FIC: Myriad of Shades: PG
Title: Myriad of Shades
Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Owen, Cristina, Alex, George, Izzie, Meredith. Implied Cristina/Owen and Alex/George
Rating: PG
Words: 1615
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Summary: Underneath it all, underneath the shades that we portray, on whichever path we’re currently following, we are a solid colour.
Notes: Written for bonus prompt #24 over at story_lottery. It's my first general fic in the Grey's fandom, though I've drabbled George/Alex. This is just something I felt went with the prompt, and I never can resist my shipper side, but I thought I'd have a bash at doing it this way and involving some individual characters to boot. As for Owen's part in this, it just felt right, and though I'd originally intended for this to just be the original interns, I couldn't help but include him once I'd started. Plus it feels like he's been on the show forever, anyway. I took the prompt of rainbow fairly literally, and definitions of the colour meanings are here, if you want you can figure out what colour I used for each from that. Feedback, comments and criticism are most welcome, as always.
We’re all doctors; healers. We all work towards the same goal - to save lives. We’re all different; blended into the myriad of shades that is life, blurring and melding with each other more often than not, as the paths we take intertwine, intersect, and combine. Sometimes, our shade is defined by what we do, who we are, how we feel: and underneath it all, underneath the shades that we portray, on whichever path we’re currently following, we are a solid colour.
Owen Hunt is a complicated man. He’s seen more bloodshed, more violence; more pain than anyone he knows. It’s made him stronger. Given him that extra strength that he disguises under the aggression that he displays at work; the strength he needs to get through each day. But through everything his life has thrown at him, all the ups and downs, the torment and anguish, he has finally found one thing that holds him steady. Something, someone that stops him from drowning in the ocean of his darkest thoughts, the darkest reality he’s lived. Perhaps it’s because Cristina exudes the same strength as he does that he finds her so appealing. The fact that she’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on helps, but that strength, her strength, keeps him fighting for another day. And underneath that strength there’s a quiet softness that Owen can’t help but fall in to, when he’s lost in the passion and intensity of touch; when he’s held prisoner to the warmth of sensation. Cristina gives him what no-one else ever has, what no-one else ever can. Security.
Yang herself, for all her flaws and failings, would never have thought of herself as soft. She’s determined, assertive, ambitious. After Burke, Cristina vowed to herself, and anyone else who was listening, mostly Meredith, that no-one would ever break her again. She wouldn’t allow it. The control she had over her emotions, over her life was hers and hers alone, and her strength of character allowed her to continue on; cool, calm, seemingly unaffected while underneath it all she was screaming like she would as a child when she had a bad dream, and sought out the comfort of her father’s arms to keep her safe. It was her strength that allowed her, and only her, to determine the relationship she would have with the world. So she threw herself into her work, as only Cristina could, striving always, to be the best she could be; hiding underneath the coldness of a want-take-have attitude, never again allowing anyone to see who she really was. In defiance of her austerity, Owen has undone her. He has wound his way into her life and into her heart; melded himself to her in a way that both overwhelms and exhilarates her. Owen has given her what no-one else ever has, what no-one else ever could. Satisfaction.
Alex is never satisfied. He’s always searching for more, searching for ways to find that satisfaction, to be fulfilled, but it always eludes him. Something always crops up to make him just that much more of an ass to everyone, and nothing in him is strong enough to stop it from happening. He’s always used his powers of persuasion to get what he wants - money, work, women, men - and it hasn’t mattered to him before now. Before George. But George brings out the part of Alex that he’s always wanted to be. George makes him a better man, accepts his creative side, understands his needs and desires. It kills him every day that he’s really just a coward about it all - hiding their relationship or whatever it is that they have, away from everyone else. It’s selfish, it’s cruel, and it’s undeniably the Alex that everyone knows and hates. He wants George to himself, needs to keep George for him and him alone - and by keeping it quiet, by keeping it secret, he saves himself from the hurt he knows will come if their relationship goes public. Because if it goes public now, he’ll be an ass and he’ll be unfixable. He’s not ready for that yet. Not ready for the world to see him as he really is, not ready to show the world that there’s so much more to Alex Karev than meets the eye, and that really, he’s not that much of an ass - he’s a guy who appreciates the people he loves, a guy who loves unconditionally. He’s not ready for the world to see that he loves George. He’s still broken, but he’s on the mend. He’s developing, changing, and it’s because of O’Malley. And he’s scared, but it doesn’t matter: in the end, he’ll be a better man, because of O’Malley. George gives him something no-one else ever has, something no-one else ever can. Clarity.
If there’s anything George isn’t clear about it’s his relationship with Alex. He doesn’t even know if he can call it a relationship, if it falls in the category at all, but the fact that they have something together, what ever it is, makes George happier than he’s ever been. He’s envious of Alex’s ability to be whatever it is he needs to be, whenever he needs it. He’s envious of Alex’s ability to hide behind the façade he has. George isn’t like that, he never has been. He wears his heart on his sleeve more often than not, and it’s been his downfall in the past. It will be his downfall in the future; he has no doubt of that. He doesn’t like keeping secrets from anyone, not from his family, not from Izzie - she’s his best friend and he can’t even tell her that he feels like the luckiest man alive, that he’s in love, and that he’s loved. He can’t tell her that for the first time in a long time, he’s at peace with his life. His career is blossoming, despite the setback of failing his exams, and he feels good. George knows that Alex loves him. He feels it in every caress, in every heated look. He hates the secrets, hates the hiding, but he accepts it, and he does it, because it’s something Alex needs. And Alex is something, someone that George needs. Alex has given him something that no-one else ever has, something that no-one else ever could. Balance.
Izzie is not stupid. She is, in point of fact, quite the opposite. Full of intuition, there’s not a lot about anything that gets past her, and the relationship between George and Alex is something that she most definitely has not missed. It makes sense, in an odd sort of way that she would be the one to notice it, seeing as how she’s had the strange opportunity, if you can call it that, to be in love with both of them at one time or another. There are the small glances and smiles here and there, mostly from George, who can be read like a book if you really want to read him. Then there’s the way the jokes and names from Alex have lost their cruel edge; don’t hold the sharpness the way they used to and now leave his mouth in a tone akin to endearment. She thinks it’s fate that they’ve ended up together: two polar opposites finding a balance and peace with each other that is few and far between for most. In her own life, her own world, she strives for inner peace, and has found that she often discovers it in times of sadness and depression, when she thinks of her time with Denny. She reflects on that, on them, on her and Denny, when she watches Cristina and Hunt, and again, notes how fate has played a particular part in that relationship too. Cristina and Owen are so similar it’s uncanny, but it’s natural; and Izzie finds contentment in the knowledge that fate has played a part in her life too, and even though she didn’t agree with it, she can accept it. Life without Denny is hard, there’s no doubt about that, but when those around her are happy, so is Izzie, and there are plenty of things that she’s got to be happy about with her own life, even though Denny’s not alive anymore. He’s still with her, and she’ll always love him, but there’s always a time to move on. She understands that. So she does it. Izzie is full of intuition, full of knowing and understanding. The only person she can’t quite get a handle on is Meredith.
Meredith Grey is an enigma. Her life is a fit of riddles and uncertainties, tumbling canyons and too-high mountains. Once she’s over one hurdle, there’s another one to tackle, and she accepts that, really she does. She takes it in her stride. Alzheimer’s, a relationship with a married attending, a bomb in a patient’s chest, a near-death-by-drowning experience, an estranged father, death by hiccups; the occurrences are countless. She takes it all in her stride; watches life, under the pretence of relaxation, and it passes by. All she can do is reassure herself that one day, there will be no hurdles.
And when we’re solid, when we’re true to who we are, we’re a rainbow. It’s a promise of old, but it’s not real. A rainbow is distinct, but familiar. A rainbow is safe. The lines don’t blur, the edges don’t fuzz. But rainbows disappear if the light’s too bright, or the dark’s too dark. Disappear when there’s not enough of one thing or when there’s too much of another.
In the end, you can’t help but be a myriad of shades.
Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Owen, Cristina, Alex, George, Izzie, Meredith. Implied Cristina/Owen and Alex/George
Rating: PG
Words: 1615
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Summary: Underneath it all, underneath the shades that we portray, on whichever path we’re currently following, we are a solid colour.
Notes: Written for bonus prompt #24 over at story_lottery. It's my first general fic in the Grey's fandom, though I've drabbled George/Alex. This is just something I felt went with the prompt, and I never can resist my shipper side, but I thought I'd have a bash at doing it this way and involving some individual characters to boot. As for Owen's part in this, it just felt right, and though I'd originally intended for this to just be the original interns, I couldn't help but include him once I'd started. Plus it feels like he's been on the show forever, anyway. I took the prompt of rainbow fairly literally, and definitions of the colour meanings are here, if you want you can figure out what colour I used for each from that. Feedback, comments and criticism are most welcome, as always.
We’re all doctors; healers. We all work towards the same goal - to save lives. We’re all different; blended into the myriad of shades that is life, blurring and melding with each other more often than not, as the paths we take intertwine, intersect, and combine. Sometimes, our shade is defined by what we do, who we are, how we feel: and underneath it all, underneath the shades that we portray, on whichever path we’re currently following, we are a solid colour.
Owen Hunt is a complicated man. He’s seen more bloodshed, more violence; more pain than anyone he knows. It’s made him stronger. Given him that extra strength that he disguises under the aggression that he displays at work; the strength he needs to get through each day. But through everything his life has thrown at him, all the ups and downs, the torment and anguish, he has finally found one thing that holds him steady. Something, someone that stops him from drowning in the ocean of his darkest thoughts, the darkest reality he’s lived. Perhaps it’s because Cristina exudes the same strength as he does that he finds her so appealing. The fact that she’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on helps, but that strength, her strength, keeps him fighting for another day. And underneath that strength there’s a quiet softness that Owen can’t help but fall in to, when he’s lost in the passion and intensity of touch; when he’s held prisoner to the warmth of sensation. Cristina gives him what no-one else ever has, what no-one else ever can. Security.
Yang herself, for all her flaws and failings, would never have thought of herself as soft. She’s determined, assertive, ambitious. After Burke, Cristina vowed to herself, and anyone else who was listening, mostly Meredith, that no-one would ever break her again. She wouldn’t allow it. The control she had over her emotions, over her life was hers and hers alone, and her strength of character allowed her to continue on; cool, calm, seemingly unaffected while underneath it all she was screaming like she would as a child when she had a bad dream, and sought out the comfort of her father’s arms to keep her safe. It was her strength that allowed her, and only her, to determine the relationship she would have with the world. So she threw herself into her work, as only Cristina could, striving always, to be the best she could be; hiding underneath the coldness of a want-take-have attitude, never again allowing anyone to see who she really was. In defiance of her austerity, Owen has undone her. He has wound his way into her life and into her heart; melded himself to her in a way that both overwhelms and exhilarates her. Owen has given her what no-one else ever has, what no-one else ever could. Satisfaction.
Alex is never satisfied. He’s always searching for more, searching for ways to find that satisfaction, to be fulfilled, but it always eludes him. Something always crops up to make him just that much more of an ass to everyone, and nothing in him is strong enough to stop it from happening. He’s always used his powers of persuasion to get what he wants - money, work, women, men - and it hasn’t mattered to him before now. Before George. But George brings out the part of Alex that he’s always wanted to be. George makes him a better man, accepts his creative side, understands his needs and desires. It kills him every day that he’s really just a coward about it all - hiding their relationship or whatever it is that they have, away from everyone else. It’s selfish, it’s cruel, and it’s undeniably the Alex that everyone knows and hates. He wants George to himself, needs to keep George for him and him alone - and by keeping it quiet, by keeping it secret, he saves himself from the hurt he knows will come if their relationship goes public. Because if it goes public now, he’ll be an ass and he’ll be unfixable. He’s not ready for that yet. Not ready for the world to see him as he really is, not ready to show the world that there’s so much more to Alex Karev than meets the eye, and that really, he’s not that much of an ass - he’s a guy who appreciates the people he loves, a guy who loves unconditionally. He’s not ready for the world to see that he loves George. He’s still broken, but he’s on the mend. He’s developing, changing, and it’s because of O’Malley. And he’s scared, but it doesn’t matter: in the end, he’ll be a better man, because of O’Malley. George gives him something no-one else ever has, something no-one else ever can. Clarity.
If there’s anything George isn’t clear about it’s his relationship with Alex. He doesn’t even know if he can call it a relationship, if it falls in the category at all, but the fact that they have something together, what ever it is, makes George happier than he’s ever been. He’s envious of Alex’s ability to be whatever it is he needs to be, whenever he needs it. He’s envious of Alex’s ability to hide behind the façade he has. George isn’t like that, he never has been. He wears his heart on his sleeve more often than not, and it’s been his downfall in the past. It will be his downfall in the future; he has no doubt of that. He doesn’t like keeping secrets from anyone, not from his family, not from Izzie - she’s his best friend and he can’t even tell her that he feels like the luckiest man alive, that he’s in love, and that he’s loved. He can’t tell her that for the first time in a long time, he’s at peace with his life. His career is blossoming, despite the setback of failing his exams, and he feels good. George knows that Alex loves him. He feels it in every caress, in every heated look. He hates the secrets, hates the hiding, but he accepts it, and he does it, because it’s something Alex needs. And Alex is something, someone that George needs. Alex has given him something that no-one else ever has, something that no-one else ever could. Balance.
Izzie is not stupid. She is, in point of fact, quite the opposite. Full of intuition, there’s not a lot about anything that gets past her, and the relationship between George and Alex is something that she most definitely has not missed. It makes sense, in an odd sort of way that she would be the one to notice it, seeing as how she’s had the strange opportunity, if you can call it that, to be in love with both of them at one time or another. There are the small glances and smiles here and there, mostly from George, who can be read like a book if you really want to read him. Then there’s the way the jokes and names from Alex have lost their cruel edge; don’t hold the sharpness the way they used to and now leave his mouth in a tone akin to endearment. She thinks it’s fate that they’ve ended up together: two polar opposites finding a balance and peace with each other that is few and far between for most. In her own life, her own world, she strives for inner peace, and has found that she often discovers it in times of sadness and depression, when she thinks of her time with Denny. She reflects on that, on them, on her and Denny, when she watches Cristina and Hunt, and again, notes how fate has played a particular part in that relationship too. Cristina and Owen are so similar it’s uncanny, but it’s natural; and Izzie finds contentment in the knowledge that fate has played a part in her life too, and even though she didn’t agree with it, she can accept it. Life without Denny is hard, there’s no doubt about that, but when those around her are happy, so is Izzie, and there are plenty of things that she’s got to be happy about with her own life, even though Denny’s not alive anymore. He’s still with her, and she’ll always love him, but there’s always a time to move on. She understands that. So she does it. Izzie is full of intuition, full of knowing and understanding. The only person she can’t quite get a handle on is Meredith.
Meredith Grey is an enigma. Her life is a fit of riddles and uncertainties, tumbling canyons and too-high mountains. Once she’s over one hurdle, there’s another one to tackle, and she accepts that, really she does. She takes it in her stride. Alzheimer’s, a relationship with a married attending, a bomb in a patient’s chest, a near-death-by-drowning experience, an estranged father, death by hiccups; the occurrences are countless. She takes it all in her stride; watches life, under the pretence of relaxation, and it passes by. All she can do is reassure herself that one day, there will be no hurdles.
And when we’re solid, when we’re true to who we are, we’re a rainbow. It’s a promise of old, but it’s not real. A rainbow is distinct, but familiar. A rainbow is safe. The lines don’t blur, the edges don’t fuzz. But rainbows disappear if the light’s too bright, or the dark’s too dark. Disappear when there’s not enough of one thing or when there’s too much of another.
In the end, you can’t help but be a myriad of shades.