Chapter One
Rating: Implied Alex/George and a few naughty words.
Word Count: 3191
Summary: My take on the ferry crash, Alex and George are in the morgue taking photos…the rest is completely AU.
Disclaimer: They're not mine…
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'You could have told me this is what you meant.'
George swallowed hastily a few times before zipping the next body bag open. The magnitude of what had happened was slowly starting to sink in and he was finding it increasingly difficult to remain focused and detached. Hell, who was he kidding? Here he was, a trained surgeon, sifting through body bags in the morgue looking for a missing boy…he was so far on the wrong side of focused and detached that he couldn't even see the line anymore.
He looked across at Alex who was re-zipping a matching body bag after having photographed the middle aged male encased in it. Some of the injuries were horrific, the burns, the traumatic amputations…he was beginning to wonder whether the sights he had seen would be with him forever. It was times like these he wished he could be more like Alex, there wasn't a lot of those times, but this was definitely one of them. Alex was the epitome of focused and detached, nothing ever seemed to phase him and even though George was gradually starting to find out all sorts of things about Alex that he never would have imagined, that he could remain focused and detached was something George relied on, it was a grounding for his own wayward emotions and tendency to panic and over react. George liked to think they were a perfect example of opposites attracting, they complemented each other perfectly and while their relationship wasn't exactly common knowledge, George was comfortable with it, it was a perfect fit both physically when Alex curled up with his head on George's chest and emotionally, when Alex lost a patient and George knew all he needed for comfort was a reassuring smile and a beer.
George was snapped from his reverie when Alex crouched suddenly and snapped the Polaroid camera in the direction of George's ass.
'Alex…geez…we're in, Alex. God, I can't believe you just did that, we're in the morgue Alex, with the recently dead, the recently traumatically dead, don't you think…'
'Exactly, they're dead, I think they're beyond caring about the inappropriate.'
'But…that's not, it's not…I give up…you have no idea do you, this…this whole thing…' George gesticulated wildly around him, flailing arms pointing to the myriad of body bags, '…does it even effect you?'
'George…fine…you're right…totally inappropriate…no more ass photos…' Alex smirked as he flashed the camera in George's face, clicking the button once to capture the look of startled surprise.
'Alex…seriously? Did you just…did you…just keep taking your photos…photos of them…not me and I will keep looking for the boy and then we can get the hell out of here…'
George bent to zip open the next in the seemingly endless procession of body bags when he was stopped in his tracks by a guttural, almost inhuman sound behind him. He spun quickly, unprepared for the sight of Alex struggling to pull an open body bag out from its place on the racking.
'Alex? What the hell are you…Alex?'
George couldn't even contemplate what happened next, couldn't comprehend, couldn't breathe. As the body, still firmly ensconced in the black body bag, hit the floor with dull thud and a rustle of thick plastic George could see the blonde hair, the translucent skin, and as the plastic slid away amid Alex's frantic movements, the small bulge of her pregnant belly. George stood, transfixed, statuesque, rigid, the only sounds he could hear Alex's harsh, ragged breathing and unconscious, panic filled verbalisations.
'George, help me…get her out…' Alex was fighting with the plastic, wrestling almost, to free the girl, his confused movements only succeeding in tangling the girls long hair in the thick plastic zip and as Alex frantically pulled at the bag, freeing her finally, George felt bile rise in the back of his throat when a small chunk of blonde strands pulled free to remain trapped in the zip mechanism.
George's vision blurred, blue pulsating lines that were making it impossible to concentrate, to fathom, to process as Alex reached violently trembling fingers to the lifeless forms neck, appearing to feel for a pulse.
'Oh no…no…God…she's not…Alex? Is she…?'
Another gut wrenching moan escaped Alex's white, bloodless lips as he leaned forward to cover her mouth with his own, breathing forcefully, desperately, manically for her. Her left hand was almost touching George's feet and he bent suddenly to grab it, to see, to feel for himself. The hand was cold, too cold and too rigid for there to be life, hope, a flicker of a chance.
'Alex, it's okay, she's not…I'm pretty sure…no…I'm positive…'
George looked up from the pale fingers, and the dainty diamond adorning her ring finger to find Alex's eyes, to reassure him only to find them raging with something George had never seen before, definitely not in Alex and maybe not ever. He was performing CPR, calculated and practised and medically accurate, pausing every five compressions to breath deeply into the girl's mouth. The precision of his actions a complete contrast to the manic, flashing in his eyes and the almost seizure like shaking that was wracking his shoulders.
George leaned forward to clamp his hand around Alex's arm.
'Alex? You don't need to…Alex, it's too late, it's okay.'
'No…get off me…'
Alex spun roughly and planted his hands flat on George's chest, shoving him forcefully back into the wall behind them. The back of George's head collected solidly with the plaster, the flash of pain and the dark, bloody handprints transferred from the body to Alex to him, only adding to his rapidly escalating confusion. By the time he had reacted, had reached a hand to the back of his head to rub at the already forming lump, to even begin to form a verbal response, Alex had resumed his position on the floor, resumed the breathing, resumed the desperate compressions.
'Alex…what the hell?'
Whether Alex was ignoring him or, even more shockingly, was simply unable to articulate a response George couldn't figure out but he knew something was wrong…something way beyond crashed ferry boats and mass casualties was wrong with Alex.
Steeling himself with a deep breath, George forced himself to turn from Alex's hunched figure and flee for the door, he needed to find someone, anyone, to deal with this, to deal with Alex because this, this was so far beyond George's comprehension he felt like it wasn't even Alex in the room with him anymore, just some disturbing parody that looked like Alex but wasn't…Alex.
He heard the door close with an airy woosh behind him as he sprinted up the stairs and lurched wildly around the corner, overshooting comically and colliding with the wall opposite. He could see Mark Sloan in the distance, intently examining x-rays on a light board as he tripped over his own foot and crashed heavily to the corridor floor. Not even bothering to stand, simply drawing himself up against the wall in a semi-foetal position George looked up at Mark, imploring him silently to help, to fix.
'Dr. O'Malley? Something I can do for…'
'Dr. Sloan, you need to come…I don't know what happened…he's…it's…he's…'
'O'Malley, seriously?'
George was only too aware that Mark was staring at him like he had lost his mind…maybe he had, maybe they all had.
'It's Alex…I think…shit…I don't know…you just need to come with me.'
George was distracted suddenly as Mark's bemused gaze left him and darted further down the corridor.
'What the..?'
George, still slumped against the wall, spun to follow Mark's gaze, his breath catching in his throat as he contemplated the possibilities.
Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.
Alex was staggering down the corridor towards them, struggling desperately under the weight, the dead weight he was carrying. Blood had stained the knees of his scrub pants and was smeared down his thighs, obviously from when he had wrestled the body desperately from the bag. More shocking than this however was the dry, smeared blood on his face, transferred while Alex was performing CPR on the cold morgue floor. One of the girl's arms was dangling loosely by Alex's knees, the angle indicating her shoulder was more than just dislocated. Her clothes were torn and blood stained and George could see her blonde hair was longer than he had first been able to tell.
Mark had already started jogging in Alex's direction but George couldn't bring himself to move. He watched the vision before him play out like a silent movie, any sound that might have carried to him drowned out by the rushing of blood and breath in his head.
Alex slumped to the floor cradling the girl carefully as he placed her flat and resumed the distraught CPR he had been performing in the morgue.
'Get Dr. Montgomery…we need…Addison, get Addison…Addison…'
The deranged voice was enough to break through the fog clouding George's brain and he staggered slowly to his feet and took a step forward. Mark had reached Alex by now, had kneeled to the cool tile beside him and had pressed two fingers to the girl's neck to see for himself.
'Karev, what on Earth do you think you are doing?'
'No, no, no…' Alex was muttering manically to himself under his breath, '…we need Addison…we need..'
'Dr. Karev, Dr. Montgomery won't be able to do anything…'
'Yes, Dr. Montgomery, Addison…ADDISON…'
Alex was screaming now, at the top of his voice, almost into the girl's face as he continued the CPR.
'Alex?' George whispered softly, coming up to stand in front of him, 'Alex, please stop it, it's too late, you're freaking everyone out.'
'Too late, too late, too late…'
Alex adjusted his mumbled mantra to echo George's words, stopping only to breath deeply into the girl's mouth.
'Karev, Jesus, would you just…'
Mark turned to clamp his hands tightly onto Alex's upper arms, to force him to listen, to understand, to stop and before George had even formed the words to warn Mark that touching him probably wasn't a good idea Mark was sprawled flat on his back on the corridor floor.
'O'Malley, what the fuck is going on?'
A small crowd was beginning to gather, staring fixedly at either a blood stained Alex still performing CPR on the quite obviously very deceased pregnant girl or like Mark, at George waiting for an explanation.
'Uh…I don't…we…we were in the morgue, taking photos…for identification…but, I don't…he just…'
George's tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth making it even harder for him than it already usually was to piece together a coherent sentence.
'Get Dr. Bailey here now, anybody seen here? Page her, yell, scream, I don't care, just get her here now…and security, get security.'
'No, no, no, not Dr. Bailey…Addison….ADDISON…'
'Karev…O'Malley, get me something, anything, diazepam…ten milligrams.'
George's blood froze in his veins and the thought of Mark sedating Alex, of helping to sedate Alex himself made his gut clench reflexively.
'No, no…we can't…it'll be okay…Alex, please…'
'Does it look like it's okay, O'Malley? Get the damn injection…'
George staggered backwards desperately, trying to balance out the consequences of directly disobeying an order from a superior compared to …well, compared to what the alternative meant. A familiar, strong, welcome voice boomed from the corner breaking George's thought processes and he turned instinctively in the direction of the sound.
'Dr. Bailey…thank God, I don't…he's not…'
'Miranda?' Mark curled one finger in her direction, directing her to the side so he could talk to her quickly and quietly away from the gathered throng. Despite the fact that they were no more than five metres from where George stood, as soon as Mark disappeared from his field of vision George felt completely alone in an alternate universe that contained only him and a dead, pregnant girl and a manic caricature of someone who looked like his boyfriend.
All noise and movement evaporated while the hospital walls and fluorescent lighting ceased to exist and all George could do was stand and stare at the slow motion vision playing out in front of him. Alex had run his hands through his hair at some stage, probably in the same way George liked to do when they sat entwined in each other on the couch or in bed, only when George did it he didn't leave behind dirty streaks of blood that caused small tufts of hair to cling together and stick up at acute angles from his head.
George only breathed again when Dr. Bailey re-entered the scene and knelt facing Alex on the opposite side of the body.
'Where's Addison?' Alex gasped, his voice hitched and breaking as George guessed he was dangerously close to hyperventilating.
'She's not here, Alex,' Miranda calmly replied, her calm, even tone a stark contrast to George's panic and Alex's desperation.
'Alex,' she continued in the same tone, 'you've done everything you can Alex, but it's too late, she didn't make it…'
Alex moaned softly, sadly, a deep guttural sound that instantly engrained itself in George's memory and played like backing music to his disjointed thoughts.
'Alex?' Dr. Bailey leaned forward slowly and as Alex looked up at her through tear filled, unfocused, sea blue eyes, she raised her hands and placed them on either side of his blood smeared face, angling his chin so she filled his field of vision, so he could see nothing but her face and hear nothing but her words.
'Alex, what's her name?'
A strangled sob escaped from between Alex's white lips as George's brain struggled to catch up, to comprehend that Alex might actually know this girl.
'Jessica…Jessie…Jessie…little Jessie…' Alex whispered in reply, running his hand down the side of her face.
'Okay Alex, Dr. Sloan is going to organise to take Jessica back to the morgue, someone will clean her up and you can go and see her again later…okay?
'Jessie…Jessie' Alex continued to whisper, 'I'm sorry…so sorry…so sorry…'
'Alex, it's okay…Dr. Sloan is going to look after her and George,' Miranda turned her head slowly to lock her eyes on his, 'George is going to take what Dr. Sloan has in his hand and then he's going to get an oxygen mask for you and then we are going to clean you up and everyone else,' she turned again to stare at the gathered crowd, 'is going to leave, now…right…now…and they are going to find something to do that will keep them occupied for a very…long…time, is that okay Alex? Alex, look at me. Okay?'
Alex nodded almost imperceptibly, seeming to regain some focus and sense of himself from Dr. Bailey's calm, reassuring words so George turned to Dr. Sloan and took the proffered syringe he had obviously obtained while Dr. Bailey was talking to Alex. He then stepped into the closest room and grabbed an oxygen mask from a cupboard before returning and handing both items to Dr. Bailey who had managed to get Alex sitting back against the corridor wall. She pressed the mask over his nose and mouth and urged Alex to relax and to breathe slowly, her calming words making George feel redundant and at a complete loss.
'O'Malley,' Dr. Bailey indicated for him to come closer.
'Okay Alex, George and I are going to take you to get cleaned up.'
Taking a side each they managed to haul an exhausted Alex to his feet and steer him in the direction of the closest bathroom.
George realised their mistake at the same time as Dr. Bailey and both of them realised it an instant too late to change it. The bathroom was full of mirrors and while George had had some time to adjust to the sight of Alex's blood smeared face, Alex was seeing it for the first time. He froze in front of the mirror, not blinking or moving or breathing, his breath caught completely inside of him, the oxygen mask no longer fogging up with calming regularity. He reached one violently trembling hand up and pulled the mask away, revealing the full extent of the mess and then moved to finger the blood decorating his right cheek, running his fingers slowly down the side of his own face.
'No, no, no…'
George hurried to wet some paper towels as Dr. Bailey moved to pull Alex's hand away.
'It's okay, Alex. We'll have you cleaned up in no…'
'I feel sick…' Alex whispered, his skin, under the blood smears, turning a deathly white as Dr. Bailey ushered him into the nearest cubicle where George could hear him retching and gasping into the bowl. George peered around the corned and into the cubicle, finding Alex curled into Dr. Bailey's arms crying silently and couldn't help but feel he had failed Alex completely today, as his workmate, as his friend but most of all as his partner. He handed Dr. Bailey a wad of dampened towels so she could begin to clean some of the blood smears from Alex's face but the motion caused Alex to jerk upright and lurch towards the mirrors, clawing desperately at his face with his fingernails.
'Get it off…please…get it off…'
'Alex, stop it, we'll get it off just…'
'Get it off…get it off…'
Alex was dragging his fingernails over his cheeks, streaking the blood smears and creating deep, red welts as George saw Dr. Bailey reach into her pocket and pull out the syringe Dr. Sloan had organised only minutes earlier. His vision blurred momentarily, the first indication that tears were forming in his own eyes, as he reached forward and grabbed hold of Alex's hands while Dr. Bailey removed the cap from the syringe and depressed the insert, releasing the sedative into Alex blood stream. It took only a few moments for Alex to visibly sag, his knees giving way as George helped to ease him to the floor, wrapping his arms around him protectively and rocking him slowly as his eyes closed and his breathing evened out. It was only when Dr. Bailey returned with a nurse and Izzie and a gurney that George even realised she had left.
Dr. Bailey pressed the oxygen mask back over Alex's face before indicating for George to help them get him onto the gurney. George reluctantly loosened his grasp and together they settled Alex on the mattress and wheeled him into a curtained cubicle where Izzie re-appeared with a bowl of warm water and some washcloths. Dr. Bailey and the nurse left them there and silently, for there was no need for words, George and Izzie began to wash the blood from Alex's hands and face. She returned about half an hour later with the Chief at her side, Alex was still sleeping and would be for some time yet but at least the blood was mostly gone, revealing the extent of the damage Alex's nails had caused. George and Izzie had still not spoken but Izzie was the first to break the silence.
'Do you know who she was?'
The Chief looked to Dr. Bailey, who nodded silently at him.
'She was twenty one year old, Jessica Elizabeth Karev, she was Alex's little sister and she was six months pregnant.'
TBC