A/N: Hi, my name is Lyla, and I'll be writing this story. It's about George O'Malley, who died far too soon in my opinion, and left quite a legacy behind. I heard about Grey's doing an episode this season where Meredith's mother never had Alzheimer's and what life would be like for everyone then. Apparently they are bringing back soon people who had died previously, and I thought it would be a wonderful opportunity for Ms. Shonda Rhimes to bring back the very amazing TR Knight. That's where the idea for this story came from, though that's not actually what it's about. I know that was confusing, but stick with me for a bit longer. This story picks up right where the incredibly sad fall finale left off, so don't read if you don't want it spoiled. Please review and tell me what to do better. FEEL FREE TO TELL ME IN DETAIL WHAT I DID WRONG! FLAMES ENCOURAGED! Enjoy!

Disclaimer for whole story: Shonda created these characters. I just play with them between shifts at Orange Julius and community college.

George POV (as it will be for most of the story)

I shouldn't be surprised that there were no welcome home banners or surprise parties with balloons waiting for me in the lobby. My friends never really were much for balloons and parties anyway. They would much rather be saving the lives of those people who got alcohol poisoning at those parties. Given the choice, I guess I would too, but that was the common link between all of us.

I felt bad about leaving so suddenly. I know it was cowardly to not want to face disease when it hit close to home, but can you blame me for not wanting to watch my best friend die? It was bad enough watching my life fall apart and then getting put on the backburner to my friends' drama. My best friend was dying and she didn't even have the decency to tell me first. The girl I had been in love with for years, but was too scared to say anything to, was about to move in with a complete asshole. My old mentor had up and left me on my own. My other friends were moving on, growing up, getting married, and where was I? Still stuck as "007," the man who turned Callie Torres gay, the guy who didn't pass his intern exam; the butt of everyone's jokes.

Yeah, yeah, I know, I have people who love me and I was "heart-in-an-elevator" guy, but that doesn't change the fact that no one really seemed to care what I did anymore. So, I did something drastic. I joined the army.

It seemed like the reasonable thing to do at the time. I wanted to be deployed as soon as possible, and they made that happen. I just had to get away from everyone for a while. I hoped Izzie would live. I hoped she would be happy for the rest of her life with Alex, because I know we were not meant to be. I hoped all my friends were happy. But I guess the thing I hoped for most of all was that they would miss me.

Hope doesn't always work. Sometimes, hope can fail.

I really didn't know why I was coming home or what I was coming home to. Or even if I could call Seattle home anymore. But it was the last home I knew, so I figured I should go there.

I guess the part that surprised me the most was the fact that I literally felt like no one cared about me. I didn't get any letters, no videos, no notes, not even a postcard from my friends or family. And my friends, we were like family. At least, I thought so.

Maybe they were mad. That was the only conclusion I could come to after years of turning it over in my mind. But I didn't picture any of my friends to hold a grudge for this long. Cristina, maybe, but even she relented eventually. Not Meredith, certainly not Lexie, and I didn't even know if Izzie was still alive to hold a grudge against me. Maybe that's why I came back; to see if Izzie was alive or dead. I guess at this point I didn't really care what they thought of me, I just needed to see what they were doing.

I can see my mother and my brothers not supporting me. I can see them turning their backs on me. My family was morally against the army, though surprisingly pro-gun, since the day I was born. Is it surprising that I can see my family turning on me more easily than my friends?

I know, I know, there's a lot of "maybes" and "I guess" so far, but that's because that's all I've had to go on. I've spoken to no one from my life in Seattle for over 2 years. Hopefully that will change today.

It would rain on my first day back. Like it ever does anything but. I had decided to go straight to the Chief and ask for my job back, since I figured that would be more direct than a letter or email. It would show initiative. I hadn't changed much in the army, but I had grown stronger as a person, not as much of a doormat anymore.

I'm not quite sure how to describe the army. We shot guns, and trained and got in shape and fought for our country. It was an honor and a privilege to serve, but I had been discharged after being shot in the shoulder. I was primarily a trauma surgeon, but some days, they needed every hand on deck to fight off whatever enemy was coming our way. I hadn't seen much action, but that bullet was my ticket home. Straight shot, clean through, didn't damage any muscle or bone. It was a flesh wound, which meant I could simply go back to my old life with nothing but a purple heart on my chest and a stiff shoulder every now and then. And the dignity of serving my country.

I had missed my life. I wanted it back. I would do whatever it took for my friends to forgive me. I would beg on my knees. Especially Izzie. I shouldn't have left her like that.

I strolled through the airport. Normally when soldiers come home, they wear their uniforms, but I had chosen not to. Not because I wasn't proud of myself or my country or what I had done, but because I just wanted to be plain old George again, not Major O'Malley, trauma medic. I wore my plain old jeans and a flannel shirt and my favorite jacket which was probably not in style, but never really was. I felt like me again, and it felt good.

I got to baggage claim and claimed my baggage before hailing a cab. I guessed everyone would be working, but I still needed a place to stay. I decided Meredith would probably take me in (she was always housing the strays), if she still lived in her same huge house, so I went there first to drop off my bag. I used my key that I still had from all those years ago, and opened the door, seeing all of Mere's things still lying everywhere and a pair of scrubs on the banister. I called out to see if anyone was home, but no one answered.

I wandered through the house, taking in my surroundings as if I were scouting the enemy. I peeked in the upstairs bedrooms, noting that Alex and Izzie's things were gone, Mere had obtained a baby's crib and some elaborate drawing of a very colorful tumor on her wall and I saw one of Lexie's old Harvard shirts lying in one room. I also noticed many belongings I did not recognize. Yes, people had moved on, and they had thrown me out.

A/N: !