𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 ━━ 𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐝

eighty | celebrate

"Congratulations."

"What did I do?"

Derek greets me in the kitchen with a swift kiss to the cheek. I greet him with narrowed eyes and a suspicious expression.

"Again, what did I do?" I repeat in a more stern tone.

"You're fourteen weeks today." He tosses a peach between his hands. "Thought we agreed to start telling people at fourteen weeks, starting with Cristina."

My throat grows dry. "Isn't today the day we find out if the judge ruled for or against the hospital being at fault?"

"No, the lawyers just moved for summary judgment, which is a formality. Then it's gonna go to trial, which means a decision could take months."

"It doesn't have to take months."

"Leven. . ." He circles the island and places his hands at my hips. "You hit fourteen weeks. The baby's the size of a peach. Forget about the crash, and let's focus on this. Try to relax a little and enjoy it."

The peach is tossed back into the fruit bowl.

"And tell your other half. She'll be happy for you."

"That's if I tell her."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Now go play ping-pong with an intern."

At the hospital, Cristina lingers around the nurses' station discussing something about Webber and Jackson with April. Once she's driven the redhead away with a sexual innuendo, her direction turns to me.

"Are you and Owen a thing again?"

"I. . .don't know. All I know is having sex with a man who used to be your husband is way more fun than when he is your husband."

"Might have to divorce Derek then."

"Well, don't knock it till you try it."

She holds out the tin of chocolate chip cookies to me, to which I grab a napkin and pile about seven or so.

"So, um, is there something you want to, uh, tell me?"

"Is there something you want me to tell you?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"There's nothing that I have to tell you."

"Okay, then."

The five of us are then called to the courthouse, where the judge has made a decision: the hospital was found negligent, and we each receive fifteen million.

And Callie insists we celebrate with dinner tonight.

"Cookie?" I reveal the stack in my pocket to Derek. "Webber got some from Jackson's mother, but he didn't want them, so he gave them to Cristina —"

"Did you tell her?" He snags the top one.

"Tell whom what?"

"Play a game with me. Best two out of three?"

"But what about —"

"Ross, take a lap."

And without another word, the intern runs out of the conference room. I take the paddle from the table and prepare for a simple game.

"How's the wrist doing?"

"Fine."

Smack!

The white ball flies past me before I can return the serve.

"I'll tell her when it's the right time."

"And when is the right time?"

"When she doesn't feel conflicted between winning the case and Owen, alright? Excuse me for being sensitive about that."

He nearly topples to the ground after swerving to get to — and miss — my pass.

"Are you going to the dinner?"

"I don't know, you're kinda my ride, remember?"

"And when everyone drinks champagne?"

"I'll have apple juice!"

And the winning ball strikes towards his end, knocking into the glass window behind him and startling the spectators.

"Game. . .set. . .match."

That night, the four plane crash survivors and Callie sit around the dining table at the restaurant, the only sound coming from clattering forks.

"How's everyone's dinner?" Callie smiles around the table.

Choruses of four "good"s chime throughout before falling into silence again. A waiter comes by with what looks to be an expensive bottle of champagne.

"I'd like to make a toast." She clinks her champagne flute.

"Oh, Callie, no toasts." Arizona is quick to shut her down. "You know what? Let's just get this dinner over with —"

"Arizona stood for five hours. Do you realize how big a deal it is, you standing for five hours? And do you know what else happened today? Derek played ping-pong."

"And lost. Badly."

"And wanted to keep on playing 'cause his wrist wasn't sore."

"And because I wanted to try to avenge my loss."

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, causing the table to burst out in laughter. A red tinge spreads across my cheeks when Derek nods his chin flirtily.

"See? We're all trying. We're trying to move on, which is progress."

The waiter returns, having popped open the champagne bottle. He pours each empty flute halfway full.

"It feels weird. And sad. And wrong. But it also feels exciting." Callie releases a sad sigh. "I miss Mark. And Lexie. And Meredith. And I'm. . .heartbroken that they're not here tonight. I'm heartbroken, but. . ." She clears her throat. "I'm also grateful. That all of you are. And I'm gonna celebrate that. And we are gonna toast."

The five of us look at each other.

"Come on. Toast. Pick up your glasses and toast."

The waiter approaches behind me, but I shake my head.

"Sorry, I don't drink. Thank you."

"Get her an L.P. — sorry. A club soda with lime, please."

"Um, I'm trying to limit the fizz, sorry." I fluster on the spot. "I'll just have another water, then."

"Leven, you're at least having a club soda. We're all having champagne, so you have to have something fizzy in your cup."

"I'd love to, but I really can't."

"Just try. Try. Come on." Callie whines with a slight frown. "Is it too much to ask you to try?"

Derek catches my glance and barely gives a nod, a nod of encouragement, as he finally lets loose and relishes in the big news.

"No, it's not. But. . .I'm pregnant."

Cristina breaks out in a grin, Callie and Arizona grab hands in excitement, and Derek nods his head proudly.

"Let's celebrate."

Four champagne flutes and a water glass chime against one another over the happy news and all of our reasons to celebrate.