(no subject)
George had never really traveled before, outside of family vacations to Grand Canyon or Disneyland and forced camping trips (or, as George liked to think of them, a Beginner's Guide to Hell) with the O'Malley men. Any time he might have had to travel after college was lost in the haze of med school, and then he kissed any free time goodbye once he got his internship at Seattle Grace.
Sure, George dreamed of traveling, and hey, if there was one thing about being stuck on a boring island, it was being able to pretend he was just vacationing in Hawaii.
Except Hawaii didn't have freak snow storms and turn into the magic freaking kingdom of good and light and all things sugar and spice. Literally. His hut looked like it came straight out of Hansel and Gretel and the first morning, George actually checked it to make sure a human sized oven didn't appear, too.
Heading toward the compound in snow wasn't one bit of fun, not even with all the good cheer that seemed to have thrown up all over the island. George thanked whoever or whatever left him a pair of boots and a coat in his hut so he wouldn't freeze to death before he got to the compound, but that did little to cheer him up. Because the compound was horrifying. It was like a million Izzies went on a guerilla decorating campaign overnight, and if every little thing in the compound was going to remind George of Izzie, he was going to turn into Cristina by Christmas.
After grabbing a cup of coffee and a quick breakfast, clothes were George's first priority. He expected ugly Christmas sweaters (which just reminded him of mom) and hoped for a good thick jacket and hat, but really, he shouldn't have been surprised. It looked like a bunch of fabric at first, but when George pulled it out of the clothes box to get a better look inside, it wouldn't stop coming out, until his arms were full and he fighting off a rainbow monstrosity.
He beat the thing, just barely, but as he sat back on his heels and stared at the - well, whatever the hell it was, George realized he had no freaking clue what he was supposed to do with his life without a hospital and family and friends and lives to save.
"I hate my life."
Sure, George dreamed of traveling, and hey, if there was one thing about being stuck on a boring island, it was being able to pretend he was just vacationing in Hawaii.
Except Hawaii didn't have freak snow storms and turn into the magic freaking kingdom of good and light and all things sugar and spice. Literally. His hut looked like it came straight out of Hansel and Gretel and the first morning, George actually checked it to make sure a human sized oven didn't appear, too.
Heading toward the compound in snow wasn't one bit of fun, not even with all the good cheer that seemed to have thrown up all over the island. George thanked whoever or whatever left him a pair of boots and a coat in his hut so he wouldn't freeze to death before he got to the compound, but that did little to cheer him up. Because the compound was horrifying. It was like a million Izzies went on a guerilla decorating campaign overnight, and if every little thing in the compound was going to remind George of Izzie, he was going to turn into Cristina by Christmas.
After grabbing a cup of coffee and a quick breakfast, clothes were George's first priority. He expected ugly Christmas sweaters (which just reminded him of mom) and hoped for a good thick jacket and hat, but really, he shouldn't have been surprised. It looked like a bunch of fabric at first, but when George pulled it out of the clothes box to get a better look inside, it wouldn't stop coming out, until his arms were full and he fighting off a rainbow monstrosity.
He beat the thing, just barely, but as he sat back on his heels and stared at the - well, whatever the hell it was, George realized he had no freaking clue what he was supposed to do with his life without a hospital and family and friends and lives to save.
"I hate my life."