Another sad attempt at a chapter (though about two hundred times better than the last one…I really am sorry about that). This is pretty much thrown together due to my over-estimation of my skills. But at least I'm getting some stuff done so I can post those awesome chapters that I keep promising you guys.

(I'm not lying to get you to keep reading. The problem is that, when I was writing 'Is Forever Enough?', I was really pre-occupied with ideas for this one. And now that I'm here, I'm pre-occupied with future ideas. It's a sickness, truly. There's really good stuff coming, it's just taking me years and years to get it up because my mind does eight billion things at once…like rambling.)

Stick with me. The high-quality stuff is coming. (Try to) Enjoy!


It was a nurse who told me that Denny Duquette had died. I barely had time to process it before she was barking at me to go get Meredith. I peeked into one of the exam rooms (after looking everywhere else I could think of) and saw Meredith Grey in the shadows. I opened the door to find her with none other than Derek 'McDreamy' Shepherd. I let the fact that I had just completely busted an out-of-breath and half-way dressed Meredith and Derek slip my mind so I could focus on why I had come to find her in the first place.

"The nurse told me to come find you," I said to Meredith. "You have to come now. It's Izzie." Meredith glanced up at Derek then took a few steps out the door. "Wait, wait." I called, noticing that the ties on the back of her dress were undone. "Okay, go." I said after retying them. I shot Derek a dirty look then followed behind her.

I don't know why we were running. We all knew what we were going to find. Nothing was going to change if we got there faster. George and Cristina arrived at Denny's room at the exact second that Meredith and I did. Olivia was standing outside, looking terrified.

"What happened" George asked, coming to a stop before her.

"I didn't know what to do." She stammered. "I didn't think you guys would want me to go the Chief but-."

"Where is she?" Cristina interrupted.

"She's in there with him." Olivia answered meekly.

The four of us entered Denny's room to find Izzie, wearing her pink prom dress with her hair all done up, laying beside a lifeless Denny, her head nestled in his neck and her hand on his chest.

"Izzie…" Cristina said quietly.

"I think it was a stroke." Izzie finally said, half-whispering. Her words cut through the silence. "He was prone to blood clots. A clot could've formed on his sutures, traveled to his brain. It only takes a second."

"Iz," Meredith spoke softly.

"Dr. Hahn did a beautiful job on the surgery." Izzie continued. "But I don't know why I didn't think of blood clots." There was a pause as Izzie took a breath. "He died all alone." I swallowed hard, trying to rid my throat of the lump that was urging me, and probably everyone else in the room that was experiencing the exact same thing, to cry. "He was alone."

"There was nothing you could've done." George stated.

"I changed my dress three times." Izzie admitted slowly. "I wanted to look nice. I would've been here sooner but I couldn't figure out what dress to wear." George took a step closer to her.

"Izzie," He began. "We shouldn't be in here."

"Iz, there are things that they need-" Meredith started. "They need to move him."

"Take him to the morgue." Izzie whispered. Cristina now took a step forward.

"You can't stay here." She said. "I know you want to-"

"Can you please, please, just get out?" Izzie begged quietly. "I want to be alone with Denny."

"Izzie, that's not Denny." A voice called out from behind us.

"Shut up," Izzie answered, closing her eyes and holding Denny's body closer. Meredith and I stepped aside to let Alex Karev enter the room. He walked to her bedside.

"Iz, that's not Denny." He whispered, very softly. "The minute his heart stopped beating, he stopped being Denny. Now, I know you love him, but he also loved you. And a guy that loves you like that, he doesn't want you to do this to yourself. Because it's not Denny; not anymore."

Everyone fell silent a minute. I looked around the room, quickly, just to see how the others were reacting. George and Cristina were standing on the same side of the bed, just looking down to Izzie. Meredith was beside me, looking to be on the verge of tears and not trying her best to hide it. Olivia was behind us both, watching in shock. Alex was the only person who seemed to be all-together.

"An hour ago, he was proposing." Izzie whispered. "And now he's…and now he's going to the morgue. Isn't that ridiculous?" Her voice was breaking. " Isn't that the most ridiculous piece of crap that you've ever heard?" She cried. She held onto Denny's body, now sobbing.

"Come on," Alex whispered, leaning down to her.

Every single person in that room was feeling their heart break, now. Even I, who had never gotten along with Izzie, was feeling the effect. George looked away. Cristina, a woman who seemingly had not an emotion in her body, almost a robotic soul, was visibly upset. Meredith was about to cry. Alex lifted Izzie into his arms and sat in the chair a few feet behind him. He held her as she cried into his shoulder, the rest of us trying to contain our own emotion. I felt bad. It wasn't sympathy; I didn't feel sorry for Izzie. It was empathy. This extreme sadness, what all of us were feelings, was coming from the fact that we felt what Izzie was feeling. And we were all thinking the same thing. This wasn't fair.

I didn't know why this kept replaying through my mind. I was leaning against the bathroom wall. It was uncomfortable but I could barely feel it. I had been physically numb since the moment that George died. I was in the OR. I was there with him. He flat-lined. They tried to revive him. They tried everything. Owen and Derek are great doctors but there was nothing they could do. There was too much damage. As a doctor, I knew this. I knew it back when we all still thought he was John Doe. I knew John Doe was a goner. But then, out of nowhere, he was George. He was my ex-husband. He was my friend. So when I knew, when I knew, standing in that OR, that he was going to die, I was dreading the fateful words that I knew were coming.

"Time of death, 22:48." Derek said, in a tone that I'd never heard before. Everyone else in the OR was in shock. I reacted almost immediately. I collapsed. I fell to my knees. I couldn't breathe. Owen, who was beside me, fell to my side. He helped me tear off my surgical mask, in hopes that I could get some air into my lungs. My one hand was clutching my chest and my other was squeezing Owen's arm as hard as I could. Meredith must've panicked because she just bolted from the room, slamming the door behind her. Derek followed soon behind. Owen helped me into the hallway where I steadied myself between him and the wall until my legs stopped shaking. When I was able to stand on my own, I ran and found Arizona and Catalina.

And now here I was, locked in a bathroom, unable to control a single thought or tear. I knew that I wouldn't be going through that stage when a death doesn't quite hit you right away. Part of being a doctor meant that you learn to deal with things as soon as they happen so that you can put them behind you. I hated that part. It hit me as soon as Derek had said 'time of death'. There was no doubt in my mind for even a second, like most people who lose someone suddenly. This wasn't like a patient had died, a stranger that I could put behind me. This was George. As much as I would've liked to, I couldn't just cut off my emotions. Not this time. But, I felt as if I should. It was one part of being a doctor that I wished would just have an off-switch.

The confusing part was that I was unable to decipher my emotions. As far as George's death went, it was simple. I was crushed, depressed and devastated. I loved George. He was the first man I was ever truly in love with. It was more painful than anything I'd ever felt, but at least I understood it. My feelings on Izzie Stevens, however, were where my mind was jumbled into a tangle of mixed emotions. I had hated her so much and for so long that I wasn't quite sure how to feel when I heard that she died. Granted, when the news that she had cancer hit the hospital gossip mill, I felt a single emotion only; guilt. As I had told Arizona, I used to wish Izzie would die. It was a simple thought that, at the time, seem validated, almost excusable. But a year and a half later, when I was cooled off and my cancer-stricken ex-enemy was actually in a position where she very well could die, my mindset changed. It became impossible to rationalize my past wishes. I wasn't sure what I was feeling, but it was crippling.

I had stopped crying, feeling emotional numbness for a short period of time. Now I was just starting straight ahead, no actual thoughts were crossing through my mind. The scene of Izzie laying beside Denny's body. I still didn't know why that's what was on my mind, but it was. I was far too tired to try to force myself into other thoughts. I kept myself together for, what I thought was, about five minutes. Then I felt more tears coming. I was sick of crying. It had been hours of non-stop crying. It wasn't a great feeling. I wanted Arizona. She had managed to make me feel better, at least for the time that she was in with me. But if I knew Arizona like I thought I did, she was probably talking to my sister. Catalina had knocked a few minutes before Arizona did. I still wasn't sure why I didn't open the door for her.

In place of tears, my mind had begun to race back and forth between thoughts; Izzie and George, Arizona and Catalina, guilt and depression. I slumped down where I sat, pressing the back of my head hard against the wall and staring at the ceiling. I blinked away tears that soon slid down my cheeks. My only thought now was simple; how could this have happened? Before my mind could think of some sort of response to my own question, I heard a knock at the bathroom door. I turned to face it, assuming whoever was there was just going to walk in. But they didn't. Now, I was stuck with the decision of whether or not to open it. I was pretty much one-hundred-percent sure that it was Catalina. I silently tried to settle on what I wanted to do. It didn't take me that long. I lifted myself from where I sat, reached towards the door and opened it.


'Til the tears take over,
She's still in hell,
But she tells herself,
She's ready to let him go.

(Okay, so the song doesn't fit as well as I imagined that it would, but give me a break; I'm tired and school drains me!)

(Sorry if this stopped making sense and started sounding ramble-y at a point; I was trying to crack 2,000 words!!)