Chapter Two
Love's Private Moments
Ambere Skye
"Denny? Denny are you with us?" Dr. Bailey's concerned face dove in and out of his mind. His unfocused eyes swirled around the room. Too many people and two little air. He coughed once, coughed twice, and then felt that all too familiar tingling pinch in his chest.
They'd shocked him, brought him back. All he could do was smile. These people had to be tired of his continuous dying episodes. Dr. Bailey smiled back at him, looking relieved. It was then he noticed that someone was squeezing his hand, and a tangled mass of curly blond hair was bent over his arm. Sensation came slowly. The wetness on his arm, the delicate numbing that the squeezing hand was inducing, the sweet sound of her sobbing, the slight shaking of her body.
It was his angel, he had truly made it back to heaven.
She looked up. She was so beautiful when she looked so lost. Her doe brown eyes, wide with fear and anguish, stared into his soul. Every time she looked at him, he gave his heart all over again. And to think she's accepted it, and tentatively gave hers as well. She'd said yes. He remembered that. She's said yes.
"Don't cry Iz," she heard him, even though the oxygen mask blurred his words. Her face straightened for a moment in a valiant effort to comply, but it crumbled again. He was such a sick man, blood clots, a new heart, there was just too much when it came to Denny. Too much. And her lack of experience in the trials and tribulations of love were only making it harder to handle. She was an emotional mess, her mood, her life flailing helplessly with the tide of his health.
"Do you know what happened, Denny?" Dr. Bailey asked, looking down disapprovingly at their entwined hands, and at Izzie's hiccupped gasps. Her patient didn't look up at her, focused on the beauty that was his fiancée.
"It felt like my head exploded," he muttered truthfully, reaching up with one hand to pull off the mask. Bailey looked as is she wanted to stop him, but resisted the urge when she realized that medicine wasn't going to heal him right now, just like it wasn't medicine that brought him back.
He had been half dead, body slightly convulsing, mouth twitching. But with almost every breath he took, Izzie's name was on his lips. If she wasn't worried, and about ready to kill one of her most promising interns, she'd appreciate the glow that seemed to surround them, the honesty in their feelings and the devotion in Izzie's presence.
"I know I just about died on you," Denny joked, his free hand stroking Izzie's once again bowed head. He looked up at his audience, observers, and staff, dressed up in their suits and gowns. "Can you give us a moment, a tiny one?" he tried to laugh off the thudding inside his skull, at least chuckle a bit, but the pain wasn't exactly gone, and he felt the blackness tugging at the edges of his eyes again.
They filed out the room slowly, leaving behind their pity. Denny hated pity, but he'd bare it if they'd leave, and Izzie would stop crying.
"Izzie?" without the crowd, the weight of her concern overwhelmed her. With a large sob she flung herself over his chest, not roughly, just soft enough to prevent him from any more damage. Her warmth was comforting, her attention was the balm for such a defeated spirit.
With one win, came three more losses. He had the heart, he finally had the damn heart. Now everything else wanted to break down.
"Its okay, Iz, its okay," he kissed her temple, stroked her cheek. She was finally soothed then, finally calmed. She kissed away her fear and his tiredness. Kissed him until they were both breathless and her head was swirling just as much as his.
"Denny, you have to live," she whispered, her forehead against his. She lifted the edge of her dress, and he saw it was pink. Pink, when everyone else wore black, yeah, that was his Isobel.
She curled up against his side, feeling that she finally belonged somewhere. And all her insecurity, all her doubts disappeared. All there was, all she needed lay quietly beside her, his fingers sending pleasant chills down her back.
-large sigh- I'm getting emotional all over again.I wish Denny hadn't died. I loved his character.
I'mreally thrown about how sweet you've been to my story, my baby. This is a new penname, so I'm not totally oblivious to the working of fan fiction, but these are some of the best reviews i've every gotten.
Pardon the length. I know it's short. Like, REALLY short. But that's how the inspiration comes; weaving through the writer's block and the ridiculous load of research and homework I have to do EVERY night. I'll try to update again, soon. Seriously.
(If you see any typos, mistakes or inconsistencies, please let me know. I want my first tribute to Denny and Izzie to be the best I can push out!)