Work Text:
It’s a rainy and cloudy morning. The sun is nowhere in sight as George rushes into the hospital, papers above his head to keep his hair from getting wet. He slips on the wet floor slightly, making squeaking noises with his shoes with every step forward he takes. He finally reaches the locker room and immediately changes into his scrubs and white coat.
None of his coworkers are in the locker room. Note he says coworkers, and not friends. This is because he feels like he can’t connect with them, not even Lexie who keeps trying to talk to him. He thinks maybe she’s only doing it to get close to Meredith, and that doesn’t sit right with him.
So the fact they’re gone is only a bad thing because George is late, and he knows it, and now there’s no one to be late with. Bailey is surely fuming somewhere in the hallway, tapping her foot, considering leaving him behind.
He slams his locker shut and yanks the door, running down the hall, coat blowing behind him. He stops short when he sees Bailey and the other interns crowded into a small room where a patient tells of their newest symptoms. Shit, he’s definitely late.
He peers inside the room.
Bailey catches sight of him and makes a face before excusing herself. The interns chatter amongst themselves as she makes her way towards him.
“Why are you late?” She seethes. “I can’t just wait for you every damn day.”
“I slept in!” He exclaims, holding his hands up in defense. “I didn’t mean to!”
She sighs, staring into his eyes for a long moment before relenting. “Just don’t be late again.” He nods silently as she motions for the other interns to regroup next to her.
The work is fine. Average, even, if that could really be a thing in a hospital. It’s just a little busy, especially around lunch time.
Now, George had elected to skip breakfast to save an essential ten minutes this morning. He thought he could handle it until lunch, and maybe he could have.
However, when Bailey turns to him and asks him with those motherly eyes if he could please work in the free clinic - since it’s overrun and no one else wants to - he just nods with a big smile and says sure.
He loves the clinic, actually. Loves the kids, the parents, the quirky people that make their way in there. Sure, there’s always rude people, but most of the time it’s just worried people who need to be reassured, or sick patients that need a prescription or two before he sends them on the way. There is no death here, there is no darkness. And with the sign on the doorway memorializing it in Denny’s honor, there’s a hint of hope too, despite it being sad he’s gone… there’s something good in the memory here.
He works hard, not for Denny, not for Izzie, but for Bailey, because she asked him to. She could ask him to do anything and he’d jump to do it immediately. He’d have to consider throwing himself off a bridge like they all say… but who knows? Maybe he would. Well, that’s just how it is for him. He cares deeply about her and he just wants to make her proud.
He doesn’t feel like he does, not since he failed his intern exam. He feels like a failure. That’s why he’s been working himself extra hard these past few months - to prove himself to her. His mom couldn’t give less of a shit what he does, and he couldn’t care less what she thinks of him. But Bailey? Everything she says about him and everything she thinks about him means something so much deeper to him. Like she was his mom, and not the woman back home who raised him.
So he works hard in the clinic and sees multiple patients. He keeps his eyes away from the clock and just works. He works hard every day, too. He hasn’t been sleeping much lately, too stressed from the long days he’s having. He hasn’t eaten much either because he’s been working so much. He forgot dinner last night after a hard shift - had just climbed into bed once he got home and got his shoes off - so he hasn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday… where he’d only eaten half a sandwich.
He thinks it’s fine, but while he’s working he starts to feel lightheaded. His head feels funny and suddenly everything is blurring.
He tries to ignore it and push through it. He sends another patient off with a prescription and then goes to move but for some reason his legs feel like jelly. He can’t move right.
“Hey, Bailey,” he calls, moving away from the bed and to the front desk area. She barely looks at him. If she had, she’d see he’s pale and sweaty and shaking. But all she sees is his scrubs.
“What are you doing? Do you need me to assign you another patient or can you go talk to one on your own?”
He shakes his head but that makes everything worse. He takes a harsh breath and mutters, “No, sorry.”
He takes a step back from her but the floor must’ve moved because he stumbles. It’s not where he remembers it being. She however doesn’t notice and goes back to some kind of book… at least he thinks that’s what she’s doing. He can’t really tell. Everything is blurring and shifting. He turns and the room spins violently around him so he squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. He steadies himself with a hand clenched hard on the counter.
He opens his eyes at a noise he can’t decipher and everything is moving, he can’t figure out where he’s going or what direction is where. He has no idea where he is. He curses lowly to himself and attempts to make it to the bed to lay down for a moment, but before he can everything rapidly starts going dark. The floor sways under his feet and quickly comes to greet him. His head makes harsh contact with it before everything goes white and then black.
//
Bailey is tired. No, wait, tired is an understatement. She’s exhausted. She’s been on her feet all day and all she wants to do is go home.
She’s so thankful O’Malley is helping out in the clinic. It gives her a minute to breathe and sit, put her feet up, and overall just not be talking to another person about what’s wrong with them. She watches him for a while before she begins to read a book. It’s been a while since she’s been able to do something like this, let alone on shift.
She even goes to get lunch and leaves the clinic in his care. He works diligently for hours. She’s secretly a little proud of him, knowing he could’ve passed his intern exam if he’d just gotten one more point. If he just hadn’t been so scared for his friends, so empathetic, maybe he wouldn’t be here now trying to make up for it while all of his friends move on without him. She’s proud like a mother is proud of her son. Her favorite son.
She sincerely hopes she didn’t fail him.
She feels like she did.
She sighs and comes back to the clinic after eating a nice salad, taking in the amount of people. It’s actually not really busy at all today, but it hasn’t been too busy yet since it opened.
Her eyes lift from her book to George when he greets her.
“What are you doing?” She starts. “Do you need me to assign you another patient or can you go talk to one on your own?” It comes out a little harsh, and she thinks she catches him flinch a bit. She feels regret, but she’s just so tired, and she hadn’t meant to be so aggressive. She just didn’t want this to end yet.
“No, sorry…” she thinks she hears George say. It’s quiet. He’s … never really been that quiet before. She watches him go and sees him stumble, foot catching on the floor.
“Shit,” she curses. “George?” She asks carefully, already getting to her feet. “Are you-“
Before she can finish her sentence, he’s crashing to the floor.
“Shit!”
She rushes over to him, leaping over the counter, but it’s too late. He’s already made contact with the ground before she can reach him. Her knees slide against the floor as she leans over him.
He’s out. Unconscious. Crap.
She sits by him for the few minutes he’s out before he wakes up and looks around with clouded eyes.
“Hey, George,” she says in her mom voice. “Are you okay?”
“Wha?”
She cringes and holds up four fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
His eyes seem to pass right through her hand. “Where am I?” He tries to sit up but winces and clutches his head.
“Headache?” She guesses. He nods but then winces more.
“It’s okay. Come on, we’re getting you a bed.” She helps him to his feet and then walks him to an empty bed. He curls up and watches her, a little more alert but not by much just yet.
“Do you know what day it is, George?”
He pauses, then shakes his head.
“Okay, how about you tell me the months in reverse order?”
He blinks up at her and then starts counting backwards. “Uhh… Janua- no… December… March?” he struggles and then huffs out an irritated sigh.
“It’s okay. Easy. Don’t worry about it.” He’s definitely got a concussion- he can’t even stand right. She lets him lay down after checking his pupils and drawing an X in front of him to see if he follows it.
“Bailey?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
She grins. “Of course.” But it’s clouded with worry. Why had he passed out? What happened? She needs to keep him overnight for observation at least until she figures out if he’s prone to passing out again. She doesn’t tell his friends even though she probably should because she doesn’t want them swarming him when he can barely form a sentence. It would be too overwhelming.
A few hours go by and he seems to be a little better, but she still worries over him and makes sure she’s not missing something. She can’t fail him.
“George,” she asks, knowing he can at least piece together a reasonable answer now. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “I was working, and then suddenly I woke up in a bed.”
“Do you know why you passed out?”
At this he makes a face. “George,” she pushes, but he shakes his head. She sighs but decides to just ask again later when he’s not in a bed.
She even stays overnight, despite her coworkers trying to drag her away from his bedside. She sleeps in the chair next to him while he catches up on sleep. It’s peaceful despite the nurses and doctors running around outside the room, because all she cares about is the sound of his breathing.
///
George gets a lot better fast, but he’s still having headaches and other symptoms which they both agree will go away soon. Soon he’s well enough to come into work, where he smiles at Bailey and greets her.
She, however, is not having it.
She pulls him by the arm into an empty hallway. He makes a surprised face but doesn’t protest.
“You passed out,” she says, eyes narrowing. “Why?”
“What do you mean why? Sometimes people just-“
“You made a face when I asked. You know why. Just tell me. I can’t have you passing out again at work.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, averting his gaze. He stares hard at his shoes. “I didn’t eat.”
She tilts her head, suddenly flooded with concern. “Why?”
“I was working, I just didn’t have time. I hadn’t eaten a proper meal since… I don’t know when. My last meal was half a sandwich the afternoon before for lunch.”
“You don’t have to push yourself so hard,” she says, patting his shoulder gently. “It’s okay, you know. You didn’t have to work in the clinic that day, and not for so long.”
“I wanted to make you happy,” he mumbles, scuffing his shoe. She barely catches it, but she does. Her eyes widen in realization.
“George-“
“-no, I-“ he shakes his head - “I failed you, I failed the intern exam. I’m just doing so much wrong. I’m a failure.” He’s staring hard at the ground but she can see his shoulders shaking. His hand is on his face.
“Hey.” He looks up, tears in his eyes. “You’re not a failure to me.”
Now his eyes widen. She watches his eyebrows draw together and then he looks away. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not. George, I’m proud of you. You’re working so hard. You don’t need to. I’m always going to be proud of you.”
He takes a sharp breath, shoulders hunching, tears slipping down his face. “Do you mean it?” He asks softly.
“Of course I do. Get out of here with that nonsense. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
He smiles at her and then suddenly he’s hugging her, head on her shoulder. She hugs tightly back and all they both can do is grin, happy to be with the other. Like mother and son.