𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 ━━ 𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐝

seventy one | proud

"How are you holding up, kiddo?"

"What did you just call me?"

Mark slams the car door shut behind me. "I was trying something new, alright? Since Derek's busy with his trial, I'm on parenting duty."

"Rephrase that, for the love of God." I step over the curb towards the hospital.

"Look, whatever you need from me, just say the word." He follows closely behind. "Coffee, donuts, a tissue —"

"Tell me the latest in your life."

"The latest what?"

"Like. . .anything happen recently?"

A visible chill runs down his body, leading to him avoiding direct eye contact. I cock an inquisitive brow in response and stare him down until given a response:

"I knocked someone up."

Smack!

The palm of my hand as well as Mark's forearm sting from the impact. A short gasp leaves my lips, and I stare in shock of my own reflex.

"Mark, I am so —"

"No, I deserved that. I really deserved that."

As soon as we walk through the sliding doors, Lexie eagerly approaches us. First, she brings me into a warm embrace, whispering some kind words of encouragement. Next, her focus turns to the slut of the century.

"Hey, you got any dinner plans tonight?"

"No."

"I'm cooking for you tonight. Your place. I also rocked a lap chole."

Leaving barely a second for him to register her words, Lexie presses a kiss to his cheek before running off to the front desk.

He releases a deep breath full of stress and frustration.

"You haven't told her yet, have you?"

"Nope. And I won't be telling her until after my home-cooked meal."

"Can I just say there is nothing more entertaining than hearing about your troubles? I mean, how can one person have so much going on in their life?"

While I laugh aloud in a teasing way, Mark pushes through the swinging doors to reveal Derek standing in front of the O.R. board.

"The pipsqueak is being a nuisance, Derek."

"The pipsqueak is my wife, Mark."

"The pipsqueak can hear, you know."

Derek greets me with a toothy smile and a soft kiss to the corner of my lips. Mark leaves, grumbling about his dilemma in hushed whispers.

"How's the trial going so far?"

"Pretty well. Our second patient was just admitted."

"I'll leave you to it then."

Just before I can head to the resident lounge, however, Derek cups a hand to my upper arm and tugs me back.

"How are you holding up?"

"It's getting easier to get out of bed. But now that everyone knows, it'd be nice not to be stared at like an orphaned child, which — other than the child part — is entirely true."

As if mocking what I have to say, Derek's face morphs into one of pity.

"See? That is the look."

"Leven —"

"I'm gonna stop by the coffee cart. And no, I won't grab you a flat white or split a slice of iced lemon loaf with you."

"Alright, I know I shouldn't have made the face —"

"Maybe I'll play the dead dad card and get a muffin."

And with that, I depart the O.R. wing, leaving the poor man to stand alone, completely flabbergasted.

Once I've settled into an empty conference room with some remaining paperwork dealing with the estate and accounts, the door swings open with an interruption.

"Callie's having my baby."

"Afternoon to you, too, Mark."

"Best news of my life. At least, it would be. Except for the fact that Lexie wants a baby about as much as she wants a root canal."

Mark tugs his ear a few times.

"I guess I could tell her I'm the baby's uncle. But I don't wanna be the cool uncle. The cool uncle's only cool until the kid's, like, nine. Then the cool uncle's just creepy."

"Right. Of course. Everyone knows that."

"I'm the dad. I want this. . .and I want Lexie."

I sip the half-cup of herbal tea left. "As glad as I am you feel comfortable enough to talk to me about something like this, why are you telling me?"

"Because I want your opinion." He plops into an adjacent chair. "I don't know what to do, and usually you do, so. . .what do I do?"

"You tell her about Callie before she finds out another way. And. . .you hope for the best."

He lightly nods his head, a light grin appearing out of nowhere.

"Are you passing gas or something?"

"You've given quite the advice over the last few years, Leven."

On his way out the door, Mark claps a hand over my shoulder.

"Lennox Phoenix would be proud of you."

As I sit with the paperwork, Mark's words ring evidently in my head, and I find myself unable to think about anything else.

Salty tears stream down my cheeks.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Thought I'd find you here."

I sit in the middle of the freshly-cut green grass, a bouquet of orange plumed celosias resting against the headstone.

LENNOX PHOENIX

a surgeon, a friend, a father

oct. 1st 1950 - jan. 19th 2011

With his hands in his pockets, Derek steps out of his car and weaves through the headstones until he's standing in front of me.

"Do you think he'd be proud of me?"

"There's not a doubt in me that says otherwise."

He kneels next to me, placing on a corner of the headstone and dusting it off. My head leans against his shoulder, and I feel him press a kiss to the top of it.

"When does it stop hurting, Derek?"

"It never really stops, Leven. But. . .it'll get easier. And I will be there every step of the way."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."