"She's almost as wide as she is tall."

"Are her ankles swollen? Is that why she's waddling?"

"What's gonna happen to us when she leaves?"

"Leave? She's going on leave?"

"Do you really think she's gonna come back the day after she pushes a baby out of her vagina?"

"Are we gonna get a new resident?"

"No. Probably just let us all walk around unattended. See how much damage we can do."

"Yeah, well, you would know."

The group of six interns fall into a pit of silence as we stop by the nurses' station. Izzie comes up with the idea to buy a Christmas gift for Bailey and the baby, to which George and Meredith surprisingly agree.

"Hey."

Dr. Shepherd's voice rings from behind, and I slow my pace. Together, we walk side by side, distancing ourselves more from the group.

"Holidays getting you down?"

"Very much so." He twists the cord to his earphones. "How'd you know?"

My shoulders shrug. "I'm the same way when it comes to this time of year." With a weak grin, I walk back to the others.

After rounds, Bailey assigns Alex and Meredith to the pit — another name for the emergency room area, Cristina to the U.N.O.S. transplant case, George to the gastric ulcer patient, and I get the one with all of the kids.

"Uh, Dr. Shepherd?"

Both doctors turn around at the sound of the voice. Dr. Addison Montgomery-Shepherd returns to flipping through a Christmas catalog while Dr. Derek Shepherd approaches me.

"The C.T. scans for Mr. Epstein are back."

His hand grazes the top of my own when he takes the film from me. Together, we walk down the rest of the hallway towards his room.

"And it was only one day of oil."

"It lasted eight whole days and nights!"

"And it was a miracle!"

"I wanted to say that part."

Not wanting to disturb their story-telling session, I quietly knock on the door, grabbing the entire family's attention.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you and your family, Mr. Epstein." A mild smile appears on my face. "You remember Dr. Shepherd, right?"

"Should we, um, talk more privately?" The neurosurgeon suggests.

The wife shakes her head. "Just tell us." She  sits up from the adjacent bed. "Is it bad?"

"Mr. Epstein, the fall has caused a subdural hematoma —" He begins.

"I don't even know what that means." One of the daughters, Leah, crosses her arms over her chest.

"It means your dad. . .his brain is bleeding."

". . .great."

"Look, there are some risks to the surgery." He faces Mrs. Epstein. "It has to happen before the bleeding gets worse."

"What kind of risks?" His wife frowns slightly.

"The bleed is in an area of the brain that controls speech and motor control." He replies.

"We don't need the operation."

"You know, Jake, I think we do."

"Hey, honey. You know something else?"

"What?"

"We have a doctor named Shepherd."

"Shepherd. Is that a sign from God or what?"

Dr. Shepherd tightens his lips into a thin line, tentatively letting them lift up into a smile for a moment, before he looks back at me.

The surgery proceeds well, with little to no talking within the room itself. Every so often, I catch Dr. Shepherd looking in my direction. And every time, I ignore it.

"Mrs. Epstein?" I greet her.

She lifts her son into her arms. "How-How is he?" Concern laces her voice.

"He's gonna be fine." I assure. "Just a little groggy."

"My dad wants to see me now, okay?" Jakes pipes from over his mother's shoulder.

"I'm sure he does." My hands slip into my pockets. "I hope you don't mind, but I thought your kids would like some lollipops." I pass each of them a stick.

"Oh, that's very sweet of you." Mrs. Epstein helps her kids unwrap the candy.

I lead the family towards the exam room where Mr. Epstein and Dr. Shepherd wait. The three children climb up the sides of the bed.

"Jillian. I have a headache." He mutters in a tired tone.

"I'll sing for you, Daddy."

"No."

"Dashing through the snow —"

"No."

"On a one-horse open sleigh —"

"Damn it, Leah, shut up! I can't stand that insipid song!"

The young girl immediately stops singing, instead running to cower behind her mother's legs.

Mrs. Epstein gasps at his sudden outburst. "Tim!"

"Just get out!" He yells incessantly. "Get out! Get out of here, all of you!"

"You stupid shepherd!" Jake cries out. "You broke my dad's brain."

After settling Mr. Epstein's family upstairs in the cafeteria — easier said than done — Dr. Shepherd and I walk through the hallway and discuss the case.

"How could his personality change so suddenly?" I run a hand through my hair. "You were nowhere near his frontal lobe."

"Well, the C.T. might have missed something." He suggests. "Or the personality change could be a reaction to the anesthesia wearing off. Could be the pain."

My fingertips press against the back of my neck, a stress-relieving habit. "And he wasn't in pain before the surgery?"

"I want you to watch him for a couple of hours. If he doesn't change, get a new C.T.."

He holds open the door to the stairwell, but I stay still.

"Aren't you coming?"

"I don't think I should."

His hands slip into the pockets of his white coat while he keeps the door open.

"You know, it's hard watching the last bit of your family die, especially during the holidays." The words flow without control. "I feel like I should forgive him for the pain he's caused me. . .but why can't I find it in myself to do so?"

"I don't know, Leven." He shrugs his shoulders, a soft expression crossing his features.

"You're lucky." My feet remain planted on the floor. "You have a wife who adores you. . .yet you still act like you have nothing."

After the second C.T. scan, we find an intracerebral bleeding in the frontal lobe, which justifies Mr. Epstein's abrupt change in behavior. Soon, Mr. Epstein is back in the O.R. for a second surgery.

"Two craniotomies in one day. Is there any danger in that?" I question in a worried voice.

"No more than with one." He answers. "Drill, please."

"Dr. Shepherd, I'm sorry about —"

"Is there music?"

"Any requests?" One of the nurses from behind speaks.

His eyes crinkle as he smiles from behind his mask. "Christmas carols. Or Hanukkah. Is there such a thing as Hanukkah carols?"

"I'm sure there is." I nod my head once.

The second surgery is also a success, only this time Mr. Epstein wakes up with a grateful smile and eagerly awaits his family's arrival.

I have changed out of the scrubs and into my regular clothes and prepare to leave for a tedious drive through the snow.

"Hey." Dr. Shepherd smiles kindly, walking alongside me as we pass the sliding doors. "Holidays getting you down?"

"How did you know?" A playful smirk plays on my lips.

"Joe's bar is still open if you wanna go out for drinks?"

"I don't think I should, Dr. Shepherd."

"And why not?"

"I'm afraid if you get to know me enough. . .you'll start something you'll regret."