Author: Katydidit, of course
Spoilers: No specifics, really.
Disclaimer: George and Meredith do not belong to me, though I often lie awake at night, pondering exactly how far I would go to get ownership of George O'Malley. I believe the answer is…as far as required. grin
AN: Got bored in Chem class and wrote a George/Mer fic because I hate Shepard with a fiery passion. I know that the weather and this whole story does not fit in with any of the timelines from the show, so can we just say that it's all AU and stuff? This is my first Grey's Anatomy fic: will probably be my only, unless there are episodes that inspire me further. Anyway, on with the show. If you liked it, please let me know why you liked it, and if you hated it and want to go poke your eyes out with a rusty spoon…um…I suppose let me know that, too. –cowers-
The angry voices floating up through his window from outside had finally quieted—he'd head Shepards' footsteps crunching in old snow as he'd stalked off. The man drove him crazy, not that he'd ever admit it ot anyone. Probably used to getting whatever he wanted, he'd treated Meredith like garbage, or perhaps some human-shaped yo-yo. It seemed like he always expected her to keep coming back, to forgive him every time he did something wrong. But, from the sounds of things, she'd finally made it clear to him—finally cut the string.
He felt relief—because she'd finally gotten rid of him, and could be happy now—but mostly because now Shepard was out of the way. He didn't have to worry about the other man anymore: had a better chance with her. But of course that made him feel lieke a jerk—he'd spent enough nights listening to her talk about him, to know how she felt. He knew she'd be hurting right now. He rose from his bed and padded down the stairs, telling himself that he was merely being a good friend, and not making a move.
The instant he opened the door, the icy wind tore through his thin shirt, and he almost wished he'd brought his coat. But she'd heard the door and had already turned to look at him. He joined her on the steps, crossing his arms for warmth.
"You alright?" he asked as she looked back at the ground with a shrug. "Come on, Mer," he tried again, nudging her gently in the side. "He wasn't good enough for you—nowhere near."
She laughed, though it sounded more like a scoff. "How do you know? I don't even know for sure." She still wasn't looking at him, so he reached over to touch her chin. It reeked of cliché and bad movies, but it was effective, at least, because she lifted her eyes to his.
"Because I know, Meredith. I know who you are. And I know that you deserve better. You deserve someone…to whom you're the only person in the world. Who knows everything about you, not because they've memorized it, but because you're such a big part of their life that it's impossible for them not to know. Someone who is absolutely crazy about you, but who doesn't think of you as a trophy: they're willing to just be friends with you, even if that means stepping back and watching you with people they can't stand, knowing all the while that they could make you so much happier…"
"George—" she interrupted, sounding mildly uncomfortable. He realized that he may have taken things too far, and stopped talking.
"What?" he asked, waiting for her to start yelling, or even worse, for her to compose some kind of 'soft let-down'
"You're shivering," she said, concerned, as she ran her hands up and down his arm, in attempt to warm him. "Why don't we go inside?"
He nodded, and they stood, heading for the door. She paused before opening it, to turn to him thoughtfully.
"Why did you come out here without a coat, anyway?" she asked, eyes searching his face for clues. "Are you…crazy?"
"Maybe I am," he answered quietly, practically flinching away from her. She smiled gently, almost hesitantly, and held the door for him. He felt her hand on his back as he walked back through, into the warmth of the house, and as she closed the door, her words came to him mixed with a whisper from the wind.
"Maybe I am, too."