A/N: This fanfic was widely requested on Tumblr (originally by olafurneal) after Tony Denison posted a photo of himself dressed as a doctor on Twitter. We all love Dr. Virginia Dixon and as I stated on my Tumblr a few times over the last couple of weeks, it's very hard writing for her, because her role in GA was so small and because as a neurotypical person, I don't really understand the way aspies view the world.

Still, after olafurneal's idea, I decided to give it a chance and see if I can dive into the world and soul of a person with Asperger's Syndrome. I had to do some research and it was also helpful that I have two close friends who are aspies and I based some of Dixon's inner thoughts about love and relationships on conversations that I had with those two friends.

Also, I hope that my representation of aspies is accurate and if not, I sincerely apologize.

Anyway, this must be the longest author's note I've ever written in my life! I hope you enjoy the story.

"People are strange when you're a stranger,

Faces look ugly when you're alone…"

People Are Strange, The Doors

The corner was her favorite place to sit in the cafeteria. She always chose to sit at the most secluded table and after a couple of months at Cedars-Sinai, no one ever tried to try sitting next to her, which was pleasing and disappointing at the same time. They didn't understand her, and after a lifetime of being misunderstood, it still surprised her that no one could get into her head. Of course, she knew that she had issues and sometimes people were intimidated by her, but doctors knew all about Asperger's and somehow they never tried to understand or even try to relate to her. Being alone in her corner as she ate the lunch she meticulously packed for herself every evening before turning in was the only time a day she allowed herself to dwell in self-pity at her misfortune of being so emotionally complicated.

A sudden movement by her side made her raise her gaze from her pasta salad. She looked at the person who took a seat at her table and greeted her with a warm 'Hi'.

"Hello, Dr. Flynn," she said, trying to hide her displeasure at the person who invaded her space. He smiled at her brightly.

"Mind if I join you for lunch?" he asked. She shrugged. What else was she supposed to say? He placed a small paper bag on the table and pulled out a sandwich and an apple. "So, uh, yesterday after the operation we did on Mrs. Thomas, I looked for you, but couldn't find you." She shrugged again. Her mother had always taught her that sometimes it was better to not say anything when you didn't know what to say. "I wanted to tell you that it was a pleasure to work with you."

"Thank you," she responded and pushed away her food. Suddenly she didn't feel so hungry anymore.

"I've never seen any doctor so focused on saving a life before. It's nice to finally find someone who cares about the patients," Dr. Flynn continued. "And I hope we get to work together again. I've heard you're very talented and that you're new in LA."

"I moved here two months ago," she said shortly.

"So I've heard. So how do you like the city?" he asked.

"It's warm. And noisy," she answered. "And there's air pollution."

"Yes, that's true," he grinned.

"Air pollution kills millions of people around the world every year, causes lung cancer and lung diseases such as asthma, COPD and pneumonia," she said, her voice monotonous.

"Actually, COPD is a disease specific to smokers," Dr. Flynn replied. "I've heard of very few instances where non-smokers were affected by the disease."

"Los Angeles has enough air pollution to make a newborn a smoker," she replied.

"So, you're not a big fan of the city," Dr. Flynn let out a hearty laugh. "Are you at least happy here, at Cedars?"

"Cedars-Sinai's Cardiology department is rated in the 9th place in the entire country," she replied.

"That's true. It's one of the best cardio departments in The United States. But how do you like it here?"

"The facilities are of high quality, the doctors are professional, I think I like it here," she responded.

"I feel the same as you do," Dr. Flynn said and his words made her look at him for a slight second before she turned her gaze away. She must have misheard him, she thought. No one knew how she felt. No one could understand. Most people in her life never even bothered to try. "So tell me a little about yourself." Tell him what? She wondered. No one ever asked her that.

"Uh… I'm…" Stop stuttering, Virginia! She heard her mother's angry voice in her head. She used to stutter as a young child and it seemed to get everyone around her mad at her. She had to endure a year of speech therapy in order to learn how to talk like a normal person.

"Where are you from, originally?" Dr. Flynn must have sensed her discomfort and gave her a direction.

"Chicago, Illinois," she shot in response.

"I'm from New York City, originally. But I moved out here for med school and stayed," he said. "I met my wife here and we had kids. She was a doctor too, actually, a dentist." Virginia hummed in response. "How about you? Are you married?"

"No," she said. She's heard of people with Asperger's getting married and living a happy, fulfilling life with their significant others, but with her record in relationships, the only thing she was married to was her job.

"Me neither," he sighed and Virginia was not sure if the look in his eyes was pensive or sad. Whatever it was, by his words she assumed he was no longer married to the dentist.

"Any children?" he wondered. She shook her head. Her mother always said that it may be best if she never has any children and Virginia convinced herself that if she did, she would be a terrible mother. She would not be able to understand her own child and the child would never be able to understand her. Maybe the child would be ashamed of her, of how odd she was. They would not bring their friends over, or worse, they would laugh at her with their friends, just like her two sisters did when they were growing up. "I have two kids. My oldest is married, has two adorable children. The youngest is away at school." She curved her lips upward in a smile, her lips tight against each other. They heard a beeping sound and both of them pulled their pagers in unison and looked at them.

"I have to go," she said, picking up her lunch and throwing it into the trash can on her way out of the cafeteria, not realizing that he was following her, to the same event that she was called to attend.

Sitting in her car, she stared at her hands and tried to make them stop shaking. Losing patients on the operating table always affected her deeply. She knew she did her best, but the heart was too damaged to repair and there was simply nothing she could have done to save the patient. Having a heart dying under her hands upset her more than she could find the words to describe and she could feel the lump in her throat threatening to choke her. She didn't want to cry, but she could already feel the tears stinging in her eyes, blurring her vision. She knew for sure that she couldn't drive now. A knock on the window on the driver side startled her. Turning to the window she saw Dr. Flynn again. She rolled down the window.

"Dr. Dixon," he said, his voice soft. "My car died and I wondered if you could give me a ride home, if that's okay with you." She really needed to be alone right now, but at the same time, she really needed someone to hold her and help her relax her sympathetic nerve system so that she could finally drive herself home. But then again, she didn't know him, not really. And she couldn't ask him to hug her; that would be weird and he was the only person in this entire hospital that was actually nice to her. "Hey, are your hand shaking?" he asked as he reached out for one of her hands through the window. She drew her bottom lip into her mouth, trying to control her reactions. She couldn't do this right now. "Why don't you let me drive?" It wasn't a bad idea, she thought. She couldn't drive and he needed a ride and he knew LA better anyway. He would probably know a way to avoid getting stuck in traffic. Opening the door, she went out of the car and went around it, taking the passenger seat. He was already sitting in the driver seat when she closed the door. He turned on the ignition and drove out of the parking lot. "It's tough when you lose a patient," he said, his eyes focused on the road. She hummed. "I get emotional about it too." She was staring out of the window. "And sometimes, when I worked really hard to save a person, but couldn't, I cry." She hated him at that moment, and liked him at the same time. How could he be so painfully relatable? Why did he have to say things like that to her? "So, um, you know what's really weird?" he asked. "I don't know your first name." Her first name? Nobody, except her family, ever called her by her first name.

"Uhh… My name is Vi..." She stuttered again. What was it about him that made her regress to her infancy habits? "Vi…"

"You're name is Vivi? Is it a short for Viviane?" he asked. She shook her head. She hated telling people her name, especially men. The memory of her youth nickname, given to her by a bunch of kids from her school was anything but embarrassing. It made her hate her name with passion. She could still hear their calls ringing in her ears – "Virginia the virgin! Vir-gin-ia, the vir-gin!" She closed her eyes and let her tears flow down her face. This day was too much for her.

"Hey, are you okay?" she felt his hand on her shoulder. She nodded and then shook her head, her eyes still closed.

"My name is Virginia," she said quietly and opened the glove compartment, pulling a box of Kleenex and using it to wipe her wet face.

"It's a beautiful name," he said and she made a face. "You don't like it, huh?"

"Not really," she responded.

"So, you prefer it if people call you Vivi?" he asked. She shook her head. Vivi wasn't high on her favorite name list either, although she had to admit it was better than Virginia. "How about Ginny?" No one ever gave her a real, not derogatory nickname. Ginny – the name was close enough to her own name; she could imagine herself as someone named Ginny. She nodded slowly.

"Ginny is good, thank you," she said.

"I'm glad you like it," he said. He drove in silence for a while and she was glad that he hadn't tried to talk to her. She needed the quiet moment to compose herself. "Hey, Ginny," he said her name softly after a while. She turned her head and tried to look at him for a longer moment than she was used to. "Wanna know what I do when I have a tough day?" he asked. She nodded slowly and diverted her eyes again. He turned to look back at the road. "Okay," he said and kept on driving. He took a turn left and the streets started becoming unfamiliar to her. She felt her insides coiling with uneasiness. Where were they going? She felt her breath becoming heavier, her hands started trembling again. He suddenly placed his hand on her shoulder again and she felt the air getting caught in her lungs and her pulse rushing in her veins. "Ginny, relax. I'm not some psycho. I'm not gonna hurt you or anything. I'm just going to show you a nice place I go to when my work upsets me," he said. "Don't be scared." She let out a long exhale and looked at him again and then took a deep breath. Breathing exercises helped her when she wasn't able to have pressure applied to her body. By the time Dr. Flynn parked the car, she was already calm. "We're here," he said and went out of the car and she followed him. She looked around her. They were at the beach. "Welcome to the Will Rogers State Beach!" he declared and started walking towards the water. She followed him, a bit reluctantly. It's been years since she went to the beach. Once, in college, a guy she liked took her to a beach party. It was too crowded, too noisy and she quickly found that her sensory system was overloaded. But at this time of day, the Will Rogers State Beach was nearly empty and that made the tension in her body decrease. She caught up with Dr. Flynn as he stopped and stared at the waves. "Sometimes, when I have a particularly horrible day, I come here after work, no matter the time, and I take a walk along the shoreline. The breeze and the sound of the waves help me relax," he said. "Let's head this way." He motioned to a part of the beach that seemed more secluded and started walking there. He was right. She liked the silence and the feeling of the wind caressing her face. The sound of the waves crushing into each other had a calming effect and she soon felt herself relaxing. "So… do you often have these panic attacks?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Some days are better than others," she simply replied.

"You seem so calm in the OR," Dr. Flynn said.

"It feels like home there. I love my job. The human heart fascinates me. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she replied.

"Funny, I sometimes feel the same way too, you know?" Dr. Flynn said. "Especially after…" he let the wind carry away the rest of the sentence. "There was a time I used to have panic attacks regularly. It feels like you can't breathe and your anxiety just engulfs you and devours you." Virginia hummed softly. She could definitely identify with what he described. Or was he trying to identify with her? Trying to make her feel like he understood her? No one has ever tried to do this much for her. "Can I ask you a personal question?" She gave him a quick nod. "Why are you so quiet?"

"That's a strange question," she said.

"I'm asking, because you don't look happy," he said. It was true, she thought. She probably never looked happy to anyone. It was hard for her to express her feelings. Her mother always told her to smile when she wanted to be nice to someone, and not look so sad and serious. Sometimes she forgot. But no one had ever asked her why she never looked happy.

"I'm happy when I'm in the OR," she said.

"And when you're outside?" Why did he have to ask her all those difficult questions?

"I like it here," she said. "It's very relaxing." She hoped he wouldn't ask her if it made her happy. She really didn't know.

"Look, Ginny, I know a great therapist who can help you with the anxiety, if you want. I get it, anxiety is paralyzing, and it can really restrict you. It can lead to depression and suicidal thoughts. This is not something that you should…"

"No," she said simply and walked a little faster.

"No? What do you mean, no?" he chased her.

"I don't suffer from anxiety," she said, her voice conveying the anger that she now felt. That was a feeling she knew very well how to express. "I have Asperger Syndrome." Her words made him stop in his tracks.

"You're autistic?" he asked in disbelief.

"Born this way, a therapy would never work," she replied.

"Hey, hey!" he ran until her caught up with her and then stopped in front of her. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were autistic." She shrugged. There went her chance at friendship with anyone in LA. Most of the people never really cared about her anymore once they heard that she had Asperger's. Once they knew, all they could see in her was her inability to function in social settings. She was strange and they became strangers. "I never meant to insult you, Ginny. I was just trying to help." She hummed, as she always did when she had nothing to say, or too much to say. "I've never met anyone with Asperger Syndrome before." She looked at something behind his shoulder, unable to focus her gaze on him. "You're different than I thought a person with Asperger's would be. You seem… normal, for a lack of a better word."

"I don't know how to behave," she said. "When people talk to me, I don't know what the right way to answer is. I don't feel things like normal people. I snap when things get too much." It was the first time in her life that she told someone what it felt being her.

"Today was too much?"

"I get upset when I lose a patient," she replied. "I like sitting alone at lunch, because then I don't have to talk to anyone. I don't have to explain my thoughts. I like the human heart because no matter what's wrong with you or me or someone else, the heart always looks the same."

"I won't sit next to you if it bothers you, but I'd like to, if it's okay," his voice was incredibly soft when he spoke to her.

"Do you pity me?" she asked. She couldn't think of another reason this man still wanted to be her friend after knowing that she was not like everyone else.

"No, why would I? You're not sick or dying," he said. He was such a strange man, she thought. Even stranger than her. "You're just different," he smiled and this time she smiled back, because hearing someone telling her that they didn't think she was weird made her heart flutter inside her chest. She never felt this way before. "So, umm, what do I have to know about you in order to understand you?"

"I don't understand hints and I don't know to act upon them," she said.

"So I need to be direct with you," he said. She nodded in response. "Okay, but can it go both ways?" She gave him another nod. "Then I'll be honest. I like you, and I want to take you out on a date. Would you like that?" Virginia couldn't remember the last time her heart thumped so wildly in her chest.

"I don't know what to tell you," she said.

"Why?" she looked away for a moment. She felt safe with him, but at the same time, her past experiences in the area of love and romance were traumatizing, to say the least.

"I'm not mentally challenged. Men who don't know me sometimes think that they can take advantage of me, because I'm not like everyone else. I don't like it when it happens," she said.

"Did anyone ever hurt you?" he asked, and she recognized a pained expression on his face. She shook her head.

"Most of the men who asked me out thought I would be an easy catch," she said.

"You feel like it's too good to be true, don't you?" he asked. She wondered how he was able to understand her so well. "I'm not trying to manipulate you. And you don't have to go out with me if you don't want to." She closed her eyes and stood there, just listening to the waves and feeling the wind blowing in her hair. She needed to think, without overanalyzing. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes slightly.

"What will you do if it doesn't go well? If I'm too weird for your liking?" she asked.

"Whatever you decide, know that you're not as weird as you think you are, Ginny. You just a little different and there's nothing wrong with that," Dr. Flynn replied and she let out a desperate sigh that sounded a little like a whimper. She really didn't know what to do. She had a gut feeling that he may be different than all the guys she dated before. He seemed to really treat her like a human being and there was also something mysterious about him, something that made him able to recognize and identify her feelings and give them a name – something that she's always found difficult to do. She wondered what her mother would say. Her mother taught her so much about how she should behave in different life situations, even though she often offended her with her words. Virginia assumed that it was what other people called tough love. She never asked her mother about men. Her mother simply assumed that no normal man would ever look in her direction. She thought it would be better for Virginia to focus on her career; saving lives is your destiny, Virginia. Never let anything to distract you from that. That is all you gotta do, she said to her. Was her mother always right? Virginia didn't know, but her mother's advice has gotten her a great, fulfilling career. But maybe her mother had a different reason to fear? Virginia was only diagnosed with Asperger's in the early 1990's, but she was always different than her sisters. Until she was diagnosed, her mother simply assumed that she was mentally ill, or perhaps had a few loose screws. Being diagnosed with an autistic spectrum disorder made it easier for Virginia to understand herself and to explain her behavior to her family. They also seemed relieved to find a name for what was wrong with Virginia. They even became nicer to her for a while, but they never really accepted her, never trusted her around their children; sometimes they talked about her like she wasn't in the same room with them. After their mother had a cardiac arrest, they suddenly found her valuable, but when Virginia said that she could not operate on her own mother, they became angry with her, refusing to understand that she could lose her license if she operated on her mother. When her mother died, they stopped talking to her. They thought she could have saved her, but chose not to. That was the first time in her life she understood what irony was. She had never been able to grasp it beforehand. Her heart was broken at the thought that she lost her entire family the day her mother died. They probably loved her before, and she probably thought they didn't because she had trouble understanding how other people felt, but she knew now that by refusing to operate on her mother, she lost any love that her remaining family has ever felt for her. She didn't think of them often; it hurt too much, but right now, in that moment on the beach, she wished she had one of them to consult with. And maybe, just maybe, this was her answer, she realized. She had no one in the world to love her, and if all hearts beat the same way, then she was no different than anyone else. Was it so wrong for her to want to be loved by someone? Was it wrong to want someone to care about her? She lowered her gaze to the sand at her feet and then raised it back and looked into his eyes. They were a deep shade of brown, warm and soft.

"I'd love to go on a date with you," she said. "But I have one question first."

"Sure, ask anything you want," he said with a smile that accentuated the creases in the corners of his eyes.

"What's your first name?" she asked, smiling, for real this time.

"Andrew, but you can call me Andy," he replied and offered her his hand. She didn't hesitate before she took it. It was warm, but not uncomfortably so. His skin was soft and it rubbed gently against hers. She could feel his pulse against her palm and knew that his heart was beating just as strongly as hers. Being the great cardiologist that she was, she didn't need any verbal communication. This time, the palpitations in their joint hands told her that as different as they may be, they both felt the same way.

I am not sure if I will be writing another chapter or leaving it at that. This story feels both finished and unfinished at the same time and I don't know what to do. It's hard to explore the world of an aspie when you're not one and I hope I'm doing them justice. I'd love to know what you thought about this story and whether or not I should continue it, so feel free to leave a review or send me a PM.