What Do You Hear in These Sounds? 21/?
Author: Carsonfiles
Timeline: Post finale, as I try to reclaim our favorite characters. All of them. Because Shonda replaced them with pod-people starting from around "Desire" on. I hope here they're less OOC.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but if Shonda doesn't quit bending them in ways they weren't meant to bend, I might have to confiscate them.
Summary: Cafeteria conversations, between a couple of people & plans for after work.
Rating: PG-13
Getting Out and Moving On
Meredith stared at Cristina and Alex, willing them to do something, anything to get her out of this situation. Hearing from Callie that her sister (half-sister) was here had been hard. Hearing from Derek that her sister (half-sister) had been the highlight of his week had been harder. Hearing from Mark that he’d kissed her sister (half-sister, dammit, please remember, half-sister) in Joe’s made her feel a little guilty and a lot relieved. But nothing that had happened made her want to turn around and look her sister in the eye. Half-sister. Half-sister.
Cristina’s mouth made meaningless noises for a few moments, until with a grunt she forced something out.
“Page. . .surgery. . .going. Alex? You coming? Don’t you have to meet with the guy about the thing?”
Alex had been looking at Lexie with his flirt on. He started to smile, but then Cristina evidently kicked or jabbed him. He jumped.
“The thing. Right, we’re taking care of that thing for the guy. Have a nice talk, Meredith!” And the two of them were out of the cafeteria before Meredith could shriek “Traitorousfriendswhorunfromhalf-sisters!” But that didn’t mean she couldn’t think it really, really loudly from where she was.
And then she turned around. She remembered how when she had time, she’d use one of those clay masks that were supposed to clean out her pores, a counter-intuitive claim if there had ever been one. And the fun would begin when she was walking around the house with dried mud on her face, and something happened. The phone would ring, or she’d hear something funny on the radio or television. And she'd move her face to laugh or talk. She remembered that she could feel every crack in the mud as she forced her muscles to obey the commands of her central nervous system.
That’s how she felt as she smiled at her sister. Half-sister.
Like she was smiling through dried mud.
She stuck out her hand.
“Hi. You must be Lexie.”
The girl in front of her bobbed her head, smiled and extended her hand to Meredith. Meredith took it, and was struck by its softness. Scrubbing into and out of her share of surgeries this past year had required the sacrifice of a good manicure. Dried skin was status quo, and nails were kept short. Because popping a glove is bad, and you don’t want to do that again. Mrs. Patterson is still alive, and you don’t get that lucky twice. Declaring war on ragged cuticles takes time, and that was something that her sister probably won’t have much of for the next twelve months. Meredith remembered that the last time a relative had touched her, it was Thatcher’s hand making sudden and sharp contact with her face.
And then Meredith realized that she’d been holding on to and shaking her sister’s hand for slightly longer than normal society feels is comfortable and appropriate. Embarrassed, she let go, and rubbed her thumb across her fingers, knowing that the dried cracky skin was earned, she had earned it with her skill and reputation as a surgeon. I am Meredith Grey.
Lexie still stood in front of her with a smile that looked a bit more forced than the one she had worn moments before.
“Um. Well, I’m surprised you’ll speak to me. I mean, I drove the getaway car and everything. But I didn’t know. I should have known, because he was sauced. But I didn’t think, I wasn’t thinking. And I drove him over here, and drove the getaway car. And I know you hate me, because I’d hate me. And I’m not really a hater. And I’m not making a good impression either, am I. Because you’re my sister, and my boss, you’re my boss because you’re a resident. And Mom liked you. She liked you a lot. Crap. Could you say something?”
Meredith smiled. A real smile, one that showed her teeth. Maybe even a grin.
“I was waiting for you to breathe.” And they both smiled, and it wasn’t forced. Almost like they were family. “Have a seat.”
“Really? Gosh, thanks, thank you. Molly said you were nice, she said she felt silly when she didn’t know who you were. But when Mom and Dad went to your house, that night? For dinner? They told her. And they told me, earlier, when I matched here that you worked here. Do you hate me?”
Meredith blinked. So this is what I would be like on speed.
“Lexie. Slow down. I need some. . .breathing room. Just sit. Be. Let me fill you in on some of the tricks of being an intern at Seattle Grace.” Lexie sat in the chair Cristina had just vacated only moments (an eternity) before, and Meredith began to tell her sister about the tunnels, the coffee cart on the second floor and the scarcity of blackberry yogurt in the hospital cafeteria.
George had gotten the clueless group of interns to the cafeteria, but he nearly bolted when he saw Izzie heading for him, looking as intense and determined as she did leveling a cup of flour. Yes, he was her friend. Yes, they’d had sex. But there was no doubt for him that he needed to work on his relationship with Callie (if she would) if for no other reason than he had to look at himself twice a day while he brushed and flossed his teeth. But there were more reasons than that. He’d been stupid, yeah. But for Callie’s sake, because she deserved at least that bottom line of respect from the man she married, he would try. And if she let him (because that was still up in the air) he wasn’t going to do it any half-assed McNightmare way, making goo-goo eyes at the other woman while pretending to try. If Callie would give him a shot, I'll go full out. Romance her.
And those were the thoughts tumbling through as he watched Izzie snake her way through the tables. He considered running, was about to run, when the intern next to him spoke.
“That’s my sister, isn’t it.” He glanced at Lexie, and then back at Meredith, still sitting with Alex and Cristina. Meredith was doing her best impression of The Invisible Man. He had to admit, she was awfully good at it some days.
“If I say yes, are you going to slap her like you dad did? Tell her she’s not wanted?”
Lexie narrowed her eyes at him in that disturbingly familiar way. And George shifted his feet uncomfortably when he recognized the sad expression on her face.
“Sorry. Bad joke. I am an idiot.”
“Do you think she’ll come over to talk to me?” Lexie’s voice was hopeful.
“If you wait for Meredith to begin an uncomfortable conversation, you will grow old and die. Seriously, you’ll be waiting the rest of the five years she has left as a resident.” George sighed, remembering the one time Meredith had chased him around the hospital when he was trying to avoid her. I guess that was the exception to prove the rule.
Lexie nodded, and started walking, squeezing past Izzie through a narrow gap between the tables.
George had missed his chance to bolt. Izzie was standing in front of him, with that look in her eyes.
“Izzie, stop. I need-” While he spoke, she started talking, loudly, and her words bulldozed over his.
“George, no, I can’t. I can’t do this, I’ve thought about it, and I need a break.” And Izzie was blinking her eyes at him, looking everywhere but at him.
“A break?” George blinked back. What did that mean?
“Susan said some things. Maybe they’re true. I don’t think they’re true, I think she’s full of it. But they keep circling my brain.” Izzie’s hands were restless, she kept uncrossing and crossing her arms, then rubbing her hands up and down, from shoulders to elbow.
“Um.” And George really didn’t know what to say to her, except maybe a thank you, thank you for finally backing off of him, even if it was a few days too late.
Izzie shifted her weight from her left to right foot, and then back again. “So, I can’t do this. I can’t, not now. Not with you. Or anyone.”
“Okay.” Because, it was, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it okay for him, wasn’t this what he wanted? Still sucks being on this end, I’m always on this end. Let’s just be friends.
“I’m just confused. I’m confused, George. Please don’t hate me.”
“Izzie?” George wanted to reach out to his friend, but didn’t, fearful that any contact, any touch between the two of them would telegraph a different message than the one he wanted to send. He reached his hand out, but stopped it, and it stayed in mid-air for a few moments before he took it back and put it in the pocket of his jacket.
“George, this is something I have to do.” And he could see that Izzie’s jaw was clenched, could see the tension at the joint. But she still wouldn't look at him.
“Izzie, please shut up for one moment.” The sternness in his voice surprised him. And her too, apparently, because she did look at him then, with the brown eyes that were his problem that night. And she reached up and brushed a tear from her eye with her thumb.
“What is it, George?”
“I’m staying with Callie. If she’ll have me. So we’re both backing off.” It’s out, it’s said, it’s done. We agree.
“Oh.” Izzie nodded at him, smiled a shy smile.
“So, maybe after our break. . .friends?” Now he reached out his hand again, reached it out and took hers. And they shook on it.
Meredith closed her eyes and leaned her head against her new locker. She pulled back, and leaned forward again. It wasn’t so much pounding her head, more like a gentle thudding her head. Again. And again. Thud. Thud. She’d been stuck in post-op forever, with that child’s mother. And she knew that the mom was just being a mom, worrying about her child, but still. Thud. Thud.
This locker room was the same in size and layout as the one the interns shared, but this one was shared by all residents out of their intern year. Attrition, failures, dropouts and transfers made the numbers work out about right. She heard someone walk up behind her.
“You know, Grey, most people enjoy the drinking more than the hangover.”
“Go away, Alex.” She had finally gotten changed out of scrubs and into her civvies, but she didn’t have enough. . .whatever. . .to force her limbs to move.
“You’re going to have a headache like you’re hungover, but without the fun. Let’s go across the street.” Across the street meant Joe’s, and Joe’s meant. . .tequila.
“Alex, I don’t have the energy.” Meredith shook her head, then thudded it (gently) one more time.
“C’mon, Meredith. Besides, you have to. I drove this morning, remember?” Alex jingled his keys behind her right ear.
She quit hitting her head, and rolled it along the lockers so that she was facing Alex. “What, you mean you’re kidnapping me?”
“Kidnapping you, kidnapping Stevens. I’m a one-man crime spree.” Alex grinned. At least half of his face did, in the smirk that reminded Meredith of the brother she never had.
“Really, now. What’s the ransom? Because if it’s muffins, you just need Izzie. In fact, no matter what it is, Izzie’s who you want.”
“We’re going to toast today’s successes and drown our sorrows.”
“I am so in!” Izzie slammed her locker shut. “We so totally deserve this. Go us!”
Meredith and Alex exchanged confused glances at the return of Perky Izzie, when they had just seen Catatonic Izzie earlier in the day.
“Sure, Alex.” Meredith relented, knowing that she would feel good relaxing with friends after tiptoeing through a minefield of a day in which every chance encounter had been a chance for an emotional explosion. And Joe’s should be fairly calm on a Sunday evening, right? She gave Alex a head tilt, and the three of them went over to the Emerald City Bar.
1: I don't go to therapy to find out if I'm a freak
2: I go and I find the one and only answer every week
3: And it's just me and all the memories to follow
4: Down any course that fits within a fifty-minute hour
5: And we fathom all the mysteries, explicit and inherent
6: When I hit a rut, she says to try the other parent
7: And she's so kind, I think she wants to tell me something
8: But she knows that its much better if I get it for myself.
9: Oooooooh, aaaaaaah, what do you hear in these sounds?
10: I say I hear a doubt and a voice of true believing.
11: And the promises to stay, and the footsteps that are leaving.
12: And she says 'Oh', I say 'What?' She says 'Exactly,'
13: I say, ‘What, you think I’m angry?
14: 'Does that mean you think I'm angry?'
15: She says, 'Look, you come here every week
16: With jigsaw pieces of your past
17: It's all on little sound bites
18: And voices out of photographs
19: And that's all yours, that's the guide, that's the map
20: So tell me, where does the arrow point to?
Timeline: Post finale, as I try to reclaim our favorite characters. All of them. Because Shonda replaced them with pod-people starting from around "Desire" on. I hope here they're less OOC.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but if Shonda doesn't quit bending them in ways they weren't meant to bend, I might have to confiscate them.
Summary: Cafeteria conversations, between a couple of people & plans for after work.
Rating: PG-13
Getting Out and Moving On
Meredith stared at Cristina and Alex, willing them to do something, anything to get her out of this situation. Hearing from Callie that her sister (half-sister) was here had been hard. Hearing from Derek that her sister (half-sister) had been the highlight of his week had been harder. Hearing from Mark that he’d kissed her sister (half-sister, dammit, please remember, half-sister) in Joe’s made her feel a little guilty and a lot relieved. But nothing that had happened made her want to turn around and look her sister in the eye. Half-sister. Half-sister.
Cristina’s mouth made meaningless noises for a few moments, until with a grunt she forced something out.
“Page. . .surgery. . .going. Alex? You coming? Don’t you have to meet with the guy about the thing?”
Alex had been looking at Lexie with his flirt on. He started to smile, but then Cristina evidently kicked or jabbed him. He jumped.
“The thing. Right, we’re taking care of that thing for the guy. Have a nice talk, Meredith!” And the two of them were out of the cafeteria before Meredith could shriek “Traitorousfriendswhorunfromhalf-sisters!” But that didn’t mean she couldn’t think it really, really loudly from where she was.
And then she turned around. She remembered how when she had time, she’d use one of those clay masks that were supposed to clean out her pores, a counter-intuitive claim if there had ever been one. And the fun would begin when she was walking around the house with dried mud on her face, and something happened. The phone would ring, or she’d hear something funny on the radio or television. And she'd move her face to laugh or talk. She remembered that she could feel every crack in the mud as she forced her muscles to obey the commands of her central nervous system.
That’s how she felt as she smiled at her sister. Half-sister.
Like she was smiling through dried mud.
She stuck out her hand.
“Hi. You must be Lexie.”
The girl in front of her bobbed her head, smiled and extended her hand to Meredith. Meredith took it, and was struck by its softness. Scrubbing into and out of her share of surgeries this past year had required the sacrifice of a good manicure. Dried skin was status quo, and nails were kept short. Because popping a glove is bad, and you don’t want to do that again. Mrs. Patterson is still alive, and you don’t get that lucky twice. Declaring war on ragged cuticles takes time, and that was something that her sister probably won’t have much of for the next twelve months. Meredith remembered that the last time a relative had touched her, it was Thatcher’s hand making sudden and sharp contact with her face.
And then Meredith realized that she’d been holding on to and shaking her sister’s hand for slightly longer than normal society feels is comfortable and appropriate. Embarrassed, she let go, and rubbed her thumb across her fingers, knowing that the dried cracky skin was earned, she had earned it with her skill and reputation as a surgeon. I am Meredith Grey.
Lexie still stood in front of her with a smile that looked a bit more forced than the one she had worn moments before.
“Um. Well, I’m surprised you’ll speak to me. I mean, I drove the getaway car and everything. But I didn’t know. I should have known, because he was sauced. But I didn’t think, I wasn’t thinking. And I drove him over here, and drove the getaway car. And I know you hate me, because I’d hate me. And I’m not really a hater. And I’m not making a good impression either, am I. Because you’re my sister, and my boss, you’re my boss because you’re a resident. And Mom liked you. She liked you a lot. Crap. Could you say something?”
Meredith smiled. A real smile, one that showed her teeth. Maybe even a grin.
“I was waiting for you to breathe.” And they both smiled, and it wasn’t forced. Almost like they were family. “Have a seat.”
“Really? Gosh, thanks, thank you. Molly said you were nice, she said she felt silly when she didn’t know who you were. But when Mom and Dad went to your house, that night? For dinner? They told her. And they told me, earlier, when I matched here that you worked here. Do you hate me?”
Meredith blinked. So this is what I would be like on speed.
“Lexie. Slow down. I need some. . .breathing room. Just sit. Be. Let me fill you in on some of the tricks of being an intern at Seattle Grace.” Lexie sat in the chair Cristina had just vacated only moments (an eternity) before, and Meredith began to tell her sister about the tunnels, the coffee cart on the second floor and the scarcity of blackberry yogurt in the hospital cafeteria.
George had gotten the clueless group of interns to the cafeteria, but he nearly bolted when he saw Izzie heading for him, looking as intense and determined as she did leveling a cup of flour. Yes, he was her friend. Yes, they’d had sex. But there was no doubt for him that he needed to work on his relationship with Callie (if she would) if for no other reason than he had to look at himself twice a day while he brushed and flossed his teeth. But there were more reasons than that. He’d been stupid, yeah. But for Callie’s sake, because she deserved at least that bottom line of respect from the man she married, he would try. And if she let him (because that was still up in the air) he wasn’t going to do it any half-assed McNightmare way, making goo-goo eyes at the other woman while pretending to try. If Callie would give him a shot, I'll go full out. Romance her.
And those were the thoughts tumbling through as he watched Izzie snake her way through the tables. He considered running, was about to run, when the intern next to him spoke.
“That’s my sister, isn’t it.” He glanced at Lexie, and then back at Meredith, still sitting with Alex and Cristina. Meredith was doing her best impression of The Invisible Man. He had to admit, she was awfully good at it some days.
“If I say yes, are you going to slap her like you dad did? Tell her she’s not wanted?”
Lexie narrowed her eyes at him in that disturbingly familiar way. And George shifted his feet uncomfortably when he recognized the sad expression on her face.
“Sorry. Bad joke. I am an idiot.”
“Do you think she’ll come over to talk to me?” Lexie’s voice was hopeful.
“If you wait for Meredith to begin an uncomfortable conversation, you will grow old and die. Seriously, you’ll be waiting the rest of the five years she has left as a resident.” George sighed, remembering the one time Meredith had chased him around the hospital when he was trying to avoid her. I guess that was the exception to prove the rule.
Lexie nodded, and started walking, squeezing past Izzie through a narrow gap between the tables.
George had missed his chance to bolt. Izzie was standing in front of him, with that look in her eyes.
“Izzie, stop. I need-” While he spoke, she started talking, loudly, and her words bulldozed over his.
“George, no, I can’t. I can’t do this, I’ve thought about it, and I need a break.” And Izzie was blinking her eyes at him, looking everywhere but at him.
“A break?” George blinked back. What did that mean?
“Susan said some things. Maybe they’re true. I don’t think they’re true, I think she’s full of it. But they keep circling my brain.” Izzie’s hands were restless, she kept uncrossing and crossing her arms, then rubbing her hands up and down, from shoulders to elbow.
“Um.” And George really didn’t know what to say to her, except maybe a thank you, thank you for finally backing off of him, even if it was a few days too late.
Izzie shifted her weight from her left to right foot, and then back again. “So, I can’t do this. I can’t, not now. Not with you. Or anyone.”
“Okay.” Because, it was, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it okay for him, wasn’t this what he wanted? Still sucks being on this end, I’m always on this end. Let’s just be friends.
“I’m just confused. I’m confused, George. Please don’t hate me.”
“Izzie?” George wanted to reach out to his friend, but didn’t, fearful that any contact, any touch between the two of them would telegraph a different message than the one he wanted to send. He reached his hand out, but stopped it, and it stayed in mid-air for a few moments before he took it back and put it in the pocket of his jacket.
“George, this is something I have to do.” And he could see that Izzie’s jaw was clenched, could see the tension at the joint. But she still wouldn't look at him.
“Izzie, please shut up for one moment.” The sternness in his voice surprised him. And her too, apparently, because she did look at him then, with the brown eyes that were his problem that night. And she reached up and brushed a tear from her eye with her thumb.
“What is it, George?”
“I’m staying with Callie. If she’ll have me. So we’re both backing off.” It’s out, it’s said, it’s done. We agree.
“Oh.” Izzie nodded at him, smiled a shy smile.
“So, maybe after our break. . .friends?” Now he reached out his hand again, reached it out and took hers. And they shook on it.
Meredith closed her eyes and leaned her head against her new locker. She pulled back, and leaned forward again. It wasn’t so much pounding her head, more like a gentle thudding her head. Again. And again. Thud. Thud. She’d been stuck in post-op forever, with that child’s mother. And she knew that the mom was just being a mom, worrying about her child, but still. Thud. Thud.
This locker room was the same in size and layout as the one the interns shared, but this one was shared by all residents out of their intern year. Attrition, failures, dropouts and transfers made the numbers work out about right. She heard someone walk up behind her.
“You know, Grey, most people enjoy the drinking more than the hangover.”
“Go away, Alex.” She had finally gotten changed out of scrubs and into her civvies, but she didn’t have enough. . .whatever. . .to force her limbs to move.
“You’re going to have a headache like you’re hungover, but without the fun. Let’s go across the street.” Across the street meant Joe’s, and Joe’s meant. . .tequila.
“Alex, I don’t have the energy.” Meredith shook her head, then thudded it (gently) one more time.
“C’mon, Meredith. Besides, you have to. I drove this morning, remember?” Alex jingled his keys behind her right ear.
She quit hitting her head, and rolled it along the lockers so that she was facing Alex. “What, you mean you’re kidnapping me?”
“Kidnapping you, kidnapping Stevens. I’m a one-man crime spree.” Alex grinned. At least half of his face did, in the smirk that reminded Meredith of the brother she never had.
“Really, now. What’s the ransom? Because if it’s muffins, you just need Izzie. In fact, no matter what it is, Izzie’s who you want.”
“We’re going to toast today’s successes and drown our sorrows.”
“I am so in!” Izzie slammed her locker shut. “We so totally deserve this. Go us!”
Meredith and Alex exchanged confused glances at the return of Perky Izzie, when they had just seen Catatonic Izzie earlier in the day.
“Sure, Alex.” Meredith relented, knowing that she would feel good relaxing with friends after tiptoeing through a minefield of a day in which every chance encounter had been a chance for an emotional explosion. And Joe’s should be fairly calm on a Sunday evening, right? She gave Alex a head tilt, and the three of them went over to the Emerald City Bar.
1: I don't go to therapy to find out if I'm a freak
2: I go and I find the one and only answer every week
3: And it's just me and all the memories to follow
4: Down any course that fits within a fifty-minute hour
5: And we fathom all the mysteries, explicit and inherent
6: When I hit a rut, she says to try the other parent
7: And she's so kind, I think she wants to tell me something
8: But she knows that its much better if I get it for myself.
9: Oooooooh, aaaaaaah, what do you hear in these sounds?
10: I say I hear a doubt and a voice of true believing.
11: And the promises to stay, and the footsteps that are leaving.
12: And she says 'Oh', I say 'What?' She says 'Exactly,'
13: I say, ‘What, you think I’m angry?
14: 'Does that mean you think I'm angry?'
15: She says, 'Look, you come here every week
16: With jigsaw pieces of your past
17: It's all on little sound bites
18: And voices out of photographs
19: And that's all yours, that's the guide, that's the map
20: So tell me, where does the arrow point to?