Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Grey's. Clearly.

A/n: While I am first and foremost a George/Izzie fan, I also quite enjoy Izzie/Denny, and the song "Probably Wouldn't Be This Way" by Leanne Rimes I have been wanting to use for a fic forever. And while I have had many a ideas for it, Izzie and Denny fit it best. This is pretty angsty and I'm also experimenting with a new style of writing for this one, so please let me know what you think.

Probably Wouldn't Be This Way

She settles onto the fresh cut grass and blinks away the mist invading her eyes.

It's been a month. The obsessive baking has subsided a bit, you should know, and I still have the cheque from you. I say it every time, but thank you so much for that. It was a nice surprise… a nice gift after… well, you know. And "nice" doesn't really cover it, but…

It doesn't help with the pain, though. Nothing does.

She turns away for a moment, her throat momentarily constricted. The feeling passes and she returns her gaze.

Meredith has somehow managed to get me to go on a date with some supposedly cute young preacher's son who lives down the street from the hospital. He came in a few days ago needing stitches. Christina said he was completely mental, which kind of makes me want to go on a date with him even less than I already do.

She smiles a little, thinking of what he would say to what she just told him, but it disappears quickly.

I don't want to go on this date, because it's only been a month. One month! That's too soon to do anything like that, to even think of doing anything like that. Way too soon.

I… sometimes I go upstairs and lock myself in the bathroom, just to lay on the floor for a while, like I did right after… you know, after it happened. It's somehow weirdly comforting. I don't know why.

She plucks at the green grass beneath her absently and signs heavily. Though the sun warms her back, she barely notices. It could be pouring rain and she likely would not have noticed.

Sometimes I imagine the times I spent in your room with you. Other times I imagine having a conversation with you, telling you about my day, telling you that I… that I'm h-having trouble moving on.

She bites her lip and blinks rapidly to clear her vision. She probably wouldn't be this way, she knows, if she had never met him. If she'd never been assigned to his case, if she'd refused to let his charm in, if she'd stopped herself from caring, from kissing, from falling in love… so deeply in love in so short a time.

I have this… constant ache that won't go away, no matter what I do… and I think it's from losing you, so quickly after I found you. You left me behind! And sometimes… sometimes I can't help but feeling that… that if I…

Her voice breaks and she can hardly speak because of the motion clogging up her throat. Blinking doesn't stop several tears from spilling over onto her flushed cheeks.

That if I had never seen your face, it wouldn't hurt so bad.

She wipes her eyes with the back of hand. Once she regains control of herself, she manages a small, watery smile.

But then I think… that I am so lucky to have had the chance to love someone this much. This love I have for you is a love of epic, storybook proportions. We just ended up more like Romeo and Juliet than Cinderella and Prince Charming.

She becomes quiet for a few moments as she continues plucking at the grass. Eventually she starts talking again, her voice less wobbly than before.

Meredith says it's really weird that I talk to you. Christina thinks I should just move on.

She looks out across at the other stones scattered across the sunny, well-kept cemetery and at the other people walking to or from those stones. One couple quickly avert their eyes when she glances their way. She can't help but chuckle a bit.

You ought to see the way people look at me when they see me sitting here talking to this stone. They must think I'm completely nuts or something. I don't really care. They can think what they want.

Again she looks out over the expanse of stones, the green grass, the little bouquets and handfuls of flowers in varying states of decay on the various graves. For a couple of minutes, she simply stares, lost in a deep ocean of vivid memories. Finally she comes back to the present with a deeply sad smile, her thoughts circling back.

Probably wouldn't be this way…

She whispers as she traces the name carved on the headstone before her. Her vision becomes blurred once again until she can longer read the words on the stone which she can't seem to remove her hand from.

I thought you'd always be there. I fell in love with you even though everyone told me not to, that it was stupid, that you wouldn't last, that you were dying and I was only going to get hurt. I fell anyways and I didn't bother trying to stop myself. And then I thought it would be ok, it would work out. I thought you'd get a heart and get better… a-and we'd get married, have kids… I thought you'd always be there, Denny. I never pictured every minute… every minute without you here anymore. You left… so fast.

She places her hand gently in her lap and uses the other to wipe the wetness from her eyes again. She manages a small, quiet laugh.

You know, I probably shouldn't tell you this because I'm sure you would just laugh at me. But sometimes, when I pass the room where you… where you used to stay, I think I see you there. Not in the bed, I mean, but standing to just one side – which that in itself is silly because I practically never saw you standing or in normal clothes. But you're always smiling, that… infuriating and perfectly charming smile. And I always do a double take… and of course you're there and then I think I really might be going insane.

She laughs a little again very softly and thinks of the times at night when she imagines a loving hand on her shoulder. She wonders silently if she's dreaming when that happens or if that really is him, an angel, watching over her and simply letting her know he's there. She always opens her eyes, somehow hoping to see him there and of course she never does. Yet the gentle feeling on her shoulder remains. Maybe she is going insane after all.

So… I guess that's it for today. I… I'll talk to you soon. I miss you. A lot. And I'll try and get out of the date with the preacher's crazy son.

She smiles but her eyes are full of fresh tears. She still doesn't want to go out with the preacher's son but darkly muses that if he really is insane, they could make a decent match because she's going crazy too. After all, she does come once a week or so to talk to her dead fiancé's gravestone.

She touches the cool stone once more as she rises to leave, wishing as always that this, his death, had never happened. For if it had never happened, she probably wouldn't be this way.

-end-

A/n: Ok, so I think the idea of Izzie visiting Denny's grave about once a week is not geographically possible given her job and I think Denny was buried quite far from Seattle, so a bit of fudging there. Thanks for reading! Reviews are like oxygen.