Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy, or any of the characters mentioned within the series, however badly I wished I did. So please, please don't sue, as I'm not making any profit from this whatsoever. I do, however, own this story plot, so Muahahahahahahaha! (hack)

AN: Yeah, so while I was coming up with a plot for another Grey's Anatomy fanfic I'm going to be writing, this idea just lodged itself in my head and just wouldn't leave until I wrote it down. Loosely inspired by the fanfic "Here", about George and Izzie, but the situation and everything else is different. I personally believe that George and Izzie belong together, and there aren't nearly enough George/Izzie fics, so I'm writing a couple. This is one of them. One shot. Please R&R, and let me know what you think.

She had had it all planned out. She'd written out the suicide note, in which she had made it clear that she had wanted her roommates to try and track down her daughter and give her the letter of apology when she was 18. She had put her will where she knew they'd find it. She'd scooped a large bottle of pills from the hospital during her rounds. She had bought a bottle of Vodka, as well as a pack of sleeping pills, a bottle of Nyquil, and a bottle of cleaning fluid. She'd wanted to make sure that she'd finished the job the first time, and that she didn't feel anything. Now Isobel Stevens was sitting in her room on her bed, a picture of her daughter in one hand, and a picture of Denny Duquette, the love of her life, the man who had died more than a month ago, leaving her in anguish, in another.

"Goodbye, Sarah. I love you baby." She said, kissing the picture of her daughter. Then she turned to the picture in her other hand. "I'm so sorry, Denny. If I hadn't been so fucking concerned with the way I'd looked, I might have been able to save you." Her tears dripped down her face onto the picture as she kissed it too. She blamed herself for Denny's death, because she had been so concerned about looking nice for him, that by the time she'd gotten there, it had been too late. She also felt guilty because the last time she had seen Denny, he had just proposed to her, and she had run off without giving him an answer.

She put the two pictures on the pillow beside her, and just as she was about to swallow a handful of pills, the one thing she hadn't worked into her suicide equation knocked on the door.

"Izzie, is it safe to come in? I need to talk to you." Her roommate, George O'Malley, called through the door.

"Just a minute." Izzie called back, hastily cramming the pills back into the bottle before shoving it under her pillow and jamming the Vodka, Nyquil, and Cleaning fluid into her side table drawer. "Come in."

George gently opened the door and walked in, sitting on the bed beside Izzy.

"So, George, what'd you need to talk to me about?" Asked Izzie, trying, unconvincingly, to sound cheerful.

"I just wanted to see if you're okay." He said.

"I'm fine." She said, trying to hide the fact that she'd been crying and discreetly wiping away her tears under the guise of a sneeze. "I just want you to know, George, that you've always been a really good friend to me. You've always been there when I needed you, you never said anything to offend me, you've shared your bed with me when I needed a comforting friend, and you've bought me tampons when I've needed them-" She paused, allowing herself a small smile at the sight of him blushing furiously. "-I just wanted you to know that you've been a really good friend."

"Izzie," he began, wiping the few tears she'd missed from her face, "I've been doing a lot of thinking, for a while now, and I decided that I needed to tell you this now, even though it's kinda soon. You see, Izzie, I-" He paused for a minute, trying to find the right words. "After I saw you with Alex, and after I got over Meredith, I realized that it wasn't really Meredith that I wanted. It was you. And when I saw you with Denny, saw how happy you were, I couldn't bear the thought of telling you, of making you choose, maybe even a little scared of being rejected. You see, all I've ever wanted for you was for you to be happy. I know I was kidding myself, coming here today and bearing my soul, for thinking that I might even have half a chance with you, but I wanted you to know all of this, I needed you to know exactly how I felt about you. I love you, Izz."

Izzie looked up at him from where she had been staring on her blanket. As she looked at him, he suddenly looked different, not like the shy, slightly feminine guy she'd seen before. She saw right into his soul, saw him for the man he was, a man who desperately wanted to make her happy, to shield her from her misery, her pain, who wanted to share her joy, who wanted to wake up to her face in the morning and spend every possible waking moment with her, for her face to be the last thing he saw before he went to sleep every night. For the first time, she realized that she loved him too. That she had always secretly loved him, although she had loved Denny, too. She saw Denny's death in a whole different light. She allowed herself the impossible notion that maybe Denny needed to go because George needed her, too. That maybe destiny had intervened. She decided that if Denny had truly loved her, he would have wanted her to be happy, even if he wasn't there to make her happy. As of that moment, she realized that, were she to have committed suicide, it would have done her no good, as well as hurt those around her, and devastated George. She decided that maybe she could still have a chance at living, at happiness, that maybe it was time to let go of Denny. She looked up at George again as he continued.

"Izz, if you'll let me, I'll be your rock to hold onto, the blanket that keeps you warm, your strength when you think that you can't go on anymore. I'll be your night in shining armor, your shoulder to cry on, the wings you fly with-" But before he could finish, Izzie had pulled him into a hungry, passionate kiss. She held nothing back as the kiss that had seemed as deep as a kiss could get only deepened and intensified. They finally had to pull apart, gasping for breath.

"I love you too, George, and I want you to be all of those things for me."

"Really?" Asked George incredulously.

"Yeah." Answered Izzie.

"Well, in that case," said George breathlessly, slipping off the bed and kneeling on the floor on one knee, pulling a black velvet box out of his pocket. "Isobel Stevens, will you marry me?"

"Yes." She replied, tears falling freely down her face as he slipped the ring on her finger. "But there's something you have to understand, George. Even though I want to be with you, even though I've always nursed a soft spot for you in my heart, even though I've always loved you, and never realized it before now, I'll always love Denny too."

"I understand, Izz, and I can live with that."

"Thank you, George." She said.

"For what?" He asked, looking puzzled, as he once again joined Izzie on the bed. She threw her arms around him, crying into his shoulder, breathing in the sweet mixture of his fabric softener and cologne.

"For saving me." She said, "In more ways then you'll ever know."

AN: Yeah, the idea sorta came from an e-mail that my friend sent me, and also, the whole bedroom setting was slightly inspired by the fanfic "Here", although the plot was my own. Anyways, hope you all enjoyed, please read and review. I'd really like to hear what you all think of it. And just so you know, I'm going to write an actual story, so let me know if any of you are interested. If I get even one person saying they'd definitely read a Grey's Anatomy George/Izzie fic, (a longer one) then I'll go ahead and write it. Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think!

Cat.

PS. Just so you guys know, I'm not really a fan of one-shot stories. In fact, I kinda hate them, because you don't get any info after the end. This story, however, was too good to pass up, and it really was meant to be a one shot, because if I had dragged it on, then it wouldn't have had the same impact. Also, let me know if you think that this story is a bit unrealistic, that things happened too fast. Because I know I think it is, but I couldn't really work it out so that it didn't happen that way. That's really bothering me, though, as I suppose it would any other writer. Or maybe it's just because I'm an obsessive perfectionist. ;p