Derek lays asleep on the couch for the eighth morning in a row. The blankets lay strewn over his figure from when I tucked him the night before.

I took Lexie's words into thought and. . .started taking care of him. Standing by his side while he goes through a mourning period.

And Mark had confronted him one night, along with my father and the chief, and broke him out of his drinking phase.

"Derek. . ." I run a hand through his hair. "Derek, it's your first day back at work." My lips touch the skin of his forehead.

He smiles in his sleep, slowly waking up from a deep slumber. His arms reach up to caress the back of my head before trying to pull me in for a real kiss.

I whisper breathily into his ear. "There's coffee in the pot and toast on the table."

"Tease."

"Payback."

"For what?" He throws the blankets off of himself and stands. "For the alcohol, the silent treatment, the —"

"For not letting me in." I reply softly.

"Leven. . ."

"And for not visiting me in the hospital. But mostly the first reason."

While he makes us plates of breakfast, I pour coffee into two mugs. Finishing with the table, he slips the velvet black box out of his pocket and props it open in front of me.

I stir sugar and cream into the mugs. "That's not going to make me forgive you. And. . .you should propose to me when you're ready. Because I have my answer."

"How long of a speech have you written out?"

"Six pages. Front and back."

The reason why Derek's decided to come back to the hospital is because Izzie. . .has a brain tumor. And only he can help her.

Bailey confronts the four residents — George nowhere to be found — outside of Izzie's room, warning us that we aren't a part of the doctor's side of the case, but the patient's.

Therefore, we enter the room as her supportive friends rather than residents aching for an interesting case.

"Your father is a vision, Leven."

Cristina works through the pages of articles Dad had assigned to her.

"He wrapped his hands around your throat this morning, and you're pretending like nothing happened." Meredith lightly scoffs.

"Just focus on Izzie." She avoids the thoughts associated with this morning's events.

I balance a pen on the tip of a finger. "The man tried to kill you this morning, and all you can do is bat your eyelashes?"

"He's barely back from Iraq. It's obvious he has issues. But that doesn't mean that you have to stand by and —"

"Do you realize Leven's doing the exact same thing with Derek?"

"But he didn't wake me up by choking me."

"Okay, so, if he, like, had a heart attack or a stroke or lost a leg, would you-would you walk away?" She cocks a brow. "How is it any more acceptable that I walk away from this? He's wounded. He has war wounds."

"But —"

"It's not cut and dry. And it is not as bad as you think it is."

With that final word to stamp her argument, Cristina walks off.

The next time either of us see one another is at lunch, where the lack of one person is rather significant physically and emotionally.

"Any word on Izzie?" Meredith stares at me as I set down the tray of food.

"No." I shake my head, letting out an incoherent sigh. "Is something wrong?"

Meredith shrugs her shoulders. "No one's been to check on her."

The last of us arrives and immediately begins to scarf down his lunch. Meredith stares at the side of his face until he finally asks.

"What?"

"Have you been to see Izzie?"

"No, haven't you?"

All eyes fall on the empty chair at the head of the table before we proceed with our meals.

Mere minutes before the surgery, Derek and the chief scrub into the O.R.. Before he can, however, I wave for the chief to come out.

"It's not a good time, Leven. He's still scrubbing in."

From behind, Derek blankly stares into the O.R. where Izzie lays.

"I understand, but, um. . .give this to him to wear." I slip a scrub cap out of the depths of my pocket and hand it to him. "Derek's always had a thing for ferryboats."

The chief takes it. "He always has."

With trembling hands and a quivering breath, I walk out of the scrub room to join the others by the O.R. board. But the faintest of touch stops me.

"I'm not ready." His breathing grows heavy with every exhale. "I can't do this."

"You're Derek Christopher Shepherd. Of course you can." I assure him with a bright grin, forced but still existent.

"I need to know that at least. . .I have you. No matter what happens in there, I need to know. I need to know. I need you to say yes." Cracks form in his voice.

My face falls at his demand. "I can't. Because me being with you forever isn't gonna make it okay for Izzie to die."

"But —"

"I love you. . .with everything in my body. And I know you can do this."

"Okay."

Seeing as he already has to scrub in again, I interlace the fingers of both of our hands before pressing a kiss to his lips.

"It's a beautiful day to save lives."

A crowd forms in front of the O.R. board — residents and interns alike — waiting to hear the results of Izzie's surgery.

What feels like hours pass until Bailey exits the wing.

"Shepherd was able to resect all of the tumor. She'll be in the PACU for about an hour. She's fine." Even the chief resident releases a relaxed breath.

The crowd disperses before Bailey confronts the central five.

"Your friend is just fine, no thanks to any of you." She growls in aggression. "Tomorrow, do better."

One day has gone by, and Izzie's still alive.

I change back into my regular clothes and head back home, wanting to pick up a bottle of wine to celebrate Derek's success.

"Leaving for the night, Leven?"

"I am, Chief."

To my surprise, he follows me down the steps to the lower level.

"Going home so soon, Rising Phoenix?" Mark questions at the bottom of the staircase. "Thought we could go out to Joe's and get some L.P.s to celebrate."

"I think I'll pass." I push past his sturdy figure.

Dad steps into view, and I speed up my pace. "Do you want to go out for a drive? We can get McFlurries. I know how much you love those."

"Not since I turned twelve."

Suddenly, I stop in my steps, causing the three men behind me to stumble into one another. With my back still turned, I question the trio.

"What's with you guys?"

"Nothing."

"A three-way response. Very suspicious."

Before I can interrogate them anymore, my pager beeps. All three of them look anywhere but directly at me, causing me to question the sudden page.

"You should go check that out."

"It could be important."

"Might be an emergency."

"Uh-huh. Alright, then."

And so I make my way down to the pit, where the page was sent from. A couple of nurses rush me to curtain area one, which has been closed off to the rest of the E.R..

There he was.

Derek Shepherd, a bouquet of white lilies sitting across his lap, a familiar black box in his hand.

"This couldn't be why Mark, Webber, and Dad were trying to stop me from leaving, could it?"

"Guilty as charged."

"What were you —"

"I'm trying to propose to you, so if you could just stay silent until the end, that would be great."

I mime zipping my lips shut. He chuckles lightly, running a hand through his delicate hair, before inviting me to sit next to him. Once I do, he closes the curtain.

"This is the first step to spending an entire lifetime with you. . ." The ring shines under the white lights. "Like I said not too long ago: I don't want 48 uninterrupted hours. I want a lifetime."

A smile emerges as I remember him uttering those exact words when we were hooking up in an on-call room.

My thumb pads across his cheek. "It was also the day you promised to fight for me. And you've obviously lived up to that promise."

"Well? What do you say?"

"I'm not gonna answer until you say the very words."

"Leven Phoenix, I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"I love you, too, Derek. I can't wait for a lifetime."