A/N: This is my first attempt at writing a chapter fanfic. I'm still carrying the major league torch for Alex/Izzie (they're one of my most loved TV couples). If only Shonda and Katherine could work it out... But anyway, I've always heard that if you don't like something, change it. So here it is - my version of how I wish season 9 would play out. This is set after 'Transplant Wasteland' - Episode 9.17 (with the exception that Jo has no Chest Peckwell in her life at this point). Inspired by the wonderful lyrical musings of Jack Johnson's 'Upside Down.' Feedback would be amazing. If you read this, thank you!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything concerned with/relating to Grey's Anatomy.
Chapter 1: Little Reminders
Denny died. Izzie lapsed into a numbing, soul-crushing disbelief. In a pink prom dress. On the bathroom floor, no less. Lying down beside her on that same bathroom floor, George, Meredith, and even Cristina all attempted to remove her from that numbness. Or to at least remove her from that dress - the dress that she wore while she broke down in her dead fiancé's arms. But it was Alex who was the one who had removed her from the arms of her dead fiancé and cradled her in his own arms until the crying stopped and the numbness really took her over. Alex was the one who had brushed her hair out of her face and noticed all traces of that sparkle in her eyes, all traces of what made Izzie Izzie, were lost behind that numbing disbelief. Everyone else knew Denny's death would be terribly hard for Izzie to bear, and they all felt it would be best to be easy with handling her until she regained some of her former self. But not Alex Karev, no. The moment he had seen that dullness in her eyes, he vowed to himself that he would be the one to coax back that sparkle. He knew Izzie Stevens was stronger and more capable than just being a shadow of her former self. So when someone - Cristina, maybe... he couldn't remember - finally convinced her to stand up and take off the dress, Alex waited. Watching. Waiting for Izzie to need him.
Izzie baked excessively. All of the roommates gained a little weight thanks to her quirky coping mechanism, and they saw Izzie coming back to herself. And she was, little by little, but Alex still saw that she had moments of that numbing clarity. She still had occasional break-downs that no one but Alex saw. Usually these moments happened in the shower; she turned the hot water knob full blast - hoping that the scalding liquid hitting her skin would ease the ache in her soul. He worried about her more in those times than at any other, but then one night, she had made a breakthrough and he knew she would be fine.
That night, Alex had been lying in his bed in the dark. His door partially open, he heard Meredith come in and sit at the bar, engaging Izzie in conversation while Izzie made her third batch of cupcakes for the night. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but Izzie suddenly exclaimed, "Seriously?!" loudly and he heard Meredith's short and punctuated "Seriously" follow after Izzie's. Everything seemed to be fine, and before long, he heard Meredith go to bed. Wanting to keep her company, Alex headed toward the kitchen and froze in the doorway when he saw Izzie. She leaned back against the sink, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs. Izzie - the great pretender. Only she didn't hold herself together with tape and glue - cake mixes and cupcake recipes held her together at the seams. She presented the façade of getting better to her friends, and she fell apart when they were not around. A wooden spoon covered in some sort of chocolate goo was held up in one hand, and she cradled the bowl of chocolate goo (maybe cake mix) against her stomach. Endless assortments of cupcakes were stacked on nearly every surface in the kitchen, and Alex would have teased her under different circumstances. But he noticed she was wearing his baggy Iowa sweatshirt, and chocolate goo was smeared on her chin while a steady stream of tears streamed down her face. And he had had enough.
"Denny's dead, Iz. Dead. Cold. A freakin' corpse, okay? All the cupcakes in the world won't bring him back." While saying this, he had marched over to her and snatched the spoon and bowl from her clutches, putting both in the sink. She had thrown her arms around herself, and he grabbed her shoulders firmly and stared into her eyes even though she wouldn't meet his. "You're hurt, yeah. You lost the love of your life... or whatever. I get it. But you're not broken. Denny's dead. You're not. You hear me, Iz? You're. Not. Dead. Quit acting like a damn ghost." At this, she tore herself away from his grip and ran out of the kitchen, and he went in pursuit of her. She stopped right before his bedroom door - seemingly collapsing in upon herself. Alex watched her slump down against the wall and bring her knees tightly up to her chest, all while she sobbed forcefully into the baggy sleeves of her (well, technically, his) sweatshirt. With his jaw clenched, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looked down at his bare feet.
"Iz... Look, I'm sorry, okay?" He mumbled, more to his feet than to her, and then cast his eyes in her direction. He knew this apology wouldn't suffice. Because he knew her. With her in such a vulnerable place, he would have to piss her off to make her open up. In these types of emotional states, she wanted to internalize everything instead of putting it out in the open. He knew that - he knew her. And he knew that she knew that... he was her polar opposite, after all. For him, a problem could be eradicated with booze or sex or even both, and that was all he needed to make peace with himself. But she wasn't like that. He took a few tentative steps toward her, then growled through clinched teeth. "Quit crying, damn it. You -," he was cut off by a blur of blonde as she lunged up from the floor, letting out an exasperated cry that was more of a growl.
"Shut up! Just shut up, Alex! Fuck you! God, what is it with you?! You ruin everything!" She began pushing against his chest forcefully, signaling that she wanted him to go away. "Everything, Alex! You're a ruiner!" Izzie screamed, continuing with the barrage of fists against his chest. 'There she is. She's gonna be okay,' he thought, and he just leaned back onto his heels, absorbing the blows that didn't really hurt, waiting for her to signal to him that it was okay to touch her. He kept his hands in his pockets. Waiting. Watching the signs on her face. She was no longer crying - but her face was still red and splotchy, her eyes still swollen and puffy - with the look of someone who has been "really boo-hooing." Just as he could hear her describing it. Her assault on his chest became more and more half-hearted, and he felt tears splash onto his arm, finally signaling that she was crying again and it was safe for him to hold her. He removed his hands from his pockets and pulled her against him. She let out a small sob and pressed her face into his neck. He felt her relax, and certain that he felt the smear of cake mix that had been on her chin transfer to his collarbone, he pressed his lips to the top of her head. He stood there, holding her against him in the hallway, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair, and let her go through the emotions of losing the man she had loved. And that precise moment is when he realized that she is who he loved, and he would always love her.
Alex snapped back to reality when he felt a hard nudge to his shoulder.
"Karev? Are you gonna buy that dress or are you gonna listen to me?" Jo Wilson asked, her eyebrows raised. Both having to work the same shift later, they had been on their way to eat dinner at a little dive that Alex, when he didn't feel like seeing the regular crowd at Joe's, liked to frequent before heading to the hospital.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm listening," Alex shrugged, pointing up the sidewalk, motioning for her to keep walking. She shot him a furtive glance, and then they continued toward the restaurant.
"Wow. Never knew prom dresses were your thing," Jo gave him another questioning glance and then launched back into talking about some new cutting-edge surgery performed in Germany that she had been reading about. Just seconds ago, Alex, genuinely interested, had been listening until something in a window display caught his eye.
The eye-catching culprit was a frilly, pink prom dress similar enough to the one Izzie had worn that fateful night of Denny's death that it had stopped Alex in his tracks. The memory of that night, and the night that he had snapped her out of a breakdown in Meredith's kitchen, came flooding back to him with shocking clarity. He had only paused, lost in thought, for three or four seconds, but now he felt muddled. Distracted. Definitely no longer listening to Jo - even though he heard her naming details of the German surgical case like he was still raptly listening.
But he was lost in his own thoughts. The pink prom dress had jarred him. Little reminders of Izzie had been everywhere for the past few weeks. Everyone knew Alex didn't give a whole lot of thought to the relationship statuses of others - much less how they related to him. However, ever since he had purchased Meredith's house, he realized everyone had someone except him. Meredith and Derek. Robbins and Torres. Yang and Hunt. Bailey had gotten remarried. Even Jackson had a piece of hot intern action. And even though he and Jo had nothing more than a friendly exchange, he had thought about taking it to the next level with her because he felt loneliness just like everyone else. But that would be selfish. He didn't feel that way about Jo.
He felt a suspicion that maybe Jo harbored more than friendly feelings toward him, but then, he couldn't be sure about that, either. The purchase of Meredith's house and her big damn mouth is what had thrown him in this uncertainty about everything. When convincing him to buy it, Meredith was the one who had said something about the house holding lots of memories, something about the failed rager Izzie threw when they had all just moved in. And, though of course, he had thought of his ex-wife over the years, - sometimes bitterly, most times longingly - she had overwhelmed his thoughts recently. Distracting him. 'Making me think this crazy shit,' Alex thought, and he allowed himself to smile a little.
"Okay, I'm just gonna shut up. You're weird and spacey now. You see a ghost or something back there?" Jo huffed at him, slapping his arm lightly.
He had answered her with grunts and nods as they walked, but he knew that she knew he had stopped paying true attention. They had reached the restaurant, and he winked at her while opening the door for her. "You'll live, whine bag. And something like that."
"You hear me, Iz? You're. Not. Dead. Quit acting like a damn ghost."
If she only knew.