this is the golden age of something Good and Right and Real

so you were never a saint

"What's your damage?"

Izzie's eyes narrow at the camera. "What? You asked how things were going, I told you."

Cristina's face goes slightly pixelated as she moves from one hotspot to another. Their video chats are always made on the move; Cristina moving from one stakeholders meeting to the next, Izzie in between surgeries. "You complained for ten minutes about a group of interns who last week you were calling 'the wave of the future'."

"So?" Izzie counters. "Today they're idiots."

"And then you bitched about every procedure you've done since I called you last month."

"Your point?"

"Izzie, you bubble over about mesorectal excisions - literally digging cancer out of people's butts. But today, not one good thing to say?"

She rolls her eyes and takes a swig of a now-flat Diet Coke. "So I'm in a shitty mood."

Cristina dips off screen for a minute to sign a form someone is asking her for, but then reappears, eyeing Izzie with a renewed, critical focus. "Are you PMSing?"

"Rude."

"Are you pregnant?"

"Don't even joke about that."

"Is Alex being... well, himself?"

This softens Izzie for a moment. "He is, but in a good way," she answers. "Last night he stayed up late and helped Alexis put together a costume for her social studies class of her favorite historical figure."

"Who'd she pick?"

"Britney Spears."

"Classic choice. Atta girl."

She becomes suddenly aware of the smile that spreads over her face and the tension that creeps out of her shoulders. All of a sudden the truth of what Cristina has been saying hits her: now that she's relaxed, she realizes that she's been in a terrible mood for... well, at least a week. Maybe even as long as she can remember.

Izzie does a quick, frantic scan of her mental calendar. No, she's not pregnant. And no, it's not PMS.

It's work stress, she thinks. Gotta be. And her interns are idiots... today at least. They'd annoy anyone.

"You talked to Mer recently?" she asks now, trying to sound a little more cheerful.

Cristina scoffs. "Yes, to bring her to her senses by reminding that Minnesota turns into an Arctic hellscape every winter. You?"

"She called Alex a few weeks ago. She's trying to convince us to bring the kids out this summer."

"Oh yeah, me too. She's calling it a family reunion."

"That's cute," Izzie says, but the second she hears the word family, her mood plummets back down.

What's wrong with me?

* * *

The rest of the day is no better.

She snaps at her favorite anesthesiologist, criticizes the best floor nurse in the hospital for a horrible chart. By the end of the day, even Izzie is sick of herself.

She parks in the driveway that night and steels herself. Nighttime in her and Alex's house is pandemonium on the best days: jelly smears and homework and toys on every surface, shouts and taunts and tears as the twins drive each other and their little sister insane. Alex is a hands on and attentive dad, but the chaos seems to roll off his back, so he never even tries to stem the tide.

So Izzie takes some deep breaths and tries to prepare herself. Do not be the mom who screams at her kids because she's having a bad day, she lectures herself. Just put on the Mary Poppins face until bedtime.

Of course, that goes out the window when she climbs out of her BMW and nearly breaks her ankle on Eli's skateboard.

"Son-of-a!"

She storms up the porch steps and bangs into the house, ready to let her son have it.

But the house is quiet - the kind of quiet that speaks to empty rooms.

Izzie does a quick pass through the house and, yes, no one's home. She circles back into the kitchen where she sees a hastily scrawled note on the countertop:

Took the monsters for pizza. xx Alex

PS - Check the bathtub.

"Great," she mutters. "Don't tell me the damn faucet is leaking again."

If it's not one thing it's another.

She fairly stalks into the master bathroom, pushing her sleeves up as she goes. But what greets her isn't a plumbing issue. Instead, sitting on the edge of her beloved soaking tub is the most beautiful bottle of Blanton's single barrel she's ever seen and a rocks glass, accompanied by a beautifully drawn up little package. Izzie opens it to find a set of Lush bath bombs - the jasmine ones she's obsessed with.

Within minutes, she's chin-deep in the heavenly-scented water, a glass full of whiskey in her hand.

It's like her terrible day never happened, like the black mood that's been stalking her was all a dream. Izzie closes her eyes and soaks and floats and sighs.

She's refreshed the hot water at least twice by the time someone knocks on her door.

"Come in," she says sleepily.

Alex pokes his head into the room. The corner of his mouth quirks up when he sees her.

"I take it you found your present."

"Angel," she breathes. "You've got wings, baby." She sits up a little, her head pleasantly swimming from the two glasses of whiskey she's drank. "Where are the kids?" She glances over at the clock on her vanity. "Do you need me to help you with bedtime?"

"Nah." He crosses the room and settles on the edge of the tub. "I asked Anh to come over for a few hours to handle bedtime. She's wrangling them into pajamas as we speak."

All at once Izzie's eyes are blurry with tears. She passes a hand over her eyes and presses her fingers to her lips.

"How did you..." Her voice cracks. She shakes her head, tries again. "How did you know? I was... Today was horrible. I was horrible. How did you know this is what I needed?"

Alex gives her a long, loaded look for a minute. Then he reaches down for her hand.

"Iz. It's May third. It's--"

Realization crystalizes in her mind, and all at once she sees his face.

"George's birthday." The tears are back, now, flowing down her cheeks. "I didn't - I didn't even realize." She looks up at her husband. "But you did."

Alex passes his hand over her face. His fingertips come away wet. "I know how it is for you, every year," he says. "Today sucks. I get that. And I just... wanted to make it a little better."

"Thank you," she whispers. "Just... thank you."

"Sure."

He holds her hand for a minute, then lifts it and presses a kiss onto her wrist. "You want me to leave you alone?" he asks. "Take all the time you want."

Izzie shakes her head. "No. No, what I want now is for my husband to take off his clothes and get into this tub with me."

Alex's eyebrows shoot up. "This wasn't a seduction," he tells her. "I feel like I gotta make that clear. This was, like, you know, emotional care and love and all that good-husband crap."

She laughs at that, really laughs. "I know," she says when her giggles die down. "I know that, you idiot."

"Hey, watch it." He snatches the glass of Blanton's away from her. "Whiskey makes you mean."

She takes the glass back and sets it down on the ground. "Get in here," she orders.

And he does.