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Conversations at a Cafeteria Table

"You were avoiding us?" Bailey asked, her voice rising just as everyone at the table knew it would.

George took a deep breath as he scanned the eyes of those who had retired with him to a table in the otherwise empty hospital cafeteria. Then he closed his eyes and nodded, wincing, as she gave him a light smack to back of his close-cropped head. Laughter rose from the group as George pretended to shake out the cobwebs and rub away the sting.

"I already said I was sorry," George replied. "I just wanted to sneak in and sneak out today. I was coming back."

"Sure you were," Shepard teased.

"I was. I am." George looked over at Webber. "Lunch tomorrow at or around 11:30; the former Chief's my witness, and everyone's invited, since he's buying."

Webber nodded with straight face. "Mm-hm. Everyone okay with Ritz crackers from the second floor vending machine?"

"Whole Ritz crackers instead of saltines? Ooh-la-la, so faaancy," Callie said.

The group crackled with laughter again and George took all of it in.

"So why were trying to sneak in and out? Why not let anyone know you were coming?" Meredith asked.

George pushed out a breath. "This. Us sitting together and letting our coffees get cold while we talk." He gestured at the small stack of pictures that had been passed around – Callie's daughter sleeping on a snoozing Arizona's shoulder, Meredith and Shepard's little one pushing fistfuls of birthday cake into her mouth, and Bailey's boy Tucker with a great, silly grin plastered across his mug on his first day of school – which had finally ended up in the middle of the table. "As much as I love doing this – and I do – I didn't want to interrupt anybody's day. Except for Dr. Hunt's, of course," he said, testing the words to make sure they sounded true.

They did, and they were, mostly. It warmed his heart significantly just seeing these people, but he had genuinely wanted to avoid them today. There wasn't any malice in it; he just hadn't want to lose focus on his visit's actual purpose, and he feared spending too much time with his closest friends would cause him to do just that.

But now he was glad they had appeared. Instead of blurring his reasoning for wanting to work in this hospital, they clarified it, and further convinced him that coming back to Seattle Grace would be the best thing for his career.

He briefly considered coming clean to his assembled friends, talking about his hope of returning to the staff, or his conversation about it with Hunt. But he decided against it.

Meredith seemed to sense his thought process. "C'mon, George," she said, leaning forward. "What gives?" Her eyes narrowed. "Is this about you-know-who?"

"You-know-who?" Bailey asked. "Who's you-know-who?"

"No," George groaned. "And I don't want to talk about you-know-who."

"Guys?" Callie interjected. "Could we dispense with the vagaries? I need names to take home to Arizona, in case she decides to ask me why I'm late for dinner."

George frowned. "Dr. Michelle Thorne. Neurologist. From Toronto. Dark hair, dark eyes. Cool head, great sense of humor, smart as hell."

Shepard nodded. "I've read a couple of studies she's been part of. Smart as hell is an understatement." He raised his cup to George. "I'd been meaning to congratulate you."

"Thanks, but – " George offered a sad wisp of a smile. "She and I – we burned out."

Both Meredith and Shepard whitened with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry," Meredith said. "I didn't mean to – I mean, you hadn't talked about her in a while, but I – I didn't think – "

George shrugged. "It's okay. We realized that the only reason we were together was because we were both alone and far from home. I needed someone to hold on to, and so did she. And that's not how to build a good relationship."

"No, it isn't," Callie said. "But I'm still sorry to hear about your break-up, even though you didn't tell me about it, which does kinda-sorta tick me off," she added, giving him her best crazy-eyed glare.

"Thanks," George replied, mirroring her gaze. He dropped the expression after a beat for something more genuine. "I'm glad the Chief called you guys."

Bailey – who had parked herself on his right hip from the moment he walked out of Hunt's office – squeezed his hand in hers.

The assembled group dwindled rather quickly after that. Callie's phone had already sounded off a couple of times; the third alert was the one that finally tore her away, but not before she pressed a kiss on George's cheek and breathed in his ear that she was glad he was home. Meredith and Shepard were the next to go – they had to relieve the babysitter – and just as they departed, they secured his acceptance of a dinner at their house sometime soon. Webber reconfirmed lunch with George before he headed off to parts unknown to finish up some reports, and that left George and Bailey alone at the table.

"So," she said. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Sorry?" he asked.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "I've known you for a long time, George O'Malley. I've seen your ups and downs, your best and worst. And I can tell when you're holding something back." She gritted her teeth. "Have you decided to re-enlist? Is that it?"

George laughed out loud at that. "What?"

His response drew an icy glare from Bailey. "Don't laugh at me."

George's face fell. "I'm not laughing at you. I swear."

Bailey held her glare at him. "I'm someone who worried – no, worries, present tense – about you every day. Tucker calls you Uncle George and hugs your picture every night before he goes to bed. You are important to him – to us – and we've been waiting for you to finally come back home safe and sound and for good, so if you are even considering going back – "

"I'm not," George said softly.

As his quiet statement sunk in, Bailey's expression softened. "Good. I'm glad."

George sighed a bit. "I can't lie, I was thinking about it – seriously thinking about it – but after spending time with people here today, with my friends, I won't do it. I need to be a civilian again."

Bailey's eyes lit up. "That's why you came here, isn't it? Why you spoke to Hunt?"

George thought about denying everything, but decided against lying to someone who not only would instantly see through it, but be hurt and angry at his attempt at deception. So he nodded furtively and said, "I didn't want to say anything about it. And it can't go any further than between us."

A sparkle radiated from her now. "You made your pitch then? For the Emergency job?"

Of course she remembered him talking about it, he thought. She could've been blamed for putting the thought in his head 18 months before. "Yeah, I did. But the odds are so against me even getting a regular surgery slot here again, it's not even funny." George rubbed his temples. "I mean, forget about being a department head or even an associate head, I don't know if there's room for me in any part of Seattle Grace, or whatever it's called now."

"It's a one-in-a-million shot, that's true," Bailey said. "But it's a zero-in-a-million shot if you don't try."

"You're right."

"Better believe I am." Bailey closed her eyes and started stretching. "I need to head home, get some dinner. You want to come along? Tuck would be thrilled."

George checked his watch. "I would, but I promised my mom I'd be home, like, two hours ago. She's already none-too-thrilled with me."

"Then that's the direction you need to go." Bailey stood up.

He rose to his feet too. "Can you make it to lunch tomorrow?"

"It'll have to be a quick appearance, but yeah, I'll be there." She put her arms around him and hugged him close. "Promise to come by and see us soon?"

"Of course," George said. "I've got that visit planned out." He felt a wave of emotion roll through them both as he returned the familial embrace. "Thanks. For everything."

"You're welcome," she said softly, and gripped him just a bit tighter.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Never better," she replied.

To be continued...