Fic: My laughter, you won't hear... (Reed, with mentions of Alex)
Title: My laughter, you won't hear...
Character: Reed (mentions of Alex)
Word Count: 550
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Season Six finale.
Summary: She's thinking about bad boys and how he's not really one of them when it happens...
Author's Note: Lyrics from “Shackled” by Vertical Horizon.
My laughter, you won't hear
the faster I disappear
and time will burn your eyes to tears...
-
There's something about a guy from the wrong side of the tracks that really appeals to her. A bad boy as they say. The uncertainty that comes with the territory, the sense of adventure, the idea that you're somehow treading on forbidden ground.
They've got her into trouble more times than her mother will ever know.
She's a walking cliché, she's aware of this, and she'd hate it if there wasn't something so damn alluring and intriguing about it.
- - -
Underneath his gruff exterior she's almost certain that Alex Karev is no bad boy. As much as she so desperately wanted him to be back when they were first introduced.
She's watching him now. Surreptitiously through the relative obscurity of the supply room's cold metal racks.
It's not the first time. She's reminded suddenly; athletic shoulders dwarfing the impossibly tiny body of a premature baby who should be dying but isn't.
Impressive. Surprising. Sad. She allows a fleeting grin to slide across her face, to twitch at the corners of her lips just a touch.
It's not the first time she's watched him and she very much doubts it will be the last.
The bad boy who never really was.
- - -
She reaches for supplies with the automatic precision of someone who lives and breathes their surroundings.
Up and to the left for 16 gauge nasogastric tubes.
A little higher again but to the right for sterile gauze.
She's interrupted then. An elderly gentleman asking for directions she knows she can't possibly give.
She brushes him off, catches a flash of blue through the horizontal planes of metal upon metal. Alex, his movements a mirror image of her own, searches through the strategically assembled items for syringes or tubing, or maybe it's bandages, saline, intubation trays...
In the end it doesn't really matter.
In the end it all comes down to the same thing.
Surgery and saving people.
- - -
He interrupts her again. The old man. Pulls her from the automated task of supply gathering and wistful gazing to call her ma'am, to press a wrinkled hand, clinging and tight, around her arm.
She shakes off his contact, backs away a step. He shouldn't be here, she tells him that. And she's not a ma'am, she a surgeon. She decides she'll tell him that, too.
In a round about kind of way.
- - -
His face shifts to impassive. A steel straightened blank. He takes a step back and she's sorry for him momentarily, considers the possibility that maybe he's just lost. Maybe she could spare a few seconds to point him in the right direction after all.
Or maybe Alex knows the answers...
Because for the lost, for the helpless, hospitals can be scary places.
But she can't really remember the specifics of his question anyway and her patient is seizing and her arms are full of the supplies she's been sent to collect.
And he's being rude now. Or maybe she is. She can't quite tell. And there's something about him that just seems a little-
Character: Reed (mentions of Alex)
Word Count: 550
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Season Six finale.
Summary: She's thinking about bad boys and how he's not really one of them when it happens...
Author's Note: Lyrics from “Shackled” by Vertical Horizon.
My laughter, you won't hear
the faster I disappear
and time will burn your eyes to tears...
-
There's something about a guy from the wrong side of the tracks that really appeals to her. A bad boy as they say. The uncertainty that comes with the territory, the sense of adventure, the idea that you're somehow treading on forbidden ground.
They've got her into trouble more times than her mother will ever know.
She's a walking cliché, she's aware of this, and she'd hate it if there wasn't something so damn alluring and intriguing about it.
- - -
Underneath his gruff exterior she's almost certain that Alex Karev is no bad boy. As much as she so desperately wanted him to be back when they were first introduced.
She's watching him now. Surreptitiously through the relative obscurity of the supply room's cold metal racks.
It's not the first time. She's reminded suddenly; athletic shoulders dwarfing the impossibly tiny body of a premature baby who should be dying but isn't.
Impressive. Surprising. Sad. She allows a fleeting grin to slide across her face, to twitch at the corners of her lips just a touch.
It's not the first time she's watched him and she very much doubts it will be the last.
The bad boy who never really was.
- - -
She reaches for supplies with the automatic precision of someone who lives and breathes their surroundings.
Up and to the left for 16 gauge nasogastric tubes.
A little higher again but to the right for sterile gauze.
She's interrupted then. An elderly gentleman asking for directions she knows she can't possibly give.
She brushes him off, catches a flash of blue through the horizontal planes of metal upon metal. Alex, his movements a mirror image of her own, searches through the strategically assembled items for syringes or tubing, or maybe it's bandages, saline, intubation trays...
In the end it doesn't really matter.
In the end it all comes down to the same thing.
Surgery and saving people.
- - -
He interrupts her again. The old man. Pulls her from the automated task of supply gathering and wistful gazing to call her ma'am, to press a wrinkled hand, clinging and tight, around her arm.
She shakes off his contact, backs away a step. He shouldn't be here, she tells him that. And she's not a ma'am, she a surgeon. She decides she'll tell him that, too.
In a round about kind of way.
- - -
His face shifts to impassive. A steel straightened blank. He takes a step back and she's sorry for him momentarily, considers the possibility that maybe he's just lost. Maybe she could spare a few seconds to point him in the right direction after all.
Or maybe Alex knows the answers...
Because for the lost, for the helpless, hospitals can be scary places.
But she can't really remember the specifics of his question anyway and her patient is seizing and her arms are full of the supplies she's been sent to collect.
And he's being rude now. Or maybe she is. She can't quite tell. And there's something about him that just seems a little-