Ventricle
He takes a seat next to her at The Emerald City Bar without a second thought. It is a night like any other night.
The hospital has taken their hearts, wrapped them in torn velvet, and forgotten to return to sender. Neither of them can remember a time when love wasn't accompanied by a dull hopelessness, by another shot of tequila.
He looks as drained as she feels.
She turns to him, smiling politely. Brightly. It is simply civility that is wrought from acquaintance. That is all it could be. All it should be.
But he can't help noticing what he has always noticed; that she is beautiful. She is gorgeous, she is stunning. She isn't Meredith.
His eyes linger for a moment too long. Her smile doesn't fade. It should seem cruel or sadistic, instead it just seems inevitable. They are the only ones left.
She is tired of false promises and he has no more left to give.
Maybe the way to finally destroy optimism is to become someone else's nightmare.
His hand grazes her arm and her head snaps back up to him.
"What are you doing?"
He stares at her point blank, eyes faded.
"I don't know."
She should leave. She shouldn't let his hand slip around her shoulders. She shouldn't let him wordlessly lead her out the door.
But they are both so very very alone. And his body is warm like she always knew it would be.
Perhaps she was never destined for good men in the first place.
No one in the entire bar says a word as Derek Sheppard and Izzie Stevens descend upon the night with a broken ferocity crafted by their insistent failures.
It is a night like any other night.