A break up fic!
So three years after requesting a beta and doing edits (Thanks 100 million times to 
swordpoker) its finished! Any glaring issues are of my own making and not the fault of the fabulous beta.
Title: It's Fair to Say That We tried
Author: anglwitscbdwngs
Rating: PG-13 for language
Spoilers: Kind of Losing My Religion
Summary: This is a George/Alex piece inspired by the song "I'll Die" by Floetry off the Flo'ology album.
A/N: Italicized stanzas are lyrics from the song. Some lyrics are transcribed by me. Others were found here.
A/N 2: Warning this is a break up fic! Not b/c they don't belong together (they totally do.) Just a plot bunny. Funny b/c I'm not the biggest fan of break up fics myself. But, where the muse leads--I follow. ^_^
If I stay right here I'll die inside
When now the tears, I can barely even cry
Its fair to say that we tried
You know I want to stay, if I do, I'll die...
~~Floetry, "I'll Die" (Flo'Ology)
****************************************
In your arms I decide,
This is our last night,
Goodbye.
If you asked anyone now, after it all, they would tell you that they had known it wouldn't last. Despite the goofy grins that spread across faces in the halls, no one had expected it to *really* work.
George O'Malley left Alex Karev's apartment (which for the last three months had been Alex-n-George's apartment) on a Saturday morning. Rain poured down on all the boxes being loaded into the back of Preston Burke's car and George told himself that it always rained in Seattle. The weather was not a sign.
Alex, who was on call at the hospital, missed the moving. He came home to his and George's apartment; finding it only his once more. The half burnt-cookie smell that always accompanied George's days off was unsurprisingly absent. He walked into the bedroom, reminding himself it was no longer *theirs* and slowly lowered himself to the center of the bed.
His clothes seemed to chafe against his skin, the air in the room too hot to bear in so many layers. But he didn't stand again. He didn't move and barely breathed. His fingers twitched, tangling up in sheets as he watched the night hours slip away from the rising sun. His alarm clock shrilled. He turned over, face down in a mass of pillows, something like regret wafting up from the fibers.
---------------------------------------
Coulda been another one of those,
Coulda made it,
Shoulda made it,
Woulda made it.
Preston ordered George to move out after he found the intern weeping in a darkened on-call room for the third time. He'd told her one night, arms tugging her deep into an embrace, peppering her skin with "I love you's" that O'Malley should move back, asking “Could he please, baby?"
Cristina had punched him not playfully in the arm. The next day Meredith, pulling a red faced Izzie behind her, approached George. The three of them whispered angrily in stairwells and on-call rooms for two days. Saturday Preston gave George the keys to his car. O'Malley was reinstalled at the Grey House before the end of the night.
Cristina hated watching Karev and George fall apart. First, relationship drama always threw off the team's effectiveness. Bailey would start assigning crappy duties to punish them for troubling her with their romantic issues. Then patients would become irritated with their lack of focus. And then, if it got too bad, if one of them wasn't careful enough, someone would wind up d.e.a.d.
Second, she always got called. Before, she would have been the last one anyone thought to call. Now it seemed her phone was always ringing. When would people realize that she was barely keeping her own relationship together, that she couldn't waste time trying to save or not save another? Third, that Karev and George-- who were different like she and Burke were different --couldn't make it, scared her shitless.
----------------------------------------
I’m my destiny,
Must invest in me.
Or I’m just gonna be,
Victim of circumstance.
Izzie wanted to be happy that they were over. She remembered hating George hard weeks after she had found out, walking into the wrong on call room at the wrong time. She baked all of George's favorite pastries, handing them out at the hospital to everyone BUT The Asshole and That Lying Bastard. She also remembered the way Denny had looked at her thirteen millionth rant. How unimportant all of the fighting seemed when George was standing watch for her in that small box of a room.
She'd finally given up on the hate, draped in Alex's arms after...knowing that just because his embrace no longer had sexual feelings attached didn't mean he no longer. She wanted to be happy that it was over. But she had seen the look in Alex's eyes Saturday as his shift ended.
Not for the first time, Meredith wished she had never slept with George. *Not* because she was afraid that this was all her fault. Obviously George wasn't with Alex Karev as a rebound from their one night together. Things had ended ugly but not enough to turn George gay. She was a twenty-something-new-age-metropolitan-woman; she didn't believe in people 'turning gay'. This was not her fault. If George's non-rebound experimentation ended with him crushed, sniffling into a bare mattress amidst the piles of boxes, she sympathized for him (damn it, she had even given him his room back!) but this wasn't, absolutely wasn't, her fault. She stayed away from George his first couple of days back though,wanting to--give him his space.
---------------------------------------
No more wasting time,
This process is mine,
In Your eyes,
My reflection is blind,
Derek Shepherd wasn't sure, but something seemed up between O'Malley, the guy who used to live with Meredith, and Karev, the one Addison didn’t like very much.
Addison noticed a change between some of the surgery interns. A stifling tension radiate from any space they entered. It had something to do with George, who was a really nice kid, and Alex, who excluding the whole betrayed her trust and therefore got her sued thing, she really kind of liked. She knew something had been going on between the two of them for at least two months now. It seemed as though now everyone had sex in the on-call rooms now. But whatever the two of them were doing, she knew it was over. She knew the moment Alex had walked into work Saturday morning. She remembered the look on his face from her mirror not a year before.
Bailey really hated when they brought their problems into work, because their work was important work, “People will DIE if you aren’t paying attention” type work. However, she still tried to keep from having to page O'Malley in on Saturday, despite the ER influx that came with late summer Saturday night drunkenness. She knew that O'Malley wouldn't be close to the frame of mind needed to work. Plus he had helped her birth her son. So it wasn't so much favoritism as returning a favor paid.
The Chief decided he was going to pretend like he had no idea was going on about a week after he found out that two of his male interns had started sleeping together. It meant that Karev wasn't out contracting and spreading diseases and that George no longer looked like a sad kitten. Except now O'Malley walked by avoiding his eyes, face constantly moist.
-----------------------------------
What’s the use of living here,
If I don’t feel alive?
Denied mistakes,
So much I’ve done.
So much to cry.
I cry.
It was funny in a way. When they had started everything George hadn't expected to last past Alex's next orgasm. It wasn't until he had moved in that long term thoughts had crept their way into his dreams. He'd learned as an undergrad that it was easier if you could move yourself with five boxes or less-damn housing crunches and shitty, homophobic roommates. But weeks after he'd moved into Alex's apartment, he'd started wanting to make it theirs. Now he had dozens of boxes of crap that he wouldn't couldn't use stacked in the lonely little room that would never be his in the same way again.
It stopped being about the sex for Alex two weeks after Bambi had moved in. George had bought a rooster shaped alarm clock for their bedroom. When his first impulse was to laugh and not smash the ugly thing Alex had known. George still thought it was about the sex for him. The entire time: three months and seven days since he had moved in; and five months and fifteen days after the first time Alex had kissed him in a silent stairwell-- George had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.
That kind of pressure weighed heavy on a person and Alex had learned with deal with pressure in certain ways in his life. Apparently all of those ways hurt George. Alex called in sick on Sunday for the first time since he could remember. He didn’t really wake up, so much as roll himself off the bed and into the shower. His plan was simple: he would go for a run (no where near the Grey house, he promised himself) and he would just keep running until it stopped hurting.
George hadn’t been able to say it was over to his face. He didn’t believe in himself enough to go through with it. So he had left a message on Alex’s cell Saturday morning, knowing the work-obsessed intern wouldn’t check it until lunch. The message was simple, if jumbled-he had a hard enough time talking to Alex every day-just a couple of sentences, dripping with a sadness that caused moisture to form in Alex’s eyes the first thirty times he listened.
“Well, I mean we both know that…”
“…”
“Dammit!”
--George sighs into the phone.-
“At least we tried.”
“I’ll miss--”
“…”
“Goodbye.”
~Finis~
swordpoker) its finished! Any glaring issues are of my own making and not the fault of the fabulous beta.
Title: It's Fair to Say That We tried
Author: anglwitscbdwngs
Rating: PG-13 for language
Spoilers: Kind of Losing My Religion
Summary: This is a George/Alex piece inspired by the song "I'll Die" by Floetry off the Flo'ology album.
A/N: Italicized stanzas are lyrics from the song. Some lyrics are transcribed by me. Others were found here.
A/N 2: Warning this is a break up fic! Not b/c they don't belong together (they totally do.) Just a plot bunny. Funny b/c I'm not the biggest fan of break up fics myself. But, where the muse leads--I follow. ^_^
If I stay right here I'll die inside
When now the tears, I can barely even cry
Its fair to say that we tried
You know I want to stay, if I do, I'll die...
~~Floetry, "I'll Die" (Flo'Ology)
****************************************
In your arms I decide,
This is our last night,
Goodbye.
If you asked anyone now, after it all, they would tell you that they had known it wouldn't last. Despite the goofy grins that spread across faces in the halls, no one had expected it to *really* work.
George O'Malley left Alex Karev's apartment (which for the last three months had been Alex-n-George's apartment) on a Saturday morning. Rain poured down on all the boxes being loaded into the back of Preston Burke's car and George told himself that it always rained in Seattle. The weather was not a sign.
Alex, who was on call at the hospital, missed the moving. He came home to his and George's apartment; finding it only his once more. The half burnt-cookie smell that always accompanied George's days off was unsurprisingly absent. He walked into the bedroom, reminding himself it was no longer *theirs* and slowly lowered himself to the center of the bed.
His clothes seemed to chafe against his skin, the air in the room too hot to bear in so many layers. But he didn't stand again. He didn't move and barely breathed. His fingers twitched, tangling up in sheets as he watched the night hours slip away from the rising sun. His alarm clock shrilled. He turned over, face down in a mass of pillows, something like regret wafting up from the fibers.
---------------------------------------
Coulda been another one of those,
Coulda made it,
Shoulda made it,
Woulda made it.
Preston ordered George to move out after he found the intern weeping in a darkened on-call room for the third time. He'd told her one night, arms tugging her deep into an embrace, peppering her skin with "I love you's" that O'Malley should move back, asking “Could he please, baby?"
Cristina had punched him not playfully in the arm. The next day Meredith, pulling a red faced Izzie behind her, approached George. The three of them whispered angrily in stairwells and on-call rooms for two days. Saturday Preston gave George the keys to his car. O'Malley was reinstalled at the Grey House before the end of the night.
Cristina hated watching Karev and George fall apart. First, relationship drama always threw off the team's effectiveness. Bailey would start assigning crappy duties to punish them for troubling her with their romantic issues. Then patients would become irritated with their lack of focus. And then, if it got too bad, if one of them wasn't careful enough, someone would wind up d.e.a.d.
Second, she always got called. Before, she would have been the last one anyone thought to call. Now it seemed her phone was always ringing. When would people realize that she was barely keeping her own relationship together, that she couldn't waste time trying to save or not save another? Third, that Karev and George-- who were different like she and Burke were different --couldn't make it, scared her shitless.
----------------------------------------
I’m my destiny,
Must invest in me.
Or I’m just gonna be,
Victim of circumstance.
Izzie wanted to be happy that they were over. She remembered hating George hard weeks after she had found out, walking into the wrong on call room at the wrong time. She baked all of George's favorite pastries, handing them out at the hospital to everyone BUT The Asshole and That Lying Bastard. She also remembered the way Denny had looked at her thirteen millionth rant. How unimportant all of the fighting seemed when George was standing watch for her in that small box of a room.
She'd finally given up on the hate, draped in Alex's arms after...knowing that just because his embrace no longer had sexual feelings attached didn't mean he no longer. She wanted to be happy that it was over. But she had seen the look in Alex's eyes Saturday as his shift ended.
Not for the first time, Meredith wished she had never slept with George. *Not* because she was afraid that this was all her fault. Obviously George wasn't with Alex Karev as a rebound from their one night together. Things had ended ugly but not enough to turn George gay. She was a twenty-something-new-age-metropolitan-woman; she didn't believe in people 'turning gay'. This was not her fault. If George's non-rebound experimentation ended with him crushed, sniffling into a bare mattress amidst the piles of boxes, she sympathized for him (damn it, she had even given him his room back!) but this wasn't, absolutely wasn't, her fault. She stayed away from George his first couple of days back though,wanting to--give him his space.
---------------------------------------
No more wasting time,
This process is mine,
In Your eyes,
My reflection is blind,
Derek Shepherd wasn't sure, but something seemed up between O'Malley, the guy who used to live with Meredith, and Karev, the one Addison didn’t like very much.
Addison noticed a change between some of the surgery interns. A stifling tension radiate from any space they entered. It had something to do with George, who was a really nice kid, and Alex, who excluding the whole betrayed her trust and therefore got her sued thing, she really kind of liked. She knew something had been going on between the two of them for at least two months now. It seemed as though now everyone had sex in the on-call rooms now. But whatever the two of them were doing, she knew it was over. She knew the moment Alex had walked into work Saturday morning. She remembered the look on his face from her mirror not a year before.
Bailey really hated when they brought their problems into work, because their work was important work, “People will DIE if you aren’t paying attention” type work. However, she still tried to keep from having to page O'Malley in on Saturday, despite the ER influx that came with late summer Saturday night drunkenness. She knew that O'Malley wouldn't be close to the frame of mind needed to work. Plus he had helped her birth her son. So it wasn't so much favoritism as returning a favor paid.
The Chief decided he was going to pretend like he had no idea was going on about a week after he found out that two of his male interns had started sleeping together. It meant that Karev wasn't out contracting and spreading diseases and that George no longer looked like a sad kitten. Except now O'Malley walked by avoiding his eyes, face constantly moist.
-----------------------------------
What’s the use of living here,
If I don’t feel alive?
Denied mistakes,
So much I’ve done.
So much to cry.
I cry.
It was funny in a way. When they had started everything George hadn't expected to last past Alex's next orgasm. It wasn't until he had moved in that long term thoughts had crept their way into his dreams. He'd learned as an undergrad that it was easier if you could move yourself with five boxes or less-damn housing crunches and shitty, homophobic roommates. But weeks after he'd moved into Alex's apartment, he'd started wanting to make it theirs. Now he had dozens of boxes of crap that he wouldn't couldn't use stacked in the lonely little room that would never be his in the same way again.
It stopped being about the sex for Alex two weeks after Bambi had moved in. George had bought a rooster shaped alarm clock for their bedroom. When his first impulse was to laugh and not smash the ugly thing Alex had known. George still thought it was about the sex for him. The entire time: three months and seven days since he had moved in; and five months and fifteen days after the first time Alex had kissed him in a silent stairwell-- George had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.
That kind of pressure weighed heavy on a person and Alex had learned with deal with pressure in certain ways in his life. Apparently all of those ways hurt George. Alex called in sick on Sunday for the first time since he could remember. He didn’t really wake up, so much as roll himself off the bed and into the shower. His plan was simple: he would go for a run (no where near the Grey house, he promised himself) and he would just keep running until it stopped hurting.
George hadn’t been able to say it was over to his face. He didn’t believe in himself enough to go through with it. So he had left a message on Alex’s cell Saturday morning, knowing the work-obsessed intern wouldn’t check it until lunch. The message was simple, if jumbled-he had a hard enough time talking to Alex every day-just a couple of sentences, dripping with a sadness that caused moisture to form in Alex’s eyes the first thirty times he listened.
“Well, I mean we both know that…”
“…”
“Dammit!”
--George sighs into the phone.-
“At least we tried.”
“I’ll miss--”
“…”
“Goodbye.”
~Finis~