A/N: written for a lovely prompt given by McSnoopy69 on Grey's Haven to write a fic based on the song "What Might Have Been" by Little Texas. My first time writing Alex/Izzie. Reviews would be appreciated.
"We're very lucky to have with us today a pioneer in pediatric oncology. I'm sure you'll all join me in warmly welcoming our next speaker, Dr Isobel Stevens, presenting her recent ground-breaking research into the treatment of acute myeloid leukemia."
Although it was a medium-sized conference room, the number of doctors and other medical professionals attempting to cram into it made it seem small. But he didn't see them or hear their polite applause as the famous oncologist walked up to the podium, arranged her papers and smiled shyly at her audience.
She was the same. Well, considering she was in her early fifties. Her hair was still blonde and long, although he could see a few strands of gray and it was up in a neat chignon, rather than the gorgeous, tumbling mess he remembered.
What the hell was he doing here? Just because they were holding this conference in Seattle didn't mean that he had any business being there. He could have killed Meredith for telling him about it. Pediatric oncology! They could probably all tell he didn't fit in. Plastic surgeon was probably written all over his face. Still, like Mark Sloan had always said, plastic surgeons removed tumors. He realized that a defiant sneer had plastered itself on his face and quickly wiped it off.
She had put on her glasses and was speaking, consulting her notes. "A long time ago, I wanted to be a surgeon . . ." But he stopped listening to her words. He knew part of her story from personal experience, and the rest of it from reading about her in the medical press. Instead, he listened to her voice. It was almost the same, but even softer and richer, and self-assured in a way that she'd only given glimpses of when he'd known her.
He had tried not to, but he'd thought about her now and then; he'd imagined what she might be like. It had started the day he went AWOL from the surgical program at Seattle Grace. When he'd returned, after a breakdown and too much alcohol and just about enough therapy, and the Chief had taken him back, she'd gone. Something about not wanting to be hardcore, having different goals, wanting to care about the patients, Meredith had said.
Even from the middle of the room and even with her glasses on, he could see the brown of her eyes. Soft, warm, kind, forgiving. That's how she'd looked at him that night. She'd forgiven him; she'd understood. She made the difference - for his past, for Rebecca and for everything he'd gone through after he took off. The look in her eyes always made the difference. Whether she was there in front of him or only in his imagination. Whether she was his or not. She always made the difference.
Except that one time. Her eyes had held a different look when she'd caught him with Olivia. He'd blown it that day. She'd bought his act that he didn't love her and she hadn't seen though it. He'd done too good a job of covering it all up and making himself seem all too much like the stupid fuck everybody took him for.
He forced himself back to reality. It was a long time ago. He was the Head of Plastics at Seattle Grace. He'd made it as a surgeon and he had a good life with his wife Sandy. He wasn't the same guy. He'd made a life. It's just that he'd wanted to see her one time. He'd wondered how she'd turned out.
"Alex?" She was standing in the aisle, completely heedless of the two or three doctors crowding her with fawning questions.
She smiled. She'd removed her glasses and there were those eyes he remembered. He smiled back but couldn't find his voice.
"Yay!" she said uncertainly. "It's been such a long time! Your hair's all gray! Whoa!" She smiled broadly now, delighted to see him. Despite her fame and stature and all the time that had passed, she really was the same. And she stirred up old memories and feelings that he didn't know what to do with.
"Hey, Iz," he said quietly and stood up.
"Wow!" she said. "We should . . . hug or something!" She was obviously uncomfortable and she was covering it up by being nice. Effusive. Being herself. She opened her arms and he couldn't help responding. It was an awkward hug. A hug between two eminent professionals who hadn't seen each other in over twenty years. But there was still something. A mixture of love and regret and missing the mark and pure, unadulterated friendship. It had always been that way.
"I'm glad you went back," she said softly, close to his ear. "I'm so glad you worked it out."
"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have just gone off like that, I—"
"I understand," she said. "You had to. I get that." She paused. "Like I had to transfer to oncology."
"And New York."
"And . . . New York," she faltered and he could see a suspicion of tears in her eyes. They both knew she'd transferred there to get away from her memories of him. She forced a smile and waved her left hand at him to show off her rings. A delicate gold filigree band and an engagement ring sparkling with diamonds. "I got married two months ago," she said. "Charlie's an artist. I treated his daughter Claire and we got to know each other."
He nodded. "Congratulations, Iz," he said. "I'm pleased for you."
She mirrored his nod and searched his face with her eyes before asking, "Are you seeing anyone?"
He laughed slightly. "Yeah," he said. "Believe it or not, I'm married." He lifted his hand and showed her his plain gold wedding band. "Sandy," he said. "And we have a son, Jacob."
"That's so great," she said gently. "I'm so happy for you." She paused before adding hesitantly, "I'll bet you're a great father."
He shrugged. He didn't do a bad job. Jacob was an easygoing kid and Sandy was a great mother. "Better than some," he finally answered. He had come to terms with his childhood, but it would still never be easy for him. Izzie was one of the few people who really understood.
Before she could reply, he said, "Iz. There's something I have to tell you. I know it's too late and I know it doesn't matter anymore and I know we both have our own lives." He looked slightly away from her and focused his eyes on the ground for a moment. "Just . . . thank you. Thank you and . . . I loved you. The shit I pulled with Olivia . . . that was because I couldn't deal; I couldn't . . . " He didn't know what else to say. It was a past life. He just wanted her to know.
She touched his arm and smiled again. "I know," she said. "But we can't go back."
He nodded.
"I have to talk to these people," she said. He knew it was partly an excuse, but she had always been conscientious. "It's so good to see you and I'm really happy that you've made a good life. You deserve it."
He nodded again. "You too, Iz," he said in a low voice.
She leaned into him. "There are things I could say," she confided, "that would get me into trouble and make it hard for both of us. We can't go back and I love my life and I don't want to change it. But . . ." she stood back again and smiled at him with twinkling eyes. "Every time I shave my legs for a date, I think about you and sometimes I think about what might have been. A girl has to have a fantasy life." She gave a soft laugh and nudged him playfully.
He smiled and nudged her back. "You gave a good speech," he said.
"Yeah, right," she said. "I'll bet you weren't even listening to it. I already met your mentor, remember? I know all about plastic surgeons."
He laughed softly. "Can't blame me for having my own fantasies," he flirted genially. "Specially when the speaker's so hot."
She blushed just a little. "Damn right I am!" she laughed. "And now I really have to work."
He smiled. "See you round, Iz. It's been a long time and it was really good seeing you."
She swallowed. "Alex," she said. "We should just say goodbye now." She took his hand and gave it a soft, almost caressing shake before letting it go again.
He couldn't reply as she turned away and went back to her life; and he stared after her for a few seconds before turning, leaving the conference room and going back to his.