Hey guys! I told you I'd update soon! I appreciate you're support. Oh, and there is some mild swearing in this fanfic as it goes on, but if you've watched Grey's Anatomy, you can probably read this safely. Enjoy!

Next I did what any fan girl would do in a dream of this sort. I leapt out of my bed and jump-hugged Derek Shepherd.

"Security!" He yelled. I pet his hair (Yes, pet). Very quickly 3 huge burly security guys rushed in and pulled me off of Derek. In real life, I would be terrified, but this was a dream, right? I leapt off the ground so that I could fly around, escape the guards, and go find the rest of my favorite doctors, like I would do in most of my dreams when I needed to escape. But unfortunately, I fell down on the cool hard floor.

"Ow!" This never happened in my other dreams. A few hours later I was strapped onto the bed with foam cuffs and waiting for Dr. Shepherd to reappear. So this wasn't a dream, then? I knew a Patrick Dempsey when I saw one, and this guy was it. So what was going on? Do I have some form of terrible (but wonderful) Schizophrenia? Is that why I'm in the hospital? Is that why I thought I could fly?

Just then Dr. Shepherd reappeared, and he reappeared with Alex at his side. As in Alex Karev, the fictional (or supposedly) character on "Grey's Anatomy."

"Please don't lock me up in a mental facility, I may be crazy, but I promise I won't hurt anyone!" Dr. Shepherd gave me a sympathetic look. Alex Karev eyed me like I was a rabid puppy dog, cute but deranged.

"Miss Green, as we identified from your wallet, you were found unconscious this morning on a park bench outside the hospital. I've run some tests, but I cannot find anything physically wrong with you, so we'll be moving you to Psyche this afternoon," Derek said.

"But wait! There has to be something wrong with me! I don't know who you are, but to me you look like TV show characters. Plus, I don't know where I am, where my family is, and it looks as if I've grown to be twenty-something. Last time I remember, I was just graduating high school," I explained. This time Karev did stare at me with sympathy.

"We tried to contact your family, but it doesn't appear that you have any. And you have no signs of having been in a coma, amnesia, or any visible forms of psychosis. I'm sorry, that's all we can do for you here on the surgical floor."

I burst out crying. What had happened? Was I truly crazy? Why did these two doctors look like people on TV? Calm down, Bernie. You'll get through this.

One thought gave me the slightest quiver of serenity.

"Can I at least see George? George O'Malley?" I asked. Both men seemed shocked at this, but Derek nodded and left the room with Alex. I sighed. I might be crazy, but at least I can be crazy seeing people like George O'Malley rather than be crazy and see flames and knives everywhere.

A few moments later, George stepped into the room with a mix of compassion and worry on his face.

"Hi there, I'm George," he said. "I'm probably not the person you were looking for, since we don't know each other, but I'd be happy to stay with you while they prep your room in Psyche."

That was George. Sweet, sensitive George, who would soon get hit by a bus. But this was my crazy, subconscious mind, so maybe I could edit that part out.

"Hi George, I'm Bernadette. You can call me Bernie. And I guess I'm crazy, because I have no idea what's happened, and you look like a TV show character to me." He laughed. Not a condescending laugh, but an empathetic, soft one.

"Who do I look like to you?" he asked gently and he sat at the edge of my bed.

"George O'Malley, from…never mind," I said sadly.

"But I am George O'Malley. How do we know each other?" He asked. He continued before I could answer his question. "Sometimes patients know who people are, but get their relationships with them confused. For example, such a patient might recognize their mother, but not know that they're their mother," he explained. "Maybe we know each other, and you remember me as a TV show character," he continued.

This notion made me feel better. It made me feel like I was less crazy. "That might be! Have you ever heard of a show called 'Grey's Anatomy?'" I asked.

"Nope," he shook his head of brown wavy curls.

"Then that must mean that I made the show up in my head and you all are real people!" I exclaimed.

"We are real people!" George said, excited for me about my revelation.

I settled back down. That was only one piece of the puzzle; it didn't explain what had happened to the rest of my life.

"Send him out of the room for a little while," a high pitched voice whispered into my ear. Oh shit, I really was Schizophrenic. "Just do it," the voice commanded. Well, it could only hurt a little it to listen to the voices, right?

"Hey George, do you think you could give me a minute to recuperate from everything that's happened?" I asked him.

"Oh sure," he got up to leave.

"Wait!" I stopped him. "But could you come back soon?"

"Lunch is in a half hour, you can join me and my colleagues," he said smiling. My heart fluttered.

"I would love too! But my arms and legs are strapped to this bed."

George looked me over. "Do you feel like hurting yourself?" He asked.

"No!"

"Do you feel like hurting me or anyone else?"

"God no! Hurting you would be like kicking and old, dying, 80 year-old woman!" I said. He gave me a grave look. "As in the sense that it's just plain wrong and I would never even fathom it," I explained.

He looked around to see if anyone was watching and then he unstrapped me from the bed. "If anyone asks, Dr. Karev did it," he joked.

"Oh believe me, I will tell them that."

After he unleashed – or, um, freed me, he left and waved. "See you at lunch." He smiled. Such a nice guy.

Thank you so much for reading. As always, I really appreciate reviews, favorites, anything you can offer! Love you guys! I'll update in a few weeks.