It had been thirteen years since she had first walked through the doors of Seattle Grace Hospital and six since she had walked out. Yet as her dark amber gaze locked on the photograph on the cover of Newsweek she couldn't help but be taken back. Her fingers reached out to trace the curve of his chin as she let her head fall back against the firm cushion of her black executive chair. They hadn't exactly parted on the best terms.
"Izzie!" he called as he chased after her in the rain. "Iz wait up!" As his footsteps neared, she paused and turned to face him. "What do you want Alex? We've said everything that needed to be said." Pain was etched across her soft features as her golden hair turned dark from the falling droplets of water. "Come on Izzie don't do this. Please." She threw up her hands as she angrily shook her head. "No Alex this is exactly how this is going to end. Goodbye." She turned and left him that night, standing in the middle of the parking lot as the heavens opened up and unleashed their fury on the earth.
"Doctor Stevens your one-thirty is running late. They'll be here in twenty minutes." The voice of her assistant pulled her from her thoughts and she ran her hand down her face as a soft chuckle slipped past her lips. "Just let me know when they get here," she answered as she reached over and pressed the intercom button. As her gaze drifted back to the magazine that now rested on her desk, she was silently grateful for the extra time. She hadn't expected to be confronted with emotions she had long buried, and she needed a few moments to compose herself.
"Doctor Stevens, Doctor O'Malley on line one." A bright smile warmed her previously sullen features as she reached for the receiver. "Hey George, what's up?" she asked as she reclined in her chair and crossed her slender legs.
"Oh you know, just calling to say hi and see what you were up to and maybe see if you've read anything interesting lately…"
She smirked as she swiveled in her chair to look out the large picture window. "Yes I've seen the latest issue of Newsweek George."
"How did you know I was calling about that? I could have been calling about something—"
"Seriously? How long have we known each other?"
"Yeah okay. So do you want to talk about it or anything because I can come over and we could talk. You know, if you wanted."
"I'm totally fine George, I swear." She let out a silent sigh as she watched the rain stream down the glass.
"Are you sure? I mean it says that he's—"
"George I'm fine and I really need to get back to work. I'll see you Friday night for dinner okay?"
"Yeah sure, I'll see you then."
She hung up the phone and reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Okay so maybe she had lied when she said that she was totally fine, but she was a little fine, and that had to count for something right? Yeah, right. She had lost track of how many times she had tried to convince herself that everything was okay and that she had gotten exactly what she had always wanted, and up until that magazine landed on her desk she had stopped with the 'what ifs.'
A loud knock on her door pulled her out of her reverie and she quickly moved to smooth out the pristine while lab coat that graced her shoulders. "Come in," she called as she pulled open a drawer and dropped the periodical inside. "Now what is it that I can do for you today Mrs. –"
She felt like a ton of bricks had been placed on her chest as her lungs struggled to replace the air that had been knocked out of her. Any other words caught in her throat as her mouth fell slightly ajar and for a few tediously long seconds all she could do was stare.
"I'm sorry to barge in here like this, but I had to see you."
It had been six years, three months and fourteen days since she had left him standing there that night and suddenly she could no longer remember why.
