"So, I'm not even allowed in the bath?"

"You can't even watch me change, Shepherd."

Derek sits inside the dimly lit bathroom, illuminated by a few of the candles towards the end of the tub. I sit in a vat of bubbles, relaxing with shut eyes.

"But do I have to sit with the dog?"

He gestures to the fully grown Saint Bernard perched beside him, a tentative glint in his chocolate brown eyes.

"He always sits beside me during my baths." I let the tips of my toes stick out from the surface of the water. "Scar keeps me company and makes sure I don't die."

"Isn't that my job now?" His finger traces circles across the knee of his pants.

"Well, you can watch over me at the hospital."

"And at your place?"

"Scar will."

He shakes his head in disbelief. "I can't believe I have to compete with a dog." But nonetheless, the look of amusement remains vibrant.

"And Meredith. Cristina, too."

"Am I even in the top five?"

". . .you're in the top ten for sure."

"Well, I'm glad to know I'm so high up on your list."

Drops of water from gentle splashes create dark spots on his shirt, prompting the two of us to chuckle in pure humour.

The next morning, news of George's father's admittance to the hospital glooms the shift ahead, our worries but hopes directed to the O'Malley family.

Par Bailey's assignments, Meredith and I get to spend time together in the pit.

"Mia Hanson, five-year-old female. Crush injury to the abdomen, blunt trauma to her head. Her B.P. is 90 over 60, and pulse is 110.

"How was she injured?"

"Backed over by her mom's S.U.V.."

A woman runs out from the back of the ambulance. "She's, uh. . .her blood type is A-negative, and she's allergic to penicillin and-and wheat." She stops at the entrance, tears streaking her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Mia. I am so sorry, baby."

"Okay, Mrs. Hanson, we're going to take care of your daughter." Meredith assures while I start filling out the patient file.

But a blonde woman rushes up to us frantically.

"I'm Mrs. Hanson. Mia is my child. Anna is just the nanny who ran over my daughter."

She runs through the sliding doors, followed by the distraught nanny.

"Whoever said working the pit isn't interesting lied."

Inside the trauma room, Mrs. Hanson stands at the foot of the bed with Anna near the doorway when a man comes running in.

"What happened?"

"She ran over Mia in the driveway."

"She what?"

Anna shakes her head hysterically. "She wasn't supposed to be in the driveway. Mrs. Hanson told me to go get some milk, and I-I didn't see her."

"How do you not see a child standing in the driveway?"

Bailey tries to shush them while checking Mia's abdomen.

"Where were you?" His question is directed to Mrs. Hanson. "What were you doing that you couldn't watch Mia for five minutes?"

"It's alright, sweetheart." I soothe their uncomfortable daughter. "Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Bailey just want to see where you're hurt, okay?"

"I was supposed to be in court."

"Oh, so you were on the phone?"

"I was letting them know that I was going to be late."

"Instead of watching Mia?"

"Oh, so now this is my fault?"

"It's the car's fault, okay?" Bailey yells out loud, rendering the two silent. "S.U.V.s have blindspots the size of Jupiter. And all this yelling and fighting and placing blame is not going to help your child."

Way to go, Bailey.

"She has blood in her ear canal." Derek determines with the scope. "We need to get her upstairs for a C.T.."

Soon after the C.T., Mia is prepped and transported to the O.R. for me, Meredith, and Bailey to scrub in.

All six interns meet in the abandoned back hallway to eat lunch, read through medical books, and

"Why bother to have a kid if you're only going to see it on the weekends and holidays?" Mer fiddles with her cellphone. "Might as well just get a cat."

"I talked to Burke. I think he's fine." George slurps the rest of his drink.

"You did what?"

"What's wrong with Burke?"

"Nothing's wrong with anybody."

"Did you know he let her decannulate a heart this morning? By herself." He quickly throws her under the bus.

"Bitch."

"You lucky bastard."

"No, not by myself."

"Yang decannulated a heart. Why is Alex not surprised?" Alex snorts to himself.

"Izzie isn't either. Last week, she was digging through crap, this week she's fondling man boobs." Izzie cackles a bit maniacally. "No decannulating hearts for Izzie."

"Care to explain why you're talking in third person?"

"Izzie and Alex have a patient who speaks about himself in the third person."

"They thought it was annoying at first, but now they kind of like it."

"Well, Leven thinks it's annoying as fu — wait a minute. . .Leven doesn't mind it."

Results from Mr. O'Malley's tests arrive, and. . .they're not good. He has cancer in the oesophagus and has spread to his stomach.

Meanwhile, Mia's M.R.I.s reveal the need for a second surgery.

"Hi, Mia." I greet the young girl while jotting down her current vials. "Think you can say a few words for me? I have to make sure you're in tip-top shape."

"Where's. . .Anna?"

The same question, over and over again, about the whereabouts of her beloved nanny. I, of course — not having a say in the matter of whether she can or can't see Anna — meredly avoid the question.

"You talk really great, Mia." I smile lightly. "Look who's here, Mia. It's your mom and dad."

Mr. and Mrs. Hanson approach either side of the hospital bed cautiously, so as to not startle their daughter and defy the tranquil space.

"Hey." Her mother sits at her bedside. "How's my baby girl?"

Mia's eyes are shut, but her wants are crystal clear. "Anna. I want. . .Anna." She mumbles the nanny's name quietly.

Upset by her daughter's words, Mrs. Hanson gets up from the bed and leaves.

"Diane, wait." Mr. Hanson calls out after her. "Diane, where are you going?" He walks out after her.

But the next time I check her, Mr. and Mrs. Hanson stand on one side of the bed while Anna and Mia sing their nighttime song.

"Tonight called for another relaxing bath."

Derek scratches Scar behind the ears, causing the dog to splay across his lap as if to say more. I chuckle alongside him while he scratches Scar's belly.

"You're not in the top ten, Derek."

I lift the upper half of my body and let my head rest on the tops of my arms.

"Not even the top five."

"How long is your list?" He tilts his head to the side in mock confusion. "Well, if I'm not even in the top ten —"

"You're the first."

"What?"

"Whether I'm here at home or working at the hospital. . ." I exhale a deep breath. "You're the first on my list."

"Really?"

"Really. There's no doubt about it."

He leans forward and brings me in for a gentle kiss.

Splash!

"Scar!"