A/N: Just my take on what happened after Izzie's date with Alex following Deny, Deny, Deny. Kinda, just a little, dark. But it does have a small silver lining at the end :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy, but I wish I owned Justin Chambers and Patrick Dempsy, just for one day.


I stood alone, perplexed. I could hardly believe that what had happened was real. It seemed like a dream, a really bad nightmare that trapped you in and tried to drown you. My stomach felt like it had taken a thousand punches and my eyes stung with welling tears. Shock seemed to eat into me slowly, like a caterpillar chewing on an innocent leaf. My mind reeled, thoughts and questions flooding it forcefully. What had happened!

My arm stung painfully, the blood pumping through it like a pulse, his poison slowly weakening me. Nobody had ever grabbed me that tightly. I could still feel his fingers wrapping around me, cold and almost lifeless.

His eyes said the most, the warning that flashed dangerously before he exploded still fresh in my mind. It was like he was trying to tell me to get away, to leave him alone. I felt an unease throbbing through me just thinking about it. Something was buried deep inside of him and it had surfaced just minutes ago, although it had been flailing below his skin, gasping for air nearly the entire night.

The date hadn't exactly been ideal. His mind had been somewhere else, his hands and legs jittery, his expression distant and stone cold. He had even been biting his nails on several occasions. I joked about that and he had smiled in return, not all there. He had continued biting until he offered to walk me home.

Our conversation was awkward and stilted, neither of us saying a good two consistent words to one another. The night air was not particularly chilled and there was a gentle breeze to accompany us. He walked with his hands stuffed in his pockets. I thought his fingers would literally slice through his jeans. He kept his head down, constantly bobbing with his chain of thought.

There was a slight opportunity to talk to him when he brought his head up and his eyes stared forward. I asked him what he thought of the restaurant. Italian food, it had been, and that was fine with me. I had ordered pasta, he had eaten not even half of his supreme pizza. He looked to me with a careless shrug, his eyes once again distant and seemingly indifferent.

That was when I had stopped him with my hand firmly gripping his arm. He had glanced at it before snatching his arm away violently and glaring at me. My mind raced and I remembered his father was an alcoholic. He must have been grabbed many times like that by his father when he was intoxicated. I hastily apologised and looked down, waiting patiently to be reformed in his eyes. Then I saw his eyes. Cold and hardened, like steel. I asked him on impulse what was wrong.

That had been a mistake because he grabbed me tightly, too tightly. Remembering his grip I reached up a hand to stroke where he had left a print on my arm. It was red and throbbing, and I was sure there would be a bruise there in the morning. His eyes had then flashed dangerously, the warning that would haunt my memory for at least a while visible to me. He leaned in close to me, his lips inadvertently brushing against my ear.

"It's none of your business," he whispered dangerously low, his voice dark. "Don't pretend you care. You're just like the rest of them."

That was it. That was all it took and I was completely perplexed, in a daze, my mind in a race with my beating heart. I was shocked. Puzzled. Confused. Scared. But I was shocked, puzzled, confused and scared not because of what had happened, but because I felt heartbroken over it. It was like a literal feeling of a cracking heart, the blood flowing warm out of it.

I had watched him walk away, his feet never coming to rest, his head never turning on his shoulders. He didn't look back and that was probably a good thing because I must have looked completely stunned. My light dress flailed behind me in the gentle breeze and I felt it strangely comforting. I finally took the time to suck in a breath, the air filling my lungs and resuscitating me. Once again I felt alive, but I could not get rid of that feeling deep within my chest. The one of shock, puzzlement and confusion that beat with my unsteady heart. The feeling I was so scared of.