A/N: I know this is terribly outdated, but it was stuck in my mind. Let me know if you think Alex is OOC! :D (Oh yeah, I lifted the dialogue directly from the episode. That may be plagarism, but I'm just letting you know, I don't own the characters or the dialogue.)
I tug at my tie. I can't believe I'm at the prom. I thought I'd be free of that after graduating med school, but no. I'm at the freaking prom.
Wait, that's not what's pissing me off. I'm at the freaking prom alone.
There we go.
I take another sip of my punch, which unfortunately is not spiked in the slightest. Where the hell is everyone else?
By everyone else, I mean my fellow interns. Everyone else is waltzing around, gazing into each other's eyes romantically, and I am dutifully upholding my role as the bad boy who won't participate. But I'm only here because the Nazi demanded it.
If I wasn't here to pretend everything was fabulous with this fake prom, I'd probably be with everyone at the bar, celebrating Denny's new heart. Even though Izzie had to turn all psycho-bitch to get it, she got her happy ending. And all of our celebrations involve many rounds.
Not medical rounds. Rounds of drinks.
I contemplate working this pun into a pick-up line, faintly smiling at the way I'd imagine the night would end, but then Dr. Montgomery-Shepard or whatever the hell her name is comes up to me.
"Have you seen Derek?" she asks me.
I have seen Derek, in fact, but since he was leaving with Meredith so they could probably screw like rabbits, I just say, "No. Not in a while. Why?"
"We need some help with Izzie." She is staring at me intently. "She's in room 2304."
For a moment, I worry that Izzie's done something stupid and hurt herself.
But then I think.
2304. That's Denny's room.
Why didn't she just say that it was Denny's—?
Oh.
Oh.
"Christ," I breathe.
She nods somewhat absentmindedly. "She won't leave him."
Before I really think about it, the glass of punch is gone from my hand, and I'm starting to run up the stairs, and Addison is following behind me, hiking up her skirt to move faster.
"She won't let anyone in," she tells me, not even suggesting that we slow down even though I know we're making a scene. I appreciate this. "Everyone else is trying to persuade her to leave, but she won't listen."
The few doctors and nurses not roped into the prom thing get out of my way without asking questions. They must know about Denny. Gossip travels quickly.
Meredith, Christina, and Olivia are huddled around the door to Denny's room when we get there, and I can see George has already moved in a few steps. Addison stops a few steps back from the door.
"I'll give her some privacy," she says. "Good luck."
I don't break stride as she stops, and in the doorway they part the way just as quickly as in the hallway.
Jesus.
She's on the bed with him.
She's got her hand on his chest, like she's checking for a heartbeat, and her head is nestled into his neck.
"Can you please, please, just get out? I want to be alone with Denny," she says.
Something in my chest twists. "Izzie," I start, my mouth dry. "That's not Denny."
She stares in my general direction, but I know she's not focused on me. "Shut up," she whispers.
"Izz, it's not Denny," I continue. I have to get her out of this room. "The minute his heart stopped beating he stopped being Denny.
Someone in the doorway shifts like they're going to stop me, but I keep going. I know I have to. "Now, I know you love him, but he also loved you. And a guy that loves you like that, he doesn't want you to do this to yourself. Because it's not Denny, not anymore."
Izzie is still staring at nothing, and I move towards her slowly. "An hour ago he was proposing," she whispers. "And now…and now he's going to the morgue. Isn't that ridiculous? Isn't it the most ridiculous piece of crap you've ever—"
Her tears finally burble up, and she grabs the front of Denny's shirt tighter as she starts sobbing. Gently, I step forward and pick her up, and for a moment, I fear she's not going to let go of Denny. But she relinquishes the fabric, and turns into my neck, bawling openly now.
I sit back in the visitor's chair, and she cries into the collar of my tux. The other interns in the doorway look away awkwardly, but I try to just focus on Izzie.
"It's okay," I murmur, rubbing her back. "It's okay."
But we both know.
It's not okay.
I'm not sure how long we sat there. She had gotten up without saying anything, and without asking, I knew to follow her.
She leads us down the hallway, to the top of the stairs where the Chief is standing. He knows about Denny. I can see it in his expression.
"It was me," Izzie says, the tears starting to shake her voice. "I cut his LVAD wire. I did it, no one helped me."
I look down, at the others, anywhere but at her.
"And now…I thought I was a surgeon, but…I can't. I thought I was a surgeon, but I am not…so I quit."
Her head is still held high as she starts to turn away from the Chief, and even though Bailey calls after her, she starts her graceful descent down the stairs. George and I follow her, not saying anything.
There is nothing left to say.
Even though she has been though enough tonight, more than enough for a lifetime, as the prom comes into view, I know it's not over. She stops at the bottom of the stairs.
"Izzie," I say.
But she sinks to her knees, perched awkwardly on the steps, still clinging to the railing. "What have I done?" she whispers. Then louder, "Alex, what have I done?"
The people at the prom are staring. Pointing. Whispering.
She has been through enough.
"George," I say over Izzie's panicked breathing. "Get your car."
He jumps to attention, and rushes out to the parking lot.
I kneel down beside Izzie, and she wraps her arms around my neck again, and I lift her up. We have to get away from these people now.
Without thinking, I carry her into the locker room. I hadn't thought about it before, but now I'm just thankful that it's close to the front doors. I set her on the bench, and she curls up in a ball, but the fabric of her dress is puffing up around her. I try to bat it down gently, but it's just too much.
"Scrubs," I say to myself. Izzie moans softly.
I hurriedly throw open any unlocked lockers and pull out the scrubs inside. Most of them are far too big, and Izzie is in no position to get her own locker open. Finally, as I find a set of scrubs inside maybe Olivia's locker, George rushes back in.
"I got the car," he says. "One of Camille's friends said you went in here."
"I think she'd be more comfortable in scrubs," I say, suddenly awkward. "Like pj's but not."
George nods, and crouches down in front of Izzie. "Hey, Izz, we're gonna help you change, and then we can head home, okay?"
She doesn't say anything, just staring off again. He steps around her, and I'm suddenly glad George is here. They're roommates. She'd probably take it better if he helped her than me.
As he reaches for the zipper, I turn around to give her some privacy. But before the metallic zip starts, Izzie screams, loud enough to be heard at the prom, upstairs, anywhere in the hospital. I whirl back around, and George jumps back.
"Leave me the fuck alone," Izzie whispers, clinging to the skirt of her dress.
"Okay, okay, Izz, I will," George says quickly. "I didn't mean anything like—"
This was a terrible idea. The people at the dance probably think that we're doing something horrible.
"Izzie," I say softly, stepping back in front of her. "Do you want to go home?"
She stares at me, with tears dribbling out onto the bench she's lying on. "Yes," she whispers.
I gently pick her up again, and George gets the door. I was right, the people at the prom are staring at us. George, however, steps in front of me and Izzie, somewhat blocking us from view.
"Thanks," I say gruffly.
"No problem," he replies.
George's tiny little car is idling in front of the hospital, and a few "clown car" jokes pop up in my mind. But I know damned well that this is not the time for that. Izzie allows herself to be placed into the backseat, and buckled in, but does not respond. As George and I walk around to the other side of the car, we exchange worried glances, but nothing more. We get in, he drives, and not a damned word is spoken the entire way back.
At least occasionally George and I make eye contact. Izzie just stares, and when we get to their house, she allows me to pick her up like a sleeping child.
He leads the way to her room silently, and even though my arms are aching, I know Izzie is in more pain than I am, so I suck it up and follow him.
Gently, I set her down on the bed, and George covers her and the mountain of tulle with a blanket. "I'll be back later, Izz," I say softly, but she doesn't respond.
We walk back down to the front door silently, until George quietly says, "Thanks, Alex."
"It's okay."
I don't really know what to say, and George seems to be searching for something else to say, but he just pats my shoulder awkwardly and smiles sadly.
I nod. There isn't really anything we can say now. He turns and sighs, silently getting up the strength to comfort her before slowly heading up the stairs.
After a second I realize that I have no car. Instead of going back to demand a ride from O'Malley, like I would normally, but tonight, I just put my hands in my pockets and start walking. I don't mind the extra time it'll take for me to get home. I've got a lot to think about, anyway.
What happened to the happy ending?
A/N: Thanks for reading! If you want to review, that's cool :D