's eyes as she approached him. Apparently, she'd been looking for him just as intently.

Before he could even open his mouth to speak, she exclaimed, "You spoke to my mother?" Owen glanced around, seeing if they'd drawn anyone's attention. Thankfully, the corridor was mostly empty. But just in case, Owen led Cristina into an empty supply closet.

The change in setting didn't stop her. "What did you tell my mother? She's been talking my ear off about how I don't tell her anything. And if it weren't for Teddy, I'd still be talking to her."

"Wait, what does Teddy have anything to do with this?"

"I was on my way to her office when I called. I kept trying to hang up, but I just couldn't. That would just make her call me back and yell at me for hanging up on her. So, finally, Teddy took the phone and told her that I needed to save someone's life and hung up on her for me."

Owen was impressed. Of course, Teddy wasn't exactly invested in being liked by Cristina's mother, so she had an advantage. "What did she say?"

"That she thought her mom talked a lot, but mine had hers beat."

"No, what did your mother say?"

"Oh. That she can't believe I didn't tell her about you or the new place. I think she was more upset about the new apartment. She was going on and on about how I probably picked clashing colors and hopelessly messed up the feng shui."

"That's good." Cristina raised a quizzical eyebrow. Owen qualified, "Not the rambling on about the apartment part, obviously. But I'm glad that she wasn't upset over the idea of you and me."

"Why would she be?"

"I don't know… You didn't tell her about me, which is fine, but I thought…"

"Owen, I don't tell my mother what goes on in my life because she's a meddler. She's a nosy, annoying, irrational meddler who drives me crazy. And the less she knows, the better things are; so, I didn't tell her about you. The last time I called her was to tell her that I was okay after the shooting. We are not like you and your mom. We don't talk every week, we don't visit each other multiple times in a month. I call her for big things, like shootings or pregnancies…or weddings. Though, I don't know if I'm going to make that mistake again."

"What mistake?"

"Letting her know that I'm getting married. That didn't turn out so well the last time. When we get married, I do not want to end up with a church wedding and a white frilly dress. No freakin' way. Did I mention the no eyebrows?"

Owen's heart was racing. He didn't think Cristina realized that she'd just said "when" they got married. When. Not if. As if it was part of their future plan.

He nodded in reply, brushing past the slip of the tongue. The last thing he wanted to do was to frighten her off over the idea.

"No, I think I'm going the courthouse route this time. Just quick and dirty. You, me, Meredith, and the judge. And I guess you could invite Derek. And your mom. Just not my mom. Though, she'd probably force us to have some big fancy wedding afterward, but at least I'd have already done it my way. What do you think?"

"I like quick and dirty. In fact, I can give you some quick and dirty now…" he murmured, stepping closer to nuzzle her neck.

She laughed and placed her hands on his chest. "Mmm… Rain check? I've got to check on Teddy's post-ops. But hold that thought till the end of my shift. Then, I'll show you quick and dirty – or at least dirty." And just to emphasize that promise, she nipped his ear.

"I've been holding the same thought since this morning. I don't know how much longer I can wait."

"Just a little bit longer… It'll be worth it." She ran her finger down his chest, stopping just short of the waistband of his scrubs.

"You really are the devil."

She simply smiled then took a step back. Owen subtly shifted his position to hide the evidence of Cristina's stimulating effect on him.

"Did you come looking for me just to torture me?" Owen asked.

"No. I also wanted to tell you that Meredith's pregnant. And since I'm godmother, you're a shoo-in for godfather. Well, you're up against Mark, but he's a manwhore. Though, Derek knows that he really wants kids after that whole lil' Sloan thing."

"Well, I want kids, too." After a pause, he added, "Eventually." He didn't want to pressure her.

"I know that, but Derek doesn't. Go get all excited and congratulate Derek on the good news. It'll give you the advantage. Make sure to slip in that you love kids. I don't want to be on Team Godparents with Mark."

Owen stifled a chuckle. He loved how Cristina could turn almost everything into some sort of competition.

"What are you still doing here? Go!" she said, giving him a gentle shove in the direction of Derek's office. "Beat Mark."

"Okay, okay. I'm going."

"Do me proud, Hunt!" she called after him, wondering how she could distract Mark for a while longer and keep him from hearing the news. Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. She needed to find Callie.

"Hey, what's going on? Why are you two hugging?" Mark asked as he walked into Derek's office.

Owen and Derek pulled apart. "Hunt's just offering me his congratulations."

"For what? Launching your own hair product line?"

"Haha, very funny. No… Meredith's pregnant."

Mark's jaw dropped. For a fleeting moment, a wave of sadness washed over him as he thought about the grandson he'd had to give up. But he pushed it aside. "That's great news. So, you finally knocked her up. Told you that swirl trick worked."

Derek rolled his eyes, and Owen coughed.

"Hey, wait a minute," Mark continued. "How did Hunt find out first? I've been your friend for much longer. What happened to seniority rules?"

"Cristina told me," Owen explained.

"That's not fair! I don't have the inside scoop anymore. I mean, with Lexie, she was in on the latest gossip. Most of the time. I've got Torres, but she's been too busy with her baby drama with Robbins. Actually, I would've gotten here much sooner if it hadn't been for Torres. She thought I'd paged her for a consult – which I didn't. And somehow, she ended up crying about how she and Robbins were really broken up this time. How she wanted to be with Robbins but she also really wanted a baby. It never ends. All day and all night. Back at the apartment and here. Hunt, you were smart to move. It's driving me insane."

Derek let his old friend ramble on about his problems. He was used to it. Somehow the topic of any conversation always ended up being about Mark in some way.

"I wonder if Torres is going to start considering getting a sperm donor…" Mark trailed off, giving serious thought to the idea.

"Please tell me you're not considering offering up your services," Derek replied.

"I've got some premium DNA. Torres would be so lucky."

Owen scoffed at Mark's arrogance. Personally, he would be concerned more about another three-letter acronym when it came to Mark Sloan: STD. But he kept silent.

"Right," Derek said, shaking his head.

Derek's sarcasm didn't faze Mark in the least. "But if donating my swimmers means that I have to survive the pregnancy hormones… Oh man, and with Callie, you just know that those mood swings would be insane. She's already a little, you know…" Mark gestured instability with his hands. "…emotional."

"Thank you for the words of comfort."

"Oh, right. I'm sure Meredith won't go all psycho on you." But Mark's tone was far from convincing.

Derek was not blind to Meredith's past. If anything, it showed her to be more emotionally unstable than Callie ever was. She hadn't earned her reputation for being dark and twisty over nothing. But since they'd gotten married, she'd seemed to have put all that baggage far behind her.

Owen chimed in. "I'm sure Cristina can help in that department. They speak the same language. And she's taking the godmother business quite seriously."

"Really?"

Owen shot Mark a scathing look.

"What?" Mark asked, defensively. "Yang doesn't seem like the cuddly, baby type. Hell, she doesn't even seem like the cuddly, pet type."

"You'd be surprised." Owen didn't offer up anything more. Unlike Mark, he believed in keeping private conversations private.

Even Derek looked at Owen with a hint of disbelief in his expression. Then again, he'd never thought Meredith would end up wanting children. So, it wasn't too much of a shocker that the other twisted sister would change her mind as well.

"What exactly is the cuddly, baby type?" Derek asked Mark. "You're not cuddly, but you like babies."

"Correction. I like babies from my gene pool. But fine, I get your point." Mark crossed his arms and leaned against the desk, positioning himself closer to Derek. "So, who's going to be the godfather?"

Derek considered the two men sitting in his office. It was a good question. Who was going to be the baby's godfather? Owen definitely had the better moral compass and sense of responsibility, but Mark had demonstrated quite clearly that he was ready – or at least willing to be ready – for parenthood.

"Both of you."

"I'd be honored," Owen replied at the same time that Mark said, "That's cheating." Hearing Owen's response, Mark remedied his answer. "Of course I'd be honored. If this kid is a boy, Hunt can teach all the boring stuff, like camping or baseball or manners. But he's going to need me to know how to get the ladies…and how to keep them coming back for more."

Derek shuddered at the thought of having a mini-Mark Sloan for a son and desperately hoped for a daughter.

Meanwhile, the mother of Derek's future daughter – or son – went home to briefly check in on her sister. She and the others had arranged it so that Lexie was never by herself for too long. When she entered the house, Meredith spied Lexie looking through the cupboards in the kitchen.

"Need help finding something?" Meredith asked as she hung her bag and coat over the back of a chair.

"No, I've got it." Lexie showed the cans of chicken broth that were in her hands and closed the cupboard doors.

"What are you making?" Meredith could see pieces of thawed boneless chicken breast, a bowl of washed vegetables, and a bag of spiral pasta.

"I'm attempting to make chicken soup the way that my mom did. But I can't remember the exact recipe, and I don't have all the ingredients. But I'm making do… without the right ingredients… and without my mother." A tear slid down her cheek as she spoke the last part of the sentence.

Meredith gently guided Lexie to the chair, never letting go of Lexie's hand as they sat down. A soft sob escaped Lexie's lips. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm used to being able to call my mother in times like these. She would've known what to do."

Meredith nodded. "Your mom was a fantastic mother, Lexie. And I hope that I will be more like her than my own mother when it comes to raising my child."

Lexie looked up, then at Meredith's stomach, and then back up again. "You're pregnant?"

"Yes. And I'm terrified. I didn't have the model mother when I was growing up. Ellis Grey was always more of a surgeon than a parent. But from I knew of Susan… She put family first. She was so much of a mother that she mothered the grown daughter from her husband's previous marriage." Meredith patted Lexie's hand. "I see her in you, Lexie. You have the same caring nature, and I'm going to need your help in raising this child. To do things like make her chicken noodle soup from scratch when she's feeling down. Because we all know that I'd just end up making him or her feel worse with food poisoning."

The corners of Lexie's lips turned upward. "Yeah… Um, I haven't cut the vegetables yet. Want to help me?"

"Sure." Meredith rolled up her sleeves and got up from the table, following Lexie to the kitchen counter. "How should I cut these?" she asked, gesturing towards the large carrots on top of the pile of veggies with her knife.

"Here, let me show you." She carefully took the knife out of Meredith's hand and placed a carrot on the cutting board. "Mom liked to dice them into smaller pieces so that they'd cook faster and be softer. Like this." She demonstrated the technique and then handed the knife back to Meredith. After Lexie checked to make sure that Meredith was cutting it properly, she went back to work on the rest of the soup's components.

Side by side, the two of them worked in comfortable silence, punctuated with the sound of rhythmic chopping coming from Meredith's knife. Just as Meredith was nearing the last of the vegetables that needed to be diced, she heard the doorbell ring.

"I'll get it," Meredith said, setting down the knife and wiping her hands on the apron that she'd wrapped around her waist. She glanced down at her watch and noted the guest's punctuality. Her instincts had been right; the guy clearly had feelings for Lexie.

Meredith let Jackson in with a soft hello. After closing the door behind him, she simultaneously untied the apron strings behind her back and led Jackson to the kitchen.

"Hey, Lexie. Jackson's here to see you. I've got to get back to work, but why don't you let him help you finish chopping? I'll see you later, and we can have chicken noodle soup for dinner." With an encouraging nod to Jackson, she waved him to take the place she'd vacated next to Lexie, who was so focused on making sure everything was right that she barely registered the switch.

"Um, what do you want me to do?" Jackson asked, washing his hands then moving to stand next to Lexie.

Knowing that her sister was in good hands, Meredith quietly let herself out and went back to work.

On the other side of town, Mark had just gotten home after having taken a detour to run an errand. Mere minutes after having finished carrying the last of the items into his apartment, Callie stormed in through the open door and took a seat on his couch without so much as a greeting. As was the case earlier in the day, there were tears streaming down her face.

Mark grabbed the nearby box of Kleenex – a necessity he'd bought in the past weeks just for occasions such as these – and handed it to her. Callie blew loudly into the tissue then promptly burst out into a fresh batch of tears. Mark shut the door then took a seat beside her.

"Trouble in paradise?"

"More like hell. Arizona and I broke up," she cried.

"I know, you told me earlier today."

"No, we had make-up sex afterwards." She hiccupped. "We're really broken up this time."

"Really really broken up?"

"Yes! I just said that!"

"Sorry, I had to make sure. What happened?"

"I was this close to convincing myself that being with Arizona would be enough. But then I heard that Meredith was pregnant, and my womb started aching again."

Mark got up to get Callie a glass of water. At the rate she was crying – and blowing her nose, she was going to get dehydrated. When Mark handed her the glass of water, she'd already gone through another two Kleenexes.

"Thanks… Mark, what am I going to do? I want a baby so badly. I've always dreamed of being a mother. I don't mean right now. I know that I can't handle raising a baby right now, but I can't be in a relationship where that will never happen. I want to be pregnant. I want to get fat. I want to feel something kicking inside me. I want to change poopy diapers and rock my baby to sleep at night."

"Well, I can help with the last part of that."

"What? Ew, Mark, I am not rocking you to sleep at night."

"No, Torres. I'm talking about this." Mark removed the loosely fitted lid of the cardboard box he'd placed down on the coffee table earlier. He reached in and pulled out a tiny kitten that fit in the palm of his hand. It mewed sleepily. "Here," he said, transferring the kitten into Callie's arms.

"Oh my god, Mark. You didn't." Callie's heart melted as she stroked the soft fur of the kitten's head.

"Obviously, I did. And I bought you everything you need: a litter box, a bed, a collar, toys, cat food, and so on." Mark pointed to the large bags that were sitting near his front door. "It's a boy, by the way."

"Thank you, Mark." Callie looked at Mark with an adoration that made him shift awkwardly in his seat.

"Yeah, it wasn't a big deal. I was going to get you a rabbit, but they're boring. All they do is eat and poop. I thought about getting you a puppy, but neither of us are home enough to train one. So, I got you a cat… Now, you can be a cat lady like Addison."

"Seriously. Thank you." Callie gave Mark a peck on the cheek then rested her head on his shoulder.

"So, what are you going call him?" He absentmindedly rubbed Callie's arm in a soothing motion, inadvertently mimicking Callie's petting of the kitten.

"I think I'm going to call him… McSteamy."

Alex barreled through the front door under a dark cloud. He was tempted to slam the door, but he knew that in his current state, he'd probably break the door of its hinges, and Meredith would kill him. Thanks to the ups and downs of Arizona's personal life – at the moment, it was most definitely down – he had gotten kicked off of her service, all because he and Callie had once slept together. He'd tried to tell her that it was before she'd even met Callie, so it didn't count, but it was useless. Arizona was being completely unreasonable. She was mad, and everyone was going to get a taste of it – except her patients. Somehow, she could still tack on a bright smile whenever she went in to see the kids and preach about magic and fairies – or whatever crap she usually sold them.

In his preoccupation over his shitty day at work, Alex didn't notice the rock music playing or the muffled sound of voices coming from the kitchen. It was only when he glimpsed movement in the kitchen that he realized that someone else was in the house and stopped in his tracks.

From his hidden vantage point, Alex could see Jackson and Lexie dancing and cooking in the kitchen. Judging from splotches of batter on Jackson's shirt and in Lexie's hair, Alex could only assume that they'd had an accident with the electric beater – and said accident had sent them into a fit of giggles.

His first instinct was to go in there and open a can of whoop ass on Jackson for moving in on his girl. But the sound of Lexie's laughter made him freeze in place. He hadn't heard that sound in ages. He'd barely seen her crack a smile since the shooting. But now, she looked happy – genuinely happy and enjoying herself.

The surge of anger left Alex's body, replaced by the sense of bittersweet. Lexie deserved more than he could give her. He'd been so wrapped up in his recovery to operational status and trying not to think about Izzie that he'd missed the first signs of something being wrong with Lexie. And even then, he'd been the last to know. From the moment she'd stepped out of her session with Dr. Wyatt, she'd been distant with him. And how could he blame her? He'd cried out another woman's name when he thought he was dying – a fact that Lexie had revealed to him in the one therapy session he'd reluctantly attended so that she could alleviate some of her guilt over the shooting. It didn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.

So, Alex did as he had once told Izzie in the locker room: he let go. He let go of the jealousy and the primitive desire to protect his territory because Lexie wasn't his. In truth, he didn't know if she ever was. With an accepting glance at the oblivious pair, Alex headed up the stairs for the much-needed solace of his room where he could be alone with his thoughts.

Owen had something much less depressing on his mind as he instructed his Bluetooth to call Cristina. She picked up on the first ring.

"Where are you? What happened to holding that thought till I got home? If you don't get here soon, I'm going to fall asleep."

Owen chuckled. "Sorry, I'll be home soon. I just had to stop by my mother's."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing like that. Just talking to your mother made me realize that it'd been a while since I visited my mom. It was a last-minute detour."

"Is there any chance she sent you home with food?"

Cristina knew his mother well. "Yes. There's eggplant parmesan, spaghetti and meatballs, pear and walnut salad, and cornbread."

"Okay, you're forgiven. Hurry up, I'm starving."

Owen smiled. He could almost see her salivating in anticipation. "For the food? Or for me?"

The questions elicited a lusty chuckle out of Cristina. "Both."

"All right, I'll see you in a few minutes. Bye."

Unbeknownst to Cristina, the abundance of food wasn't all that Sarah Hunt had sent her son off with. No, this other item was not in a plastic Tupperware container or a Ziploc bag. It was enclosed in a square-shaped satin black box sitting securely in the deep pocket of Owen's signature jacket.

"Mom, there's another reason why I came by for a visit…"

"Yes, Owen?" Sarah Hunt lips transformed into a knowing smile.

"I was wondering if I could have grandmother's ring—"

No sooner had he uttered the words, Sarah Hunt was reaching into a nearby drawer and placing the item in question into his hands.

Owen's mouth was agape. "How did you know that I was going to ask you for it?"

Sarah patted her son's hands. "A mother always knows."

And he believed it.

We never truly understand the difficulty of being a parent until we become one. It's a challenge that requires unconditional love, superhuman patience, and unyielding faith – plus a pinch of insanity. The crying, the temper tantrums, the stress, the sleep deprivation, the emission of body fluids – no one wants it, but they're all part of this package deal called parenthood, which comes in different guises. Whether our "children" are of the human kind or non-human kind, it's a decision that both gives our existence new meaning and scares the hell out of us. Because parenthood marks the defining moment where we begin to build a family.