It's gonna take a Superman to sweep me off my feet
So this just in - I'm in love with Heroes. I'll be writing Heroes. Heroes owns me.
Jesus, exactly what I need, another fandom.
:)
Can I marry the boy who plays Mohinder? Is he married already? No, don't tell me. I don't want to know. I want to cling to irrational fantasies of running into him at the Starbucks in Bellmeade. (Hey! It could happen. Kimmy ran into Keith Urban the other day.)
Okay, okay, I know the guy who plays Mohinder isn't a country music singer, and has absolutely no reason to be in Nashville buying overpriced coffee in ritzi neighborhoods. I get that. Burst my bubble, why don't you.
Yes, I'm sick. And it's making me loopy. Not enough oxygen to the brain. Feel free to ignore.
For now I'm posting the next part of the GA series and getting back to the first Heroes fic.
Heroes!
+
Title: Where Fight or Flight Breaks Down
Fandom: GA
Pairing: George/Izzie
Part: 3/?, sequel to Putting Off Inevitable and Too Late For Happily Ever After
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm only responsible for their fictional corruption.
Summary: Six months later, boy have things changed.
A/N: New series at long last. No spoilers so let's call this AU. Thanks to everyone who is gung ho about this. You guys keep me motivated.
+
Basic instincts are hard to resist. Fight or flight, something so ingrained that often enough a body begins before head and heart catch up.
Izzie's inside the house, locking deadbolts and sliding security chains before she can catch her breath, before she can remind herself. She's running from George not Michael Myers. She's not in any sort of real danger.
There's a good chance he won't even follow her.
The cell phone in her purse ringing - makes her jump a mile anyway. Caught. She's caught and so not prepared to deal with the situation.
She looks down at the small illuminated screen and expects to see George's face, a number she hasn't seen in days, weeks, months. She dreads having to make the decision to answer or ignore, to hear his voice or face the message alone. These decisions were so much easier when she had a best friend standing beside her.
A fleeting memory, fading now after all that's come since, flashes through her mind. Denny's voice and George's hand in hers, tears that were just as salty as the ones currently threatening her makeup.
When she screws up the courage to look the caller ID blinks "Mark Sloan," and Izzie's sigh is neither relieved or disappointed.
Click.
"That was some impressive footwork, Stevens. Cross country in high school?" The smirk in his voice is almost enough.
Almost enough to make her smile. "Some of us didn't go to prep school hell, the
only running I ever did was from the principal."
Mark's laugh is amused enough for both of them. "Smoking in the girl's room?"
Izzie's grateful he didn't go for the obvious - and much more accurate cliche of - "making out under the bleachers with the Captain of the football team." Sometimes she forgets that George is the only one who knows that this isn't her first time at the rodeo. "Why are you bugging me Mark, I told you that we-"
"Hold up, Kiddo. That's not why I'm calling. Just wanted you to know that he was heading your way." Mark interrupts her before she can start kicking the dead horse fully.
He's been trying to get her to go out with him for months. Playing nice and giving her the hard sale, complete with chocolates and flowers and decaf Mochochinos. If it wasn't for the baby, if it wasn't for George...
"Don't say I never did anything for you." He orders.
And then she does smile.
Izzie listens to the rest, Mark's brief explanation or what Olivia said, one of the new interns told her, one of the janitors shared with them, a patient saw Callie do to George - but she doesn't really hear anything but the pounding of her own heart.
- - -
When Meredith gets home first Izzie almost goes out the backdoor. She's only stopped by the sound of heals hitting hardwood.
The swish of Izzie's socks sliding back into the foyer catch her friend and roommate off guard, which is why a bag of groceries ends up flying half way across the room.
"Damn, Izzie, what the hell?"
"Sorry, sorry, let me just lock the door back and I'll help you clean that up." Izzie shakes off the look Meredith gives her, that look that she's suddenly acting a lot crazier than normal.
"You can't really think you are going to be able to avoid him?" Meredith asks, bending down to reload french bread and peanut butter, Pop tarts and brown sugar.
It takes Izzie a minute and Meredith's outstretched hand to get to her knees but then she's comfortable enough. A carton of eggs managed to survive the fall, cushioned by an extra large bag of nuts and cocoa.
"Derek says that he expects his own "warm and gooey" pan, tomorrow morning at the latest."
Meredith climbs to her feet and crosses to the living room to deposit the recovered goods on the coffee table.
Izzie just settles further down.
The knock surprises them both.
Knock knock.
Dr. McIntyre says that Izzie needs to stop overindulging in baked goods. He always follows it with an apologetic smile, and a delicate reminder that she has three months to go. She didn't really care if he was right or not until the sound of George's "Izzie? Meredith? Anybody home?" made her feel like a cornered animal.
She's too fat to escape on her own, and Meredith just shakes her head when Izzie starts frantically motioning for help, when she starts pointing toward the only other exit.
"You have to tell him." The turncoat whispers and starts for the door.
"Guys? I see your car. I know you are in there. Please."
When Izzie latches onto her leg, Meredith has to stop. Has to look down and see the blinking eyes and pouty lip, the pathetic image she's creating these days.
"Talk through the doorway." Meredith orders, loud enough for them both to hear. "I'll put up the groceries later."
There is nothing perishable that needs to be put in the refrigerator right away, nothing that can't wait - so Meredith heads upstairs. Leaves them.
To ruin something else.
- - -
"Izzie?"
George's voice is muffled by the thick door between them, and despite herself Izzie scoots closer, liking the way it makes her feel comfort underneath the fear.
"Please say something."
The problem is, and has been since she peed on a stick the week after he disappeared, that she doesn't know what to say.
Um, yeah, George - I'm pregnant. You know, me? The girl you cheated on your wife with, the best friend you didn't want anything more from. Yeah, sorry. All I seem to do is make your life more complicated.
"Are you okay? Just tell me that. Tell me you are okay. Please Izzie."
The problem is - Izzie isn't. Where does she begin?
I'm scared, George. I'm lonely. I want to see you and I don't. Most days this is all I can think about, what you'll say and what you will do. Every once in a while I even think it will work out.
The silence fills up everything, the space in front of her, the porch behind the door her back rests against.
It's something that he doesn't leave. It's something that he waits. Turn about has never, was never, something she thought should be hard on both parties.
There's something I have to tell you.
"It's over Iz."
Izzie catches her breath, and holds it until something starts to burn, until the sound of his head hitting the barrier between them, snaps her out of it.
"Running isn't the answer. I know that now. Callie and I are over, and I want to make this up to you. I - I have to make this up to you. I - I love you Iz."
She wants to laugh but she's crying again.
You have a lot to make up for.
Izzie could say it all, but in the end she says nothing. She just reaches up to unlock the door.
- - -
He sees her, sitting on the bottom step, looking as beautiful as he remembers and twice as sad.
Lovely, and weary, and very very pregnant.
George can't breathe suddenly and this - this - is where fight or flight breaks down. Just seeing her there, still and always, makes neither one an option.
Just knowing what he's done - roots him to the spot.
Jesus, exactly what I need, another fandom.
:)
Can I marry the boy who plays Mohinder? Is he married already? No, don't tell me. I don't want to know. I want to cling to irrational fantasies of running into him at the Starbucks in Bellmeade. (Hey! It could happen. Kimmy ran into Keith Urban the other day.)
Okay, okay, I know the guy who plays Mohinder isn't a country music singer, and has absolutely no reason to be in Nashville buying overpriced coffee in ritzi neighborhoods. I get that. Burst my bubble, why don't you.
Yes, I'm sick. And it's making me loopy. Not enough oxygen to the brain. Feel free to ignore.
For now I'm posting the next part of the GA series and getting back to the first Heroes fic.
Heroes!
+
Title: Where Fight or Flight Breaks Down
Fandom: GA
Pairing: George/Izzie
Part: 3/?, sequel to Putting Off Inevitable and Too Late For Happily Ever After
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm only responsible for their fictional corruption.
Summary: Six months later, boy have things changed.
A/N: New series at long last. No spoilers so let's call this AU. Thanks to everyone who is gung ho about this. You guys keep me motivated.
+
Basic instincts are hard to resist. Fight or flight, something so ingrained that often enough a body begins before head and heart catch up.
Izzie's inside the house, locking deadbolts and sliding security chains before she can catch her breath, before she can remind herself. She's running from George not Michael Myers. She's not in any sort of real danger.
There's a good chance he won't even follow her.
The cell phone in her purse ringing - makes her jump a mile anyway. Caught. She's caught and so not prepared to deal with the situation.
She looks down at the small illuminated screen and expects to see George's face, a number she hasn't seen in days, weeks, months. She dreads having to make the decision to answer or ignore, to hear his voice or face the message alone. These decisions were so much easier when she had a best friend standing beside her.
A fleeting memory, fading now after all that's come since, flashes through her mind. Denny's voice and George's hand in hers, tears that were just as salty as the ones currently threatening her makeup.
When she screws up the courage to look the caller ID blinks "Mark Sloan," and Izzie's sigh is neither relieved or disappointed.
Click.
"That was some impressive footwork, Stevens. Cross country in high school?" The smirk in his voice is almost enough.
Almost enough to make her smile. "Some of us didn't go to prep school hell, the
only running I ever did was from the principal."
Mark's laugh is amused enough for both of them. "Smoking in the girl's room?"
Izzie's grateful he didn't go for the obvious - and much more accurate cliche of - "making out under the bleachers with the Captain of the football team." Sometimes she forgets that George is the only one who knows that this isn't her first time at the rodeo. "Why are you bugging me Mark, I told you that we-"
"Hold up, Kiddo. That's not why I'm calling. Just wanted you to know that he was heading your way." Mark interrupts her before she can start kicking the dead horse fully.
He's been trying to get her to go out with him for months. Playing nice and giving her the hard sale, complete with chocolates and flowers and decaf Mochochinos. If it wasn't for the baby, if it wasn't for George...
"Don't say I never did anything for you." He orders.
And then she does smile.
Izzie listens to the rest, Mark's brief explanation or what Olivia said, one of the new interns told her, one of the janitors shared with them, a patient saw Callie do to George - but she doesn't really hear anything but the pounding of her own heart.
- - -
When Meredith gets home first Izzie almost goes out the backdoor. She's only stopped by the sound of heals hitting hardwood.
The swish of Izzie's socks sliding back into the foyer catch her friend and roommate off guard, which is why a bag of groceries ends up flying half way across the room.
"Damn, Izzie, what the hell?"
"Sorry, sorry, let me just lock the door back and I'll help you clean that up." Izzie shakes off the look Meredith gives her, that look that she's suddenly acting a lot crazier than normal.
"You can't really think you are going to be able to avoid him?" Meredith asks, bending down to reload french bread and peanut butter, Pop tarts and brown sugar.
It takes Izzie a minute and Meredith's outstretched hand to get to her knees but then she's comfortable enough. A carton of eggs managed to survive the fall, cushioned by an extra large bag of nuts and cocoa.
"Derek says that he expects his own "warm and gooey" pan, tomorrow morning at the latest."
Meredith climbs to her feet and crosses to the living room to deposit the recovered goods on the coffee table.
Izzie just settles further down.
The knock surprises them both.
Knock knock.
Dr. McIntyre says that Izzie needs to stop overindulging in baked goods. He always follows it with an apologetic smile, and a delicate reminder that she has three months to go. She didn't really care if he was right or not until the sound of George's "Izzie? Meredith? Anybody home?" made her feel like a cornered animal.
She's too fat to escape on her own, and Meredith just shakes her head when Izzie starts frantically motioning for help, when she starts pointing toward the only other exit.
"You have to tell him." The turncoat whispers and starts for the door.
"Guys? I see your car. I know you are in there. Please."
When Izzie latches onto her leg, Meredith has to stop. Has to look down and see the blinking eyes and pouty lip, the pathetic image she's creating these days.
"Talk through the doorway." Meredith orders, loud enough for them both to hear. "I'll put up the groceries later."
There is nothing perishable that needs to be put in the refrigerator right away, nothing that can't wait - so Meredith heads upstairs. Leaves them.
To ruin something else.
- - -
"Izzie?"
George's voice is muffled by the thick door between them, and despite herself Izzie scoots closer, liking the way it makes her feel comfort underneath the fear.
"Please say something."
The problem is, and has been since she peed on a stick the week after he disappeared, that she doesn't know what to say.
Um, yeah, George - I'm pregnant. You know, me? The girl you cheated on your wife with, the best friend you didn't want anything more from. Yeah, sorry. All I seem to do is make your life more complicated.
"Are you okay? Just tell me that. Tell me you are okay. Please Izzie."
The problem is - Izzie isn't. Where does she begin?
I'm scared, George. I'm lonely. I want to see you and I don't. Most days this is all I can think about, what you'll say and what you will do. Every once in a while I even think it will work out.
The silence fills up everything, the space in front of her, the porch behind the door her back rests against.
It's something that he doesn't leave. It's something that he waits. Turn about has never, was never, something she thought should be hard on both parties.
There's something I have to tell you.
"It's over Iz."
Izzie catches her breath, and holds it until something starts to burn, until the sound of his head hitting the barrier between them, snaps her out of it.
"Running isn't the answer. I know that now. Callie and I are over, and I want to make this up to you. I - I have to make this up to you. I - I love you Iz."
She wants to laugh but she's crying again.
You have a lot to make up for.
Izzie could say it all, but in the end she says nothing. She just reaches up to unlock the door.
- - -
He sees her, sitting on the bottom step, looking as beautiful as he remembers and twice as sad.
Lovely, and weary, and very very pregnant.
George can't breathe suddenly and this - this - is where fight or flight breaks down. Just seeing her there, still and always, makes neither one an option.
Just knowing what he's done - roots him to the spot.