A/N: We're severely departing from Grey's Anatomy canon in this chapter, so the flashbacks here didn't really happen in the show.
Chapter Seven: Oh, The Guilt
Vera replaced the phone in its cradle and grinned triumphantly at his colleagues.
"What?" Kat asked, arching a brow at him.
"Just got off the phone with Mercy West," Vera announced. "They were kind enough to give me the name of the patient who was supposed to get the heart Denny Duquette wound up with." He consulted his notes. "Patient's name was Zachary Mortensen, 42. Died two days later, still waiting for a transplant."
"Ouch," Lilly replied sympathetically.
"But the interesting this is, guy leaves behind a wife and four kids. Here's their last known address…any takers?" he asked.
Lilly grabbed eagerly at the piece of paper, and Kat peered over her shoulder at Vera's scribbling.
"Gotta hand it to you," she admitted reluctantly, looking at Vera.
"Think that's…last donut in the box-worthy?" he asked, grinning at her. Her only response was a withering glare in his direction. Chortling gleefully, Vera headed off for the kitchen.
A few minutes later, the squad room was quiet. Lilly and Jeffries had gone off to track down the patient's relatives, Vera was still munching away in the kitchen, and Stillman had headed for the hospital to talk to the Chief of Surgery. Scotty and Kat sat at their desks, catching up on paperwork, when shuffling footsteps attracted their attention.
Alex Karev stood in the doorway, still in his surgical scrubs, a hoodie pulled over them and a defiant spark in his eyes. "You guys got a minute?" he asked.
"Always," Kat replied. "You got somethin' else that might help us with this case?"
Alex sighed and looked from one to the other. "I…I still haven't told you everything…about Izzie," he said reluctantly.
Scotty and Kat exchanged an exasperated glance, then tamped down the quickly rising frustration. Karev wasn't obligated to tell them anything…and they probably needed whatever he was about to reveal.
"Come on in," Scotty suggested, leading the way to the kitchen.
Alex sniffed the air quizzically. "Coffee smells great," he commented.
Scotty glanced at him in surprise. "No kiddin'," he remarked.
"Yeah," Alex replied enthusiastically, sitting down at the table. "Smells a helluva lot better than that crap they call coffee at the hospital."
Scotty chuckled, then grabbed a mug and poured some coffee into it before handing it to Alex and joining him at the table. "So…whaddaya got for us?" he asked.
Alex sighed and looked from Scotty to Kat. "It true you're threatenin' O'Malley with obstruction of justice charges?"
"All of you, really," Kat replied matter-of-factly, leaning on the table's edge. "You all have been lyin' to us from day one."
Alex clenched his jaw and looked up at the detectives. "If anybody's been obstructing anything, it's been me. Grey…O'Malley…they know stuff, but they don't know what I know."
"Which is?" Scotty asked pointedly.
"I know it's my fault Izzie's dead," Alex began.
Music: Dashboard Confessional, "You Have Stolen My Heart"
Alex Karev leaned against the nurse's station in the brand new Denny Duquette Memorial Clinic. The thing had gotten off the ground in record time, and Alex had to hand it to Bailey and Izzie: he'd never seen anything go up so fast. But, on the other hand, he hated it, because Bailey was insisting that all the interns take rotations in the clinic in addition to their usual surgical assignments. More like instead of, Alex griped. He hadn't seen the inside of an OR in two days, and had instead been handing out cold medicines and bandaging scraped knees. He was a surgeon, for God's sake. He should be saving lives, not…
"Karev, your patient," Bailey interrupted his dark reverie, handing him a clipboard. "Behind that curtain. Move it." Alex glanced down, not bothering to look at the patient's name or symptoms, and pulled back the curtain to see a short, stout, red-haired woman of about forty, sitting on the exam table.
"What seems to be the trouble…Donna?" he asked, finally taking the time to read the patient's chart.
"I think I'm…depressed…" she began, then listed symptoms that, indeed, described clinical depression to a tee. Alex listened patiently, then looked at her with compassion.
"How long have these symptoms been going on?" he asked. "Any specific incident, any traumatic loss in your life?"
Donna's face crumpled, and she immediately began to cry. Alex glanced around awkwardly for a tissue, which he finally located and handed to her.
"Thanks," she sniffled. "My husband…Zach…he died this past spring. He had heart disease…and we thought he had a heart…but some other patient got sicker all of a sudden…and..Zach…he wasn't top of the list anymore…" she trailed off, sobbing, and the wheels in Alex's head began to turn.
"Here's his picture," she said, fishing a snapshot from her purse. "He used to be so healthy, so full of life…and then he got sick…" she trailed off again.
Alex took the photo from her and studied it, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach at the tall, vivacious-looking blonde man in the photo, one child on his shoulders and two others holding his hands. Donna stood next to him, cradling an infant.
"When did your husband die, Donna?" he asked softly, handing back the photo.
"May 24th of last year," she told him, her voice broken and full of grief. "And we maxed out his health insurance…we have four kids, and I just went back to work, but I can't afford the insurance…so I'm here…because I read, in the papers, about this free clinic…"
Alex's jaw clenched, and he felt rage begin to rise in his chest. This woman…this widow with four kids…she was the other side of the Denny Duquette equation. The irony sickened Alex, and, in that moment, he hated Izzie Stevens more than he ever thought possible.
"What?" Donna asked, dabbing her eyes and looking curiously at Alex.
"Nothin'," Alex said, fighting the urge to just tell her everything. This wasn't right. It wasn't fair. This woman had been robbed of her husband, her children's father, her source of income, everything…just because Izzie Stevens had fallen in love with a patient, and the hospital refused to do anything except give her a nominal suspension. It just wasn't right. It just wasn't fair. He had to do something. He had to…
"Denny Duquette," Alex blurted out before he could stop himself.
"Excuse me?" Donna asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. "The…guy the clinic's named for? What's he got to do with…?"
"Denny Duquette was the patient who got your husband's heart," Alex explained, his brain shrieking at him to shut up, but his guilt being eased by each word out of his mouth. Izzie would hate him forever. Webber would fire his ass for ratting out the hospital. But Alex didn't care. He had to make this right.
"How do you know that?" Donna asked, her voice timid and wavery.
"Because I was there when it happened," Alex explained. "Iz—Dr. Stevens…she…she did…"
"What did she do?" Donna asked urgently.
"I…I can't say anymore," Alex said reluctantly. "I'm gonna give you a prescription for an anti-depressant," he said, scribbling on his pad. He then reached into his coat pocket and handed her a
business card. "This is for the on-site grief counselor," he explained, handing the card to Donna. "It might help you."
Donna eyed Alex sharply. "What else do you know?" she demanded.
Alex met her gaze matter-of-factly. "You might wanna get a lawyer," he told her. "'Cause it looks like you've got an excellent case against this hospital in general, and against Dr. Stevens personally." Without a backward glance, he pulled back the curtain and walked out, his heart roaring in his ears.
"I…I think I mighta said too much to Donna," he said slowly.
Kat and Scotty met each other's eyes and exchanged a glance, then Scotty turned to Alex.
"Look," he began. "What happened to Izzie…that ain't your fault. You did the right thing, she didn't. She stole a patient's heart. Now, I ain't sayin' she deserved what she got…but I am sayin'…it ain't your fault." He looked intently into the doctor's eyes, and Alex finally nodded in agreement.
"Tell your friends not to worry about those obstruction charges," Kat said softly. "And…thank you. Thank you for telling us the truth."
Lieutenant Stillman," Chief Webber greeted the boss as he stepped into the office of the Chief of Surgery. "Thanks for stoppin' by."
"Sure thing," Stillman replied, taking a seat across from Webber.
"I'd have come in myself," Webber explained, "but these damn interns…keeping track of them is a full time job in and of itself."
"I hear that," Stillman replied, chuckling sympathetically.
"Then there's the surgeries, and the paperwork…I'm lucky I ever see the outside of these four walls," he continued, and Stillman nodded in agreement.
"So…how's the Stevens case looking?" Webber asked, leaning back in his chair.
Stillman instantly dropped the jovial friendliness and fixed Webber with a steely glare. "It's funny…you actin' like you care."
Webber narrowed his eyes at Stillman. "Excuse me?" he asked icily.
"Well," Stillman explained patiently. "If you really cared about solving Izzie Stevens' case, you wouldn't have ordered all your interns to clam up about what really happened."
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Webber responded. "You…you think it was an inside job? Someone from this hospital took the life of a fellow doctor?"
"Someone from this hospital contributed to taking the life of a patient," Stillman replied, without missing a beat. "Someone from this hospital fell in love with her own patient, manipulated his statistics, and finally snipped his LVAD wire in two and stopped his heart just so he could get ahead on the transplant list. Yes, someone from this hospital took a life, it looks like to me."
Webber sighed. "So you know."
"Of course we know," Stillman snapped. "You think you were gonna keep this a secret forever?" He rose from the chair and leaned over Webber's desk. "What could possibly make you think that tellin' an entire hospital full of doctors to lie to the police would get this murder case solved? All those precious interns of yours? They're all facin' obstruction charges unless you come clean."
"This hospital is one of the largest transplant centers on the East Coast," the Chief explained. "Transplant revenues bring in millions upon millions of dollars every year, and if word about what Izzie Stevens did got out…UNOS would yank our certification so fast we wouldn't know what hit us."
"So you covered it up," Stillman concluded. "Even though it meant letting the murder of one of your own doctors, a very good doctor, by all accounts, go unpunished? The doer's still out there, y'know."
Webber sighed again and rubbed a hand over the top of his head. "Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I hate the fact that whoever killed Izzie Stevens is still at large?"
"So, then, why'd you do it?" Stillman demanded, his voice sharp.
Webber sighed again and began to pace the area behind the chair of his desk. "As doctors, we make life-and-death decisions all the time. Sometimes one patient has to die so others can live. And Izzie Stevens, as tragic as that was…I couldn't risk letting the secret get out. Transplants save thousands of lives each year…hundreds at this hospital alone. If we lose UNOS certification, how many people will die waiting for organs because we can't save them? Dr. Stevens wouldn't have wanted that."
"Dr. Stevens would want whoever robbed her of the ability to save those lives to spend the rest of theirs in jail," Stillman retorted. "Now tell me what else you're keeping a secret!"
Webber met Stillman's eyes, and it was clear from the expression in the Lieutenant's steely blue-gray eyes that further resistance would be futile. Sighing in defeat, he sat down. "I didn't even know whose heart it was, until…"
Music: Grey's Anatomy original underscoring
Chief Webber sat at his desk, filling out paperwork. That was what he hated about being Chief of Surgery: too damn much paperwork, and not enough time in the OR. Interns running amok, his wife constantly threatening divorce…maybe it really was time to think about retirement.
His stream of inner grumbling was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Chief?" his secretary asked. "There's a Donna Mortensen here to see you."
A blank look crossed Webber's face. The name didn't sound familiar. "Did she say what it's about?"
The secretary just shook her head, and Webber sighed. "Send her in."
The secretary left, and a moment later, she was replaced in his doorway by a middle-aged red-haired woman who plopped a newspaper article on his desk. "What's the meaning of this?" she demanded, her voice soft, but intense.
Chief Webber glanced at the article. "Free Clinic Opens At Philadelphia Grace," the headline proclaimed. "Doctor Donates 8 Million Inheritance," was right underneath it.
"One of our doctors donated some money to start a free clinic to serve underprivileged members of the community," he explained, a puzzled frown creasing his brow.
"No," Donna hissed. "What's the meaning of this?" she asked, jabbing a finger at a picture of Denny Duquette, right next to one of Izzie Stevens.
"Dr. Stevens was the donor," he explained.
"And Denny Duquette got my husband's heart because of her," Donna retorted angrily. "I know it was him. And I know Dr. Stevens had something to do with it," she added. "I know she pulled some strings, or something, to get that heart for Duquette…just don't know why. But it doesn' t matter," she continued, "because one of your doctors at the very least broke policy, and she got rewarded with the inheritance of her dead patient."
"Now, listen here," Webber began, but Donna wouldn't hear of it.
"You don't tell me exactly what she did, I'm going to the papers. I'm going to the press. I'm going to UNOS," she threatened.
Webber sighed. "What do you want?" he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.
"I want my husband back," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "But…since that can't happen…I want to see that my kids are taken care of."
Webber, seeming to grasp her meaning, looked up and sighed again. "How much?" he asked.
"Eight million dollars," Donna replied. "The same amount Stevens got, or I'm going to the papers." She stared at him icily.
"You don't have proof," Webber argued.
"I have a doctor who's willing to tell everything," she replied.
Webber froze at that. One of his doctors…one of his doctors who knew exactly what happened…who could that be? He couldn't be sure. Four interns had sat in his office that spring and all had taken the blame for the Duquette debacle…and he knew they were all covering for Stevens. Such loyalty…such solidarity…he knew he could count on them to keep the secret. But now…if one of them was willing to talk…
"I'll have my secretary draft a check," he replied quietly.
"Good," Donna replied. "Now, if you could tell me where I might find this…Dr. Stevens," she said, her voice dripping with contempt.
Webber glanced up in alarm. "I'm afraid I can't do that," he answered.
Donna nodded, then picked up the newspaper. "It's all right," she replied softly. "I've got what I need."
Before he could even respond, she turned and walked away.
"What did she want to see Dr. Stevens for?" Stillman asked.
"I…don't know," Webber replied. "I really don't. And…I don't want to know."
"Do you think she could have hurt Dr. Stevens?" he asked.
"I just don't know," Webber said again.
Donna Mortensen sat motionless at the table in the interview room, her eyes fixed straight ahead, unfocused, barely even blinking.
Lilly, heading into the room with Jeffries, took Izzie's stethoscope and placed it on the table in front of Donna, glancing at their suspect to gauge her reaction, but Donna didn't even flinch.
"You know what this is, don't you?" Lilly began. "I mean, after all, you've had it in your house for over a year."
"I've never seen it before," Donna replied flatly.
"It's Izzie Stevens' stethoscope, Donna," Lilly continued as she leaned closer to Donna, her voice taking on just a touch of an impatient edge. "You know because you killed her."
Donna barely blinked. "I don't know what you're talking about," she responded, almost automatically.
Lilly and Jeffries exchanged a glance, and he sat down next to Donna and fixed her with a sad, kindly smile. "I know how hard it is to lose a loved one," Jeffries began, as Lilly looked at him in surprise. "My wife was killed in a hit-and-run."
"I'm sorry," Donna replied, almost as a reflex.
"I couldn't see past the pain," Jeffries continued smoothly. "The grief was making me crazy, and I just wanted to find whoever was responsible for stealing my wife away from me, and make him pay."
"Did you find him?" Donna asked, curiosity twinkling in her otherwise vacant eyes.
"I did," Jeffries answered, and Lilly continued to stare at him in amazement. She'd known what had happened to her partner's wife, but she'd never, ever heard him talk about it. "Tracked him down a while back…even put a gun to his head…but in the end, I couldn't do it. Taking his life wouldn't bring my wife back. And…killing Izzie Stevens didn't bring your husband back, did it?"
Donna's eyes filled with tears, but she didn't answer.
"We know you killed her, Donna," Lilly added softly. "We know you went to Philly Grace looking for Izzie Stevens the day she died, and we know she was shot with a .38 registered to your late husband."
Donna remained motionless, the tears spilling over, but still, she said nothing.
"You had quite a bone to pick with Izzie," Jeffries continued. "She robbed you of the man you loved. Your kids' father. You had everything, and then you had nothing, and Izzie Stevens was responsible."
"It just--it just wasn't fair," Donna finally said, her voice choked with anger and grief. "Zach was first on that list."
"We know," Lilly replied. "And Izzie decided that her patient was more important than yours. She should have been punished."
"But instead, she got to go on her merry way. She got eight million dollars from Denny Duquette, while you're sitting here with no health insurance wondering how you're gonna keep your house, how you're gonna take care of four kids on your own," Jeffries added.
"You were grief-stricken, suffering from depression; the DA'll take all that into account, and we wanna help you…but we need you to tell us what happened," Lilly said softly.
Donna picked up the stethoscope, turning it over in her hands for several seconds before she finally began to confess. "I wanted Izzie to see that her heart…was just as sick as Zach's."
Music: Cold Case original underscoring
Heart pounding, Donna pushed open the door leading out to the roof of the hospital. She'd been told that the doctors came up here regularly to take a break, and Izzie had been seen heading that way just a few minutes before.
There she stood…near the railing, looking out at the night sky, her blonde hair fluttering gracefully in the breeze. Donna expected to feel some kind of guilt, some kind of check in her conscience warning her that, perhaps, she shouldn't be doing this…but all she could feel was hatred…and pain.
She patted her purse, the purse that contained her husband's gun. He'd bought that gun for protection. They'd never used it for that.
The noise of her footsteps must have attracted Izzie's attention, because she turned to look at Donna.
"Can I help you find something?" Izzie asked kindly. "Are you lost?"
"Lost…" Donna repeated bitterly, almost laughing at the irony. "You could say that."
"What are you trying to find?" Izzie asked, coming closer.
"The truth," Donna replied coldly.
"Okay…" Izzie responded blankly, just the slightest flicker of fear showing in her brown eyes. Fear was good. Maybe she'd finally spill.
"I wanna know why you stole my husband's heart," Donna ordered.
"Excuse me?" Izzie rejoined.
"Denny Duquette," Donna said icily, coming closer and closer to Izzie. "He got the heart my husband was supposed to get."
"There…there must have been a—a mistake," Izzie stammered, reading the cold hatred in Donna's eyes.
"There was," Dona replied menacingly. "My husband was first on the transplant list, and the next thing we know, Dr. Hahn is in his room telling us that another patient got sicker all of a sudden, and the heart was going to him."
"There's no proof that Denny was that patient," Izzie replied slowly.
"Oh, there is," Donna confirmed. "People talk."
Izzie backed away from Donna slowly, but Donna kept coming. "I—I can explain," Izzie stammered. "Denny…he—he signed a DNR. This was it. He was tired of waiting for a heart. If he didn't get this heart, this exact heart…he'd die. There were two hearts," she continued, still backing away from the ever-nearing Donna. "Denny was supposed to get one, and your husband was supposed to get the other. But one of the hearts flatlined."
"So Zach paid with his life because you decided to play God, is that it?" Donna demanded. Izzie was silent.
"Answer me!" Donna shrieked, near hysterics.
"Denny…Denny died anyway," Izzie protested weakly. "I lost someone, same as you."
"Same as me?" Donna repeated bitterly. "Same as me? No, you did not lose Denny same as me. You lost Denny because he was doomed from the beginning. I lost Zach because you took him from me…you stole him from me. You manipulated his statistics somehow, and I want to know how you did it."
Izzie tried to back up, but she realized she was at the railing, and soon Donna was leaning over her, grabbing the stethoscope from around her neck. Izzie looked down nervously.
"All right," she said, raising her arms in a gesture of surrender, and Donna backed up slightly, still gripping the stethoscope.
"Denny was on the portable LVAD…and I…I cut the LVAD wire to stop his heart so he'd get the donor heart," she explained, tears filling her eyes.
If Donna was angry before, she was furious now. She plugged the stethoscope into Izzie's ears, then pressed the cold metal to the doctor's heart. "You hear that?" she demanded hysterically. "That's your heart. Your black, evil heart. Maybe it's healthy, but you need a transplant, too. You can't just play God because you think your patient deserves to live more than my husband does!" she shrieked.
Izzie was sobbing now. "I loved Denny," she protested.
Donna whipped the gun out of her purse. "I loved Zach," she retorted coldly, then, before Izzie even had a chance to react, she pulled the trigger.
Music: The Fray—"Over My Head"
Donna scrawled her signature across the bottom of her confession, then placed the stethoscope on top of it and rose from her seat. Jeffries gently clapped her in handcuffs and led her from the room, through the squad room, and to the uniformed officers waiting just outside.
Miranda Bailey left the Denny Duquette Memorial Clinic, cooing softly to Tuck, who was balanced on her hip, a wide grin on his face as he toyed with his mother's hair. Bailey turned slightly to free it from his chubby grip, and in doing so, saw Denny leaning against the railing on the roof of the clinic, grinning slightly at her. Stunned, Bailey could only stop and stare for a few seconds until Denny faded into oblivion.
Scotty meandered down a hallway at Headquarters, up on the top floor, where very few people ever were. He glanced down the hall, studying each doorway, and finally approached one, where he peeked in the window. Seeing nothing, he tested the door, found it open, and poked his head in to take a look around. As he studied the room, a wicked grin crossed his face, and he closed the door, tapped it with his fingers a couple times, then, his grin broadening, headed back down the hallway.
Officials from UNOS knocked on the door of Richard Webber's office, and, with a reluctant sigh, he motioned them in. They sat down across from his desk, looking stern and disapproving.
Outside the Chief's office, Alex Karev walked along the breezeway, studying a patient's chart. He glanced up then to see men in UNOS uniforms carrying boxes of documents from the Chief's office. Webber turned then, and met Alex's eyes. Alex stared back, almost defiantly, and the Chief finally turned away and sank down into his desk, cradling his head in his hands. Alex, satisfied, started to walk away, but saw, to his utter surprise, Zachary Mortenson standing in the hallway, plain as day. Alex stared for a moment as Zach nodded his thanks, then turned to walk away, disappearing as he did so. Alex shook his head in disbelief, then smiled slightly and went back to studying the chart.
Lilly approached Meredith Grey in the hospital hallway and handed her Izzie's stethoscope. She spoke to Meredith for a few minutes, telling her what had happened, and Meredith listened attentively, her green eyes slowly filling with tears.
In another part of the hospital, George O'Malley walked past his former wife, Callie Torres, as she headed into the on-call room. She stopped, and their eyes met briefly. George gave her a slight smile, which she returned, then proceeded into the on-call room without a backward glance.
Back in the squad room, Vera was packing up Izzie's evidence box when he came across the photo of her as Bethany Whisper, her long golden hair tumbling over her shoulders and her curves accentuated in black lacy lingerie. Suddenly, he found the picture being gently yanked from his hands, and he looked up to see Kat Miller giving him one of her famous withering glances. He shrugged and gave her what he hoped was an innocent grin, and she rolled her eyes slightly, put the picture in the box, and replaced the lid.
Stillman and Jeffries put the box in its final resting place on the shelf, and Jeffries took the black marker and wrote "Closed" on the end of it. The two exchanged a slight smile, then Stillman placed a supportive hand on Jeffries' shoulder as the two of them turned to leave.
Meredith Grey smiled brightly as she opened the door to reveal Alex, Cristina, and George all standing on her doorstep. She beamed as she let them in. This was the first time since Izzie's death, really, that they'd all gotten together. Soon, wine and conversation were both flowing, Alex and George were teasing each other good-naturedly, Cristina was mocking them both, and Meredith was leaning her head against Derek's shoulder while he smiled contentedly and played with her long hair. Suddenly, Meredith looked up to see Izzie standing in the doorway, wearing a pink sweater, her hair up in a bun. Izzie looked around the room at her friends, smiled wistfully, then turned around and walked out.
A/N: Thanks for reading this; hope you really enjoyed it! Next up: "Fools In Love," the sequel to "Every Time Two Fools Collide." Look for it later this week!