"How'd you sleep?"

"Not too well."

"Any shoulder pain?"

"No. Pain-in-the-ass wife."

"No."

Jenny and Rob Harmon, pair of patients who happen to be happily married and expecting a baby soon. The wife accidentally ran over her husband in the driveway before fainting on the way to the hospital. An M.R.I. scan unfortunately reveals a growing aneurysm.

"I kept him up all night because I was afraid my aneurysm was gonna explode, and I was gonna die." She reveals with a deep breath.

"That's one way to give a father-to-be a heart attack." I unwrap the blood pressure cuff from the upper right arm. "Jen, I've got some not so good news."

Her smile falters for a moment. "And that's one way to give a pregnant woman a heart attack."

"Dr. Shepherd was called into an emergency early in the morning, so. . .your aneurysm will have to wait until later."

"Wh — later when?"

"Few hours. . .there's a chance he won't see you until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Rob speaks up. "I mean, she's already waited until tomor — today is tomorrow."

My hand rests against her shoulder. "I'll make sure he gets here sooner rather than later." A wave of worry washes over Jenny as her body becomes rigid. "You need to relax, Jen."

"How?"

"With a Jell-O cup?"

". . .I'll take two."

When the opportunity arises for synchronous ten-minute breaks, Meredith, Cristina, and I take it with no hesitation.

"Addison's brother probably isn't gonna make it. His cysts are inoperable."

"Worms in the brain — not how you want to go."

"Derek could have brought up Addison having a brother, but no. That kind of thing can just go unsaid in a relationship."

"He could have said something while playing the guitar." Meredith mentions to us casually.

"Speak English."

"What she said."

Her shoulder bumps against mine. "Your lover used to play the guitar. Even wrote and sang a song for Addison on their wedding day."

"Thank God he's isn't that cheesy anymore." I release a breath of relief.

"Owen's ex-fiancée is in the hospital." Cristina blurts out. "Mm-hmm. His ex-fiancée he never told me about."

"What's wrong with her?"

"Well she calls her dad daddy."

"That's absolutely disgusting, sickening. . .another word that ends with -ing."

Meredith laughs at our similar expressions of aversion. "No. I mean what's wrong with her? Why is she in the hospital?"

"Oh, she isn't. Daddy is."

"Stop saying that, Yang."

"What are you going to do, serenade me with your guitar?"

"Revolting."

Izzie confronts me outside of the Harmons' room with a crazed expression over her face and body. And with the consent of the couple, interns run in and out of the room performing small tasks to complete the next round to Izzie's game.

"110 over 80." Sadie rips off the cuff.

"What's their prize for winning?" Rob relaxes against the armchair.

Jenny lifts the top of her hospital gown to expose her abdomen. "They need a prize. Otherwise, what's the point?"

"They're getting a prize. A really big prize. Huge." Izzie eagerly replies before lowering her voice. "I need a prize."

"Did Dr. Shepherd mention anything about the surgery, Dr. Phoenix?"

"We could be taking you into the O.R. anytime now, Jenny."

The blonde intern, whom Meredith seemed to be the only one fond of, glides the scanner over her gelled belly.

"What?"

"I can't find it."

"Wait. . .is something wrong? Is the baby's heart not beating? What —"

Jenny immediately begins to panic at the thought of something happening to her unborn child, her heartbeat rising on the monitor.

"Heart's further down." I take the doppler out of her hands. "Last time I checked, a baby's heart isn't in their ass."

Almost instantly the fetal heartbeat thumps against the speaker, relieving Jenny of her worries.

"Don't worry. With me on the case. . .I'll make sure nothing happens to you or your baby."

Soon, it's time for Jenny to begin her fast before the operation. On the contrary, Rob's supposed to be eating quite often much to her disdain.

"Dr. Torres said I, uh, had to eat. I'm sorry." He drops the spoon back into a container of chocolate pudding.

"No, it's okay." She shakes her head. "How is it?"

He takes another spoonful. "It's amazing."

With a wet sniffle, the hormonal, pregnant wife sobs violently. Tears leave streaks down her reddened cheeks as her husband looks back.

He turns to her quickly, forgetting about the pudding all together. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's bland. It's really bland."

"I need my surgery! Now!" She cries out. "What kind of hospital is this? How long am I supposed to wait? Because —"

"Hey!"

My voice raises more than I expected, but it works to stop her from crying again.

"Panicking isn't gonna do anything except raise your blood pressure and start contractions."

I tuck the bed sheet under her protruding belly.

"Believe me, I understand how painful it is to wait and wait and wait for surgery, but this should help."

A few clicks from the ultrasound machine, and a 3D image of their son's face appears on the screen.

"That's your son. That is your son's face, and I need you to think about this image for the next few hours, okay? Because that is the only thing that will remind you of what the end goal is: seeing your son's face."

Her breaths grow slow as they stare intently at the image of their soon-to-be-born son.

A short hour before her surgery, the trio of depressed residents gather at the top of the stairs, watching the group of attending unite below.

"You can see how much he's changed since. . .since moving to Seattle."

"Since meeting you."

"He was a different person back then."

"I know, but. . .it feels like I barely know the man standing in front of me."

"And I don't know Owen."

"We don't know any of them. At least, not the past versions of themselves."

Night falls, the group from LA enjoy their night in Seattle after a successful surgery on one of their own. Through little convincing, Jenny convinced me and Derek to perform the surgery tonight rather than first thing the next morning.

So here we are, past midnight in an O.R., performing brain surgery.

"Sucker at the ready?"

"Sucker's at the ready."

I smile gently behind the mask, locking eyes with Derek for a moment as we amuse over Lexie Grey's intern-like enthusiasm.

"You guys are mocking me."

"Lexie, you're Meredith's kid sister. . .which gives me sisterly privileges."

"Ha, ha. Very funny, Levie."

"Only Joe the bartender can call me that, Lexipedia."

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

"Damn it." Derek drops the medical device.

"What-What happened?" The young intern glances up at the monitors.

"BP's 88 over 60."

"Hang 2 units of blood." Derek nods to a scrub nurse on the side. "Okay, all joking aside, Dr. Grey. Bring in the doomsday sucker."

"Okay —"

"Right in here. Get in there. Put it right in there."

"Oh, my God. Okay, wow."

"BP's 110 over 72 now."

"Okay, get the sucker out of there now."

She removes the doomsday sucker and holds it by her head again. "Is that it? Did you-Did you get it?"

"Yes, we did it."

----------

"What's happening? What's happening to her?"

"You're okay. Breathe into the mask, Jenny."

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

"Someone page Dr. Shepherd now!"