(no subject)
Title: Seeing isn't believing
Fandom: Supernatural/Grey's Anatomy
Pairing: John Winchester/Izzie Stevens
Rating: G
Spoilers: Grey's/SPN Season Finale
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Izzie visits John in the hospital, told through their own perspectives.
Note: I was dying for a Izzie/John crossover fic but there are only so few out there that I decided to write one of my own. Like I said, I was dying for one. My first fic ever so DON'T go easy on me. ;)
You know you shouldn't be here but hell if you were ever one to follow orders. He was still unconscious and you weren't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Bad because he still isn't awake, good because...what would you say if he was? You know he's not Denny, you're not stupid. When people die they don't come back, no matter how much you want them to or need them to it's the way things are and you know this too. You work in a hospital.
But Denny never mentioned a twin brother and you don't know what to make of this. George would only tell you that he came on his own--bleeding, barely walking and whispered "car accident, my fault", before he collapsed. You read his chart:
Name: John Winchester
Age: 54
Injury: Head Trauma
Scheduled for MRI
A feeling of overwhelming relief comes over you and you place your hand over his heart. You try to hold back the burning feeling of tears pounding from the back of your skull into your sockets but you know you were never good at that. You lean your head in closer and gently press it on his chest. You can hear his heart thumps in your ear and you can't recall a time of more peace and pain at the same time. You run your fingers through his and lock them with your hands and you notice there's dried blood on his knuckles. They're big and strong hands but they look like they've had enough. You wonder what he does...
You move your thumb over a small cut on his bottom lip and you can feel the rough texture of chapped skin. He lets out a low, deep grunt and you surprise yourself by not moving. You don't know if you should let yourself breathe, you're afraid he might open his eyes and look at you the same way Denny did--through you, and your still working on yourself. You remove your thumb and press your lips against his, feeling the rough skin pulling you in deeper. "My dress was pink," you whisper. You don't look back as you close the door behind you.
***
"So how am I doing doc? Can I get out of here soon?" "As much as I'd love for that to happen Mr. Winchester, we still need to get you to an MRI to see if there is any damage to your brain. In the meantime, you mind telling me what exactly happened?", doctor Bailey asks putting down the chart. You fix your eyes on your hands, going over the ripped skin on your knuckles before you answer her question, before you have to lie again. "Small car accident, like I said, it was my fault." "Uh huh, and where is the other man?" Her eyebrows raised, determined.
"Nothing happened to him. He's alright." There's a small pause and she's still looking at you, but you can't make it out this time. After almost 20 years of hunting the demon that killed your wife, 20 years on the road, you've met a lot of people. You've read their faces, studied them, talked with them, helped them. Now you're the one who needs the help, who's being studied, who's weak and you feel it eating away at you faster from the inside than when you were possessed. "You look so much like him", she finally says.
There's a short pause. "Like who?", you ask. Not really curious, just confused and anything to get off the subject of the "accident". "Long story Mr. Winchester, and I don't feel like telling stories," she says with piercing eyes. "I already scheduled an MRI for you today, you should get some rest", she says walking out.
You're sitting in a hospital bed, being treated like some sick old bastard who doesn't understand all the looks and glances at him, curiosity in the atmosphere, you don't know how to rest. All you wanna do is pick up the phone and call one of the boys and tell 'em where you are. You know they're worried and they haven't seen you in a while and Dean's been leaving you messages again. But that would just be clumsy of you.
Killing this demon comes before you, before everything and you've said these words to yourself so many times and thought them out in your head they've lost it's purpose, it's signifigance. And if it were to get the boys again--God, Dean. You remember his face, begging you to not let the damn thing inside you kill him...but you were too weak. You remember it so well and you can't get his words out of your head and you're afraid to say them out loud like they won't be yours anymore. An unfamiliar scent washes over you suddenly, a woman's, and for a few seconds it reminds you of Mary.
Fandom: Supernatural/Grey's Anatomy
Pairing: John Winchester/Izzie Stevens
Rating: G
Spoilers: Grey's/SPN Season Finale
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Izzie visits John in the hospital, told through their own perspectives.
Note: I was dying for a Izzie/John crossover fic but there are only so few out there that I decided to write one of my own. Like I said, I was dying for one. My first fic ever so DON'T go easy on me. ;)
You know you shouldn't be here but hell if you were ever one to follow orders. He was still unconscious and you weren't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Bad because he still isn't awake, good because...what would you say if he was? You know he's not Denny, you're not stupid. When people die they don't come back, no matter how much you want them to or need them to it's the way things are and you know this too. You work in a hospital.
But Denny never mentioned a twin brother and you don't know what to make of this. George would only tell you that he came on his own--bleeding, barely walking and whispered "car accident, my fault", before he collapsed. You read his chart:
Name: John Winchester
Age: 54
Injury: Head Trauma
Scheduled for MRI
A feeling of overwhelming relief comes over you and you place your hand over his heart. You try to hold back the burning feeling of tears pounding from the back of your skull into your sockets but you know you were never good at that. You lean your head in closer and gently press it on his chest. You can hear his heart thumps in your ear and you can't recall a time of more peace and pain at the same time. You run your fingers through his and lock them with your hands and you notice there's dried blood on his knuckles. They're big and strong hands but they look like they've had enough. You wonder what he does...
You move your thumb over a small cut on his bottom lip and you can feel the rough texture of chapped skin. He lets out a low, deep grunt and you surprise yourself by not moving. You don't know if you should let yourself breathe, you're afraid he might open his eyes and look at you the same way Denny did--through you, and your still working on yourself. You remove your thumb and press your lips against his, feeling the rough skin pulling you in deeper. "My dress was pink," you whisper. You don't look back as you close the door behind you.
***
"So how am I doing doc? Can I get out of here soon?" "As much as I'd love for that to happen Mr. Winchester, we still need to get you to an MRI to see if there is any damage to your brain. In the meantime, you mind telling me what exactly happened?", doctor Bailey asks putting down the chart. You fix your eyes on your hands, going over the ripped skin on your knuckles before you answer her question, before you have to lie again. "Small car accident, like I said, it was my fault." "Uh huh, and where is the other man?" Her eyebrows raised, determined.
"Nothing happened to him. He's alright." There's a small pause and she's still looking at you, but you can't make it out this time. After almost 20 years of hunting the demon that killed your wife, 20 years on the road, you've met a lot of people. You've read their faces, studied them, talked with them, helped them. Now you're the one who needs the help, who's being studied, who's weak and you feel it eating away at you faster from the inside than when you were possessed. "You look so much like him", she finally says.
There's a short pause. "Like who?", you ask. Not really curious, just confused and anything to get off the subject of the "accident". "Long story Mr. Winchester, and I don't feel like telling stories," she says with piercing eyes. "I already scheduled an MRI for you today, you should get some rest", she says walking out.
You're sitting in a hospital bed, being treated like some sick old bastard who doesn't understand all the looks and glances at him, curiosity in the atmosphere, you don't know how to rest. All you wanna do is pick up the phone and call one of the boys and tell 'em where you are. You know they're worried and they haven't seen you in a while and Dean's been leaving you messages again. But that would just be clumsy of you.
Killing this demon comes before you, before everything and you've said these words to yourself so many times and thought them out in your head they've lost it's purpose, it's signifigance. And if it were to get the boys again--God, Dean. You remember his face, begging you to not let the damn thing inside you kill him...but you were too weak. You remember it so well and you can't get his words out of your head and you're afraid to say them out loud like they won't be yours anymore. An unfamiliar scent washes over you suddenly, a woman's, and for a few seconds it reminds you of Mary.