Broken Glass

Chapter one - Can't Stop Cryin

What makes a good friend? Someone who is there to ask what's wrong and actually hears the reply?Someone who can comfort you with just a look?What makesa good friend isnot what they do, not what they say, because as Hugh Elliot said, all anyone wants is someone to listen.

Meredith couldn't focus. Not only were her eyes crossing and uncrossing at inconvenient times during the day, but her thoughts wandered like a child's. The voices in the hospital would fade into the background, and she'd be caught up in a memory or a fantasy, until one of the other interns gently pinched, poked, and/or prodded her, or Bailey unceremoniously barked at her.

She couldn't count how many times she'd said, "I'm sorry," during the day or, "Excuse me," when she bumped into someone. Meredith was in a haze all day. Nothing could keep her attention, nothing could take her out of the bubble of pain, solitude and self pity she encased herself in. It was in the last few hours of her shift that she couldn't take it anymore.

A woman had come in after attempting suicide. Her wrists were slashed, and she'd taken a whole bottle of painkillers. The woman had regained consciousness when Meredith was binding her wrists, and begged the intern not to treat her. When Meredith asked what could be so bad, the woman just replied, "You wouldn't understand."

"I wouldn't understand? You don't think I understand pain, fear, rejection? You don't think that the man I love ripping my heart out because he's been married all this time qualifies as something to be suicidal about? You don't think my mother hating me half the time and not remembering who the hell I am the other half qualifies as something to be sad about?" Meredith screamed until tears spilled over her cheeks. Luckily, George was passing by and grabbed her by the wrist roughly, jerking her out into the hallway.

"Mer, what the hell are you doing?" He chastised in a low whisper, clenching his teeth.

Meredith's chest heaved, and she just looked at him before storming down to the locker room. Her feet moved as if she was watching her body from somewhere else. She felt disconnected from herself, from everything and everyone else.

Slamming her back heavily against the lockers, Meredith squeezed her eyes shut and tried rubbing the weariness from her eyes. How could she let him get to her like this? Why was he screwing with her mind? God, he had already let go of her, he was back with Addison, but he still lingered in her thoughts every second of every goddamn miserable hour.

She felt George gently remove her hands from her face and look at her.

"You sure told her."

Meredith chanced a scoff and sat on the bench. George sat facing her with a leg on either side.

"I want so bad to let go, but I just can't." She looked to him miserably, and he took one of her hands from her lap and kissed it, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles absently. All he wanted was to tell her that she was better off without him, he wasn't good enough for her, but he knew she wouldn't accept that.

"I know you think it's impossible, but you'll feel better. I don't know when, but I promise you Mer, it'll get better."

She just shook her head, biting her lip to stop her chin from trembling. But it was no use, her chin sunk to her chest, and her shoulders shook with sobs. George scooted closer to her and encased her in his arms. She leaned her forehead onto his shoulder, her face still buried in her hands.

"O'Malley, you're not through yet, get back up there." Bailey's voice cut through the companionship in the room.

"Sorry Mer, I gotta go." George whispered apologetically, and then his warmth was gone from her. Meredith quickly tried wiping her tears before standing to face Bailey.

"Look Grey, I know he ripped your bloody, still beating heart from your chest and threw it in the toilet, but you gotta be professional here. This is a place of work, and you have a job to do. You're on files for the rest of the week. Focus on that."

Bailey left, and Meredith sunk onto the bench again. Great. Files. Why did I have to go off on a damn attempted suicide, anyway? Meredith leaned forward to bang her head on the locker.

She moved slowly up her front steps, turned the doorknob and walked inside. She turned around to gently close the door behind her. Meredith could hear Izzie in the kitchen, cooking something, and the television was on in the living room. George was probably in there, so Meredith shrugged off her coat, leaving it on the floor and with heavy footsteps she traveled to the living room.

Sure enough, George was trying to stay awake watching a surgeon perform an appendectomy. He snapped his gaze to her when she sunk down beside him.

"How was filing?" He asked, fully awake now.

"Sucked." She lolled her head around to look at him. "How's the appendectomy?"

"Good. The guy's 54 and was on top of a 19 year old prostitute when he started seizing."

Meredith nodded, "Gross."

George agreed, and silence followed, until Meredith lay down on the couch, setting her head on his lap. He was stunned for a moment, but George just swallowed hard, and smoothed her hair away from her neck, continuing to run his fingers through it until she fell asleep.

Luckily, Meredith got Izzie to cover her shift for her the next morning. Her friend was sympathetic enough to understand that there was no way Meredith could focus on anything but crying and self pity. And as much as she wanted to help, there was nothing she could do but give her time to heal.

Meredith was absently sipping a cup of coffee and standing by the front door looking out at the snow when George trampled down the stairs. He stopped short when he saw her. She wore sweatpants and a big sweatshirt that was probably his at one time.

"Meredith?" He asked warily, and she turned to him. He was wearing a Grey SeaHawks tee shirt that looked like it was ten years old, and plaid PJ pants. "What are you doing, I thought you had to work today?"

"Izzie's covering for me. I'd much rather," she walked over to him, "hang around and feel sorry for myself." She took another sip of her coffee as she headed toward the living room. George followed and watched her for a second after she flopped on the couch.

"No. Uh-uh."

"No what?" Meredith looked up at him in surprise.

"You're not sitting around all day thinking about him. We're going to go do something."

"What are we going to do, George?" She asked sarcastically.

He narrowed his eyes as he thought, then stated matter of factly, "We're going ice skating."

Meredith scoffed as he left the room. "George!" She set her coffee cup on the table and went after him. He was pouring himself a mug in the kitchen. "I don't want to go ice skating." She stated.

"Too bad." He fired back with a smile and fixed himself a bowl of cereal. Meredith sat across from him with her knees pulled up to her chest. It was quiet in the house, except for the crunching of George's cereal, and he longed for something to say, but as was his unsavory custom, when something needed to be said to Meredith, George was plum out of ideas.

"Thanks for saving me yesterday." She said. "Things could've gotten ugly with that attempted suicide if you hadn't stopped me."

"You might've killed her."

Meredith smiled at him, and George looked back down to his cereal.

George was dressed and ready and in search of Meredith an hour later. He found her asleep on the couch. She must not have slept well last night. Maybe they wouldn't go ice skating today. He pulled a throw blanket over her and went up to his room to read.

First Grey's Anatomy fic...I just love George and Meredith...well, okay, so I just love George. I'm a sucker for the dorky guys. Anyway, probably just one more chapter. Please review!

-Aleks