Author's Note: Hello. Quick update, right? This is a very important chapter. I considered putting it at the end out the last one, but decided it stands better on it's own. I hope you agree. Enjoy. There will be a longer author's note at the end.

To Those Who Reviewed:

Guest from August 28th,

That's nice. I like to reread and refresh too. I agree. Maybe you are welcome. Thank you for reviewing.

Kwack,

You are welcome. Here is more. While I cannot make any promises, this is a Zade story. Thank you for reviewing.

Chapter Twenty-Five

"So, what do you think?" My dad asks, looking at me expectantly.

"Is this the same one?" I ask. He nods. I get up and hug him, holding my brand new scalpel in my hand. A couple months ago, mom was having one of her oh-so-boring parties, and dad and I snuck off. We took one of the entrees with us, some kind of bird, I think. Dad took out his magic doctor bag, the one that always makes me think of Mary Poppins. He pulled out something shiny and metal, and told me it was called a scalpel. He guided my hands, and we dissected the dead animal together. It was the most amazing experience of my life. Now, it was Christmas/Chanukah (we're a mixed family, all though, to be honest, neither of my parents are that religious) and I just opened my dad's present. It's a stethoscope, and a scalpel. The scalpel.

"Ethan, do you think that's an appropriate gift for an eight-year-old."

I'm nine, but I don't care enough to correct her. I hold my hair in a ponytail as my dad puts the stethoscope around my neck. It's like a necklace, but a million times better.

"I thought you should have one of your own." He says, smiling at me. I smile back, and then glance over at the mirror.

"I'm going to be a surgeon someday." I say.

"No, sweetie. Someday, you're going to be the surgeon, the best one out there. And don't let anyone tell you different."

I don't know why dad hasn't come to visit me. When they first brought me in, after I fell, he was here everyday, sitting at my bedside, reading medical journals. But now …

I see him coming. There's something strange about him, about the way he's looking at me. He's smiling, but it's more like a grimace.

"Hi daddy." I say, he winces, "The doctors say I'm going to be okay."

"That's great princess." He moves to sit down, then thinks better of it, "I … have to get back to work. Feel better."

I nod. Something's wrong. Is he mad at me?

"I think he's adorable, don't you Zo?" I just shrug. I hate gym class. I'd much rather be studying than standing in sweaty clothes with a bunch of vapid girls ogling guys in gym shorts. It's not that I don't exercise. My mom bought me a treadmill a couple years ago. She said that if I wanted to stay skinny, I should use it regularly. It was a dumb thing to say. As a future doctor, I know that that's the sort of comment that can give a child an eating disorder. Luckily, I'm smarter than that. I do like to go use it though. Since dad moved out, it's deafeningly quiet in the mornings, so I like to start my day with headphones and a half-hour on the treadmill before I have breakfast and head to school. But that's me. That's my own personal time. This is high school hell. Rich morons surround me. Yes, I'm rich too, but I'm not a moron. I take my classes seriously. These girls are more interested in grading the butts of senior boys than getting As. Normally we don't talk to each other, but we were partnered up in gym class, and I guess they'd rather talk to the loser brainy girl than have to stop gossiping. Two more years and I'll be off to medical school, I remind myself. "Hey, Chuck," she calls the boy she was talking about over. He hurries the way all teenage boys do when pretty girls beckon to them, "Zoe here doesn't know if you're adorable or not. I said you totally were, but she isn't sure. Isn't that right Zoe?"

Chuck glances at me, and I feel my face heating up. "I, uh, um." I stammer out. I hear giggles nearby. Up close, I can see she is kind of right. Chuck is adorable. I want to die.

He turns back to her, "So, you think I'm totally adorable?" he asks. She giggles flirtatiously. I guess I should be relieved, but I just feel completely inadequate. Two more years.

Med school is so much harder than I thought it would be. Don't get me wrong, I love it. I'm just exhausted. Thank god for my study group. Except Mark. He's so annoying. In the beginning, he was fine. He was smart, and he seemed to take class as seriously as the other, but now he just keeps staring at me during study sessions, and whenever one of us asks him a question, he has totally no clue what we're talking about it's so … anyway, I'm more frustrated then ever now, because the flu is going around and most of my study group is sick, so it's just the two of us tonight. When he shows up, I decide to let him have it, "Look, I don't know what is going on with you lately, but I cannot afford to have my GPA drop. This has been my dream my whole life, and I am so close to it. So whatever is off with you, fix it and get yourself together. I cannot flunk this exam, and if I get any less than an A because you couldn't keep your head in the game, I swear, I will neuter you."

"I'll keep focused Zoe. I promise." He says, smiling. No, not smiling. Laughing. He's laughing at me. Not out loud, but I can see it in his eyes, and in his smile.

"What is it?" I yell at him.

"You're just so adorable." Whoa. Didn't see that coming. My face grows red, and I sputter a couple times before finally saying, "We should get to work." And we do. Except this time, I'm the one who cannot focus, the one who keeps staring at him. I guess he's cute. I never really thought about it before. He's tall, with dark hair and broad shoulders. I haven't really dated since Jason. That ended pretty badly, and I figured it would be better to just forget about guys and focus on my schoolwork. There'd be plenty of time to date once I was the top cardiothoracic surgeon in New York.

"Zoe?"

"What?" I ask, jumping.

"I asked you a question."

"Oh, right. What was it?" I feel my cheeks getting redder and redder. He smiles at me. It's a great smile. How did I never notice that before? His teeth are perfect. I wonder if he ever wore braces.

"Zoe?"

"Sorry, what?" God, this is embarrassing.

"I asked if everything as all right?"

"I … you think I'm adorable?" God. What is wrong with me? I can't believe I just asked him that. He smiles again. Then, he leans over and kisses me. It's nice. I kiss him back, wrapping my arms around his neck. His hands go to my back, and start rubbing up and down. It feels soooo good. I guess I didn't realize how long it's been. I must have moaned or something, because I feel him chuckle. I sort of feel like I should be insulted by that, but I keep going. I don't pull away until he's shirtless. I barely remember pulling it off, "I guess we can study tomorrow." I say. He nods, and we go back to what we were doing. It's definitely better than with Jason. I don't feel that sense of foreboding, and he's not dumb enough to say he loves me.

This day should be perfect. I graduated. I'm valedictorian Mark is salutatorian. We're both going to be doing our residency at the same hospital. Everything should be perfect. Still, I really wish my dad were here. I'll make excuses for him with mom. I always do. I'll make excuses with him for myself. But deep down, I just wish he'd found a way to come. That old guy coming up to me offering me a job was really weird. I guess it was flattering though.

"You're breaking up with me at the hospital?" I ask. I'm in shock. Mark and I have been together since junior year of med school. How is this happening?

"Well, you're never anywhere else, are you?"

"Mark, come on, that's not fair."

"Yes it is. Zoe, when was the last time we spent the day together, just the two of us? When was the last time we shared a meal that wasn't in the hospital cafeteria?"

"We BOTH work here. It's convenient."

"Relationships aren't supposed to be about convenience."

"We're saving lives here! I thought you understood. You're a doctor, just like me."

"But unlike you, I'm able to leave the hospital behind me at the end of the day. You only ever think about work. You only ever talk about work. You didn't even remember our anniversary. And when was the last time you asked me how I'm doing, how my day was?"

"When was the last time you asked me?"

"Last night. You gave me a hour-long rant about how a patient of yours would have died if it weren't for you, said 'love you,' and hung up before I could say anything at all!"

"Well, I saved a guys life. It was a pretty big deal! And I was busy, and tired. I had a long day. I said I love you, isn't that what's important?"

"So you love me, but not enough to talk to me or think about me?"

"I did talk to you-"

"You talked at me. You told me what a hero you were and then just-"

"That's what this is really about, isn't it? You're jealous. You just can't handle that your girlfriend is a better doctor than you."

Mark sighs and shakes his head, "Believe what you want. This, you and me, we're done. It's over."

I watch Mark walk away. Well, that could have gone better.

I truck pulls up beside me, and a petty as it is, I kind of resent the guy for having a car when I'm stuck walking. "Can I offer you a ride, Ma'am?"

"Thank you, but I have a strong policy against strangers chopping me up into a million pieces."

"If it helps, I'm an attorney, not an axe murderer."

"Nice Nightgown. I'm Wade."

Arrogant ass, I think, "Well, that smile might make all the girls at the church social swoon but it's not gonna work on me."

"Maybe, even though you're gone there are still some things you can teach me. No one ever believed in me like you did- you kept sending me those postcards, knowing one day I'd be lost and maybe following in your- my real father- your footsteps for a while, I might find my way"

"I thought it was kind of heroic."

"With the right person, it does just flow."

"What's going on?" I ask. I'm nervous. George has been acting weird for weeks now. I don't know what's going on with him. I've tried talking to him about it, but he just keeps changing the subject. Then, he suddenly wants to take a drive, and he won't tell me where we're going. It's a little, unsettling. He pulls to a stop. "George, what are you doing?"

"Parking." He says.

"George, you can't just park here. This isn't a parking space, it's the middle of a road."

"Side of the road, actually. A very important side of the road." He turns to me, smiling, "Why don't you get out?"

"What?"

H practically hops out of the car and walks over to my side. He grabs my door, and opens it, offering me his hand. "Come on. You trust me, right?" I nod, although, to be honest, right now, I'm having doubts. I take his hand and step out of the car, "Do you recognize where we are?" He asks.

I look around me. Its just road. I mean, I've driven down it before, or course, but it's nothing special. I shake my head.

"Here, maybe this'll help." He opens up his trunk and pulls out a very familiar suitcase. I remember him taking that suitcase once and putting it in is trunk, here on this very road.

"This is … this is where me met."

He nods, "It was the best think that ever happened to me. I thank god every day that I was drivin' down this road when you walked by, carryin' this suitcase with a determined look on your face. Even then, I knew there was somethin' about you, that you were special." He starts unzipping the suitcase, "We haven't had the easiest road, with Lemon and all, but some how, we found a way to each other. It's like we were meant to. This road led me to you, and nothing in my life has ever been the same. I am so grateful to have you in my life Zoe. I love you so much, and you make me so happy. You are the most amazing woman I have ever known." He pulls something out of the suitcase. It's a small box. Oh my god. Is this really happening?

"Zoe Hart, will you marry me?"

"Yes." I say. It comes out in a whisper, so I say it again, louder, "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes, George Tucker. Yes." He smiles and kisses me. Life has never been this perfect.

"So, am I going to move in here with you?" I asked as I scanned the room for my hairbrush. Where had I left it? It wasn't on my dresser.

George, who was sitting up on our bed, flipping through a magazine looked up at me like I was crazy, "I thought that already happened. Wasn't that what all those boxes be brought over was about?"

"No, I mean, once we're married." Married. The word made me smile. I was getting used to saying it, but doubt it will ever stop making me smile or stop making me feel like a giddy schoolgirl, "Are we going to live here or …" I let it hang there for a second, waiting for him to weigh in.

"Where else would we live? I mean, I guess we could pick out our own place together if you wanted to start fresh; I don't think there's anything for sale in Bluebell right now though."

"Well, there are other places." I said quietly, looking down to avoid his gaze.

I heard him sighed, "You want to move back to New York, don't you?" I didn't answer. I didn't know how to, "I was afraid of this."

That surprised me, "You were?" I asked looking up.

He nodded, "I mean, I know how much you love it there -"

"No, George it's not like that." How can I explain this? I need him to understand, "Yes, I grew up in New York, and it will always have a special place in my heart, but the truth is, I'm kind of over the big city. Alabama's my home now, and I love it here."

I sat down next to him, taking his hand. He had discarded his magazine by this point. I needed him to understand what Bluebell meant to me, how much I loved it here, what a hard decision this was. Bluebell was such a large part of George; not loving it would be like not loving him, or at least a huge part of what made him who he was. And we met here. Plus, there was Lavon, and Lemon, and even Brick, and kooky traditions, and the way a patient looks at you when you are their doctor.

I really do love Bluebell, and I love George even more, which is saying something. I don't want him to doubt that. Not ever. I have to be clear; precise. How can I say what I need to say? I'm lucky; George understands me better than anybody ever has. But that doesn't mean I don't still chronically put my foot in my mouth.

"Then what's the problem?"

Now it was my turn to sigh, "George, I love being a GP, you know I do, but I trained my whole life to be a surgeon. Long grueling hours of study, putting off a social life, late nights memorizing the most fascinating, obscure details about the human body. I wouldn't have put myself through all that if I wasn't sure that that was what I wanted to do with my life. I love it, and I'm really good at it, and I spent so much time in school … I love the Practice, both for sentimental reasons, and because I just love working there, but there's more out there for me. I'm a surgeon George, I can't just ignore that part of me."

He nodded, "Zoe, I love you, and I would do anything for you, you know that-"

"But?"

He looks down at our intertwined hands and begins rubbing mine with his thumb. How can such a small gesture feel so intimate? "But, what I said when we met all those years ago about me and Bluebell, I mean, I liked New York, but there's a reason I came back. I'd love to travel, see the world, but at the end of the day, this is my home."

I nodded, "It's my home too. If we had a hospital here with a surgery position, I would be there this second with an application, but we don't. It's not like I want to leave, it's just …"

George nodded, "Okay, how about a compromise." I hold my breath, waiting to hear his idea, "Mobile."

"What?"

I hadn't expected that. What did he mean? Did he want me to get a job at Mobile and commute from Bluebell? Or did he want us to live there? As if reading my mind, he said, "You cannot be a surgeon in Bluebell, but you could in Mobile."

"Like commute? Because it's a little far. I mean, if there's an emergency, I need to be able to get there in -"

"Well, we could move there. Yeah, I could expand my practice, get some new clients up there, but keep my old ones. It's close enough to Bluebell that I could do that."

I smiled. I feel like jumping up and down on the bed. This is perfect. It's the perfect solution, "I wouldn't have to lose touch with Lavon." I add, letting myself get excited, "We'd be so close; we could meet up all the time. And we could come up and visit all the time, for like Planksgiving, and Christmas-"

"And The Founder's Day Parade. You know there would be a lot of disappointed people if you didn't get up on that float." George teased.

"Am I ever going to live that down?" I say, slapping him playfully.

He just chuckles and shakes his head, "So, Mobile?"

"Mobile. Well, I mean, if I can get a position. I could go down to New York and talk to my old chief about a recommendation; I've been meaning to visit anyway, check in with some old friends."

"Yeah, we could go up next week, make a trip of it."

"Oh, that's sweet," I say chuckling, "but we both know it's not possible. You have that big case coming up, remember? You're friend in Baltimore asked you to step in and help him out?"

George nodded, "Okay, but we could go up together for a couple days. Enjoy the city, kind of like a pre-honeymoon. And then I can take the plane to Baltimore and you can be alone in you're city, free to make sweet love to The Statue of Liberty one last time before I make an honest woman out of you."

"Gasp, did George Tucker just say something slightly crude?"

"Hey, I can be crude." I can't help it. I start laughing. I don't mean to, honest, it's just … "Hey, I can, I can be crude, and dirty, and kinky as hell," that just made me laugh harder, "Here, I'll show you."

For a second, my mind flashes to the crudest man I knew. I am still pissed at hell at him about what he said, but I have to admit, I kind of miss his crude sense of humor. Even if, as he said, I was never his friend, he had been mine.

George pulls me to him and my giggles melted into moans as he kisses me senseless before pulling me down on the bed.

I drum my fingers on the dashboard as I listen to the radio. I know this song. It's one of Wade's favorites. No! I will not think about Wade. He's not my friend. He's just and asshole. He never cared about me; he as good as told me. Still, I miss him. George has been urging me to call hi, to try and reconcile, but what would be the point. He clearly wants nothing to do with me. Still, I feel my hand reaching for my cellphone. His number is still in my contact. Maybe I should …

I don't see the truck coming. Not until it's right there. Then all I see is a big, bright, blinding light. And pain. And darkness.

Zoe jerked awake. It took a moment for her to remember where she was. She was in Lavon's carriage house. But why? The amnesia. That's why she was back here; she lost her memories. Her head ached. It felt like she had lived her entire life in just one night. In a way, she had.

Author's Note: So, incase it was unclear, this was the chapter where Zoe gets her memories back, which is, of course, going to change a lot. Obviously there were more memories than just the ones I put, but I could hardly put her whole life, so I just made up some highlights, and added a few lines from the show. I would have put whole scenes from the show, but I figure you guys would probably get bored with that.

And for those of you who were wondering, yes, that scene where George and Zoe talk about moving is the first half of that other scene which was saw from George's perspective in an earlier chapter. I know in the show Zoe has to stay in Bluebell, and I have no problem with her living there, but I always thought it was sort of sad that she'll never get to be a cardiothoracic surgeon. Obviously she cannot move away, because she needs those people, but that is her dream job, she's good at it, and she worked hard to get there. I would like if they could find a way for her to be a cardiothoracic surgeon without having to move back to New York. There is nothing wrong with GP's, but that was not her dream or what she trained for. It just seems like a waste of talent and training. I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong. It's just my opinion.

Hartofdixiewikia was useful of course for the transcribed parts. I also found the original script for the Pilot. I did not read all of it, but it was interesting. I read the parts with Wade which are different, and the opening part, which is also kind of different. If you get a chance, you might want to give it a read. Anyway, they let you here more of Zoe's speech there, so I made use of that to learn a little more about the first time she used a scalpel. I could have used the breakup scene with her boyfriend too, but I decided to come up with my own. For those interested, the website is . /Hart_Of_Dixie_1x01_-_ . are periods, but they won't let you post websites in their actual form here.

Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. I am anxious for your reviews.