A drabble for the Grey's Anatomy Last Fic Author Standing challenge on LiveJournal. The prompt was "adopting."

Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three bites into a warm, gooey grilled cheese sandwich, six-year-old Derek Shepherd looked across the table at his mother.

"Mom?" he said, wearing a thoughtfully perplexed expression. Eagerness hid behind his big blue eyes. "Can we adopt Mark?"

Carolyn Shepherd raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What do you mean, Derek?"

"I mean adopt him," the boy repeated as if emphasis meant clarity. "You and Dad would be his parents, and he would be my brother."

"Derek," Nancy piped in sharply, "we can't do that. Stupid." The eight-year-old's mouth twisted into a smirk at her brother's indignation.

"I'm not stupid!" He began to seethe and Carolyn chuckled to herself, thankful that only the youngest two were on her hands.

"I'm sorry, Derek, but she's right. Not that you're stupid, of course," she added quickly at the flash of terror in his eyes. "We can't adopt Mark. Adoption is for children who don't have capable parents. Mark already has a mom and a dad to take care of him."

"But Mark doesn't like his parents," he argued matter-of-factly. "That's why he likes it here so much. They don't make him lunch or read him stories or play with him. Not even catch." It was obviously a glaringly preposterous concept to him.

Carolyn gave her son a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but there are some things that just aren't possible."

With that, Derek slumped back in his chair and folded his arms, defeated.

"I'm glad we can't adopt Mark," commented Nancy nonchalantly. "He's weird."

Carolyn tried very hard not to laugh at the incredulous outrage that contorted her son's tiny face.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

That night, when everyone was in bed, Derek's suggestion was still on Carolyn's mind. It was a funny image: Derek's honey-blond, sinewy friend amongst the skinny brunette Shepherd children. She smiled softly to herself.

If I could, I would.

The Sloans were hardly abusive – just absent. No grounds for action by any protective service. He was always fed (though he did eat two or three helpings at the Shepherd house simply for the pleasure of eating an actual home-cooked meal). He was always clothed, more expensively than any other child she knew. The problem was just the way they were: rich, socialite WASPs with the fake smiles and whispered fighting that would have made Carolyn think they should never have children.

But, they did.

If she hadn't met Mark, she wouldn't have known it was possible for a six-year-old to have dark circles under his eyes. If she hadn't met Mark, she wouldn't have known it was possible for parents not to make their child the center of their world, to hug him just to hug him, or to pay enough attention to be truly proud of what he was becoming; all the things he deserved.

It broke her heart. But that was on them. They were his parents.

All she could do was invite Mark over for dinner often and pray that, one day, the Sloans would see what they have.