Fandoms: Dead Like Me / Grey's Anatomy
Rating: PG (bad language)
Warnings: None. Character death--It's Dead Like Me, what do you expect?--but nothing gruesome.
Summary: Things have gotten out of hand at Seattle Grace Hospital. Something's gotta be done.
George was killing time in the hospital cafeteria when Roxy appeared at her shoulder. "Come with me," Roxy said, grabbing George's wrist and yanking her out of her seat. George dragged her feet long enough to lunge for and grab up her coffee cup.
"Roxy--what the fuck?" George tried to retrieve her wrist but Roxy continued dragging her toward the exit. Nobody was likely to interfere either. Roxy's aggressive strut, basilisk gaze and police uniform saw to that.
"I need your help," Roxy said. "He's here!"
"Who? Who's here? Wait--you need my help?"
"Who do you think?" Roxy replied, about the time George realized who she was talking about.
George looked around, half expecting him to be lurking nearby. "Son of a bitch! He's here?"
"What did I just say!?" Roxy snapped. She led George onto the stairs to the second floor.
“Why do you need me?” George asked. "And I have my own reap to worry about in like--" George checked her watch. "Five minutes."
“Because he’s seen you before,” Roxy said in a casual tone that told George her attention was elsewhere. She was never that matter-of-fact about questions when she was really listening. They reached the second floor and Roxy immediately started for the third.
“But if he’s seen me before, doesn’t that sort of defeat the purpose?” George asked.
“Jesus, George--all you have to do is get his attention for a second! Can you do that?”
"Yes!" George snapped. "Christ, Roxy--I'll do it. Just relax."
Roxy turned on her suddenly. "Look, George, this asshole has been on the loose for nearly a year, thanks to Mason,” she said. “Running around loose, causing trouble, and making us look like prize chumps. The Natural Causes crew? Laughing at us, George--laughing! Even the Plague guys. You'd think they'd jump at the chance to do something useful, but no."
Roxy turned and gave George a glance before they started up another escalator. "And you didn't exactly cover yourself with glory when you tried to bring him in--"
George felt her face heat at the memory of her failure. Even Mason had mocked her for that. Mason! And it was his damn fault in the first place. "Don't remind me."
"So now it's up to me. Shoulda been up to me all along, you ask me. I'm gonna take him down--and you're going to help!"
"Jesus! Alright, fine!" George scowled at Roxy. "But I have a reap of my own to handle--"
"Whatever," Roxy said, waving away George's objection. "You'll have plenty of time for that. But first you're gonna do a little job for me."
Now they were lurking in the surgical wing. Roxy glanced casually to her left, down the corridor. Then she looked at George. “Okay, George, it’s show time. You remember what to do?”
George rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she snapped. “I know what to do!”
Roxy glared back at her, clearly unconvinced. She jabbed a finger at George. “Don’t fuck this up, George,” she warned.
“Just go!” George said.
Roxy gave George the stink eye for a moment, then turned without another word and walked around the corner. George waited for a good two minutes before peeping around the corner. Roxy was nowhere in sight. But their target was, talking to a dark haired young man in scrubs who clearly wasn’t listening—couldn’t even hear him, George knew.
George walked quickly and quietly down the hallway. She was almost within arm’s reach when both men looked up. “George,” Denny Duquette said, at the same time the young man--a doctor, George figured--asked, “Can I help you?”
“You’ve had your fun, Denny,” George said, “but it’s time to go.”
Denny grinned. Once upon a time George had thought his grin was charming. Now it just aggravated the hell out of her. He was so god damned smug--and with good reason, unfortunately. He’d been making fools of them all ever since giving Mason the slip early on. He’d gone missing until recently, when he'd been turned up again in Seattle Grace, spotted by the Natural Causes crew here at the hospital. Spotted but ignored--not their problem, they'd pointed out to Rube when asked why they didn't do something about it. Boy, Rube had been a real shit that day. More than usual, even.
“Excuse me?” the doctor asked.
“Nice to see you again, George,” Denny said, just as if they were friends--equals--meeting one another. To look at him you'd never think he'd laughed and pointed and mocked George's one previous attempt to bring him in. Asshole. “George, I’d like you to meet Doctor Karev. Alex Karev. Alex, this is George.”
“C’mon,” George said impatiently, ignoring him and reaching for Denny.
Denny leaped out of his chair and dodged to one side. “I’m not going anywhere, George,” Denny said. “We’ve done this before. You know how it turns out.”
“Not this time,” George said.
“Who are you talking to?” Alex demanded.
George ignored him and grabbed for Denny’s wrist again. Denny jerked his arm out of reach and then took a step backward, that infuriating shit eating grin on his face again. “See you later, George, “ Denny said, and stepped backward through the wall--his standard routine for evading Grim Reapers. As a ghost, he could walk through walls. They couldn’t.
“Miss, are you all right?” Doctor Karev asked.
"I'm fine," George said. A crash from the meeting room behind him caught his attention. As he started to turn around, George clutched at his arm. "You're a doctor, right?" she asked.
"Wha--yeah, I'm a doctor. So what?"
"Hold still, goddammit!" Roxy snarled from the next room, accompanied by another crash. It sounded like someone stumbling over a chair. Doctor Karev turned toward the door again.
George yanked at his arm. “You should get down to the ER," George said. Loudly. "Some guy named Samuelson is about to croak."
That got his attention. "What? How do you know?"
"Uh...they told me to find you?"
"Who told you?" Karev demanded. "Why would they do that? Why wouldn't they page me? Who the hell are you!?" Karev's voice's grew more strident with each question. George was trying to think of a good answer when his beeper went off. Karev snatched the beeper off his belt, glanced at the display, spared a moment to glare at George suspiciously--then hurried away.
George watched him until he vanished around a corner, then opened the door of the meeting room. Roxy was just pulling Denny to his feet ungently, one hand on the handcuffs binding his wrists, the other gripping the hair at the crown of his head. "Gently! Gently, darling," Denny said. "Ow! Not so rough, okay?"
"Shut up!" Roxy snapped. "You brought this on yourself."
George laughed. "You tell him!" she said.
Roxy turned her basilisk glare on George. "Don't you have a reap to take care of?" George's silence was apparently answer enough. "So get to it! I'll meet you outside."
George scowled but headed toward the ER, down two flights of stairs and half the length of the hospital away.
When George reached the ER she paused long enough to survey the scene. It wasn't nearly the chaotic hell a lifetime of watching ER had taught her to expect. Half a dozen people in the waiting area, none of them looking like her guy. George checked her Post-it note. Trauma Three. It was easy enough to find--it was the only room filled with doctors. A police officer was standing outside watching Karev and several other doctors laboring over another cop whose chest was a bloody mess.
"That Samuelson?" George asked casually. Getting to him in the middle of all that chaos was gonna be a pain in the ass.
"What?" the cop said. "No, I'm Samuelson--that's my partner, Mike Nelson."
"Oh," George said, eyeing him with relief. He'd be easy. He was a big guy, tall and barrel chested. His belly was bigger than his chest but he still looked like he could kick some ass. And he was looking at her curiously now. Shit. George turned her attention to the frantic activity before them. After a moment Samuelson did as well. The activity grew a little less frantic as they watched. George had the only Post-it for Seattle Grace today. If Nelson was going to die it wouldn't be today.
George glanced sidelong at Samuelson. He was looking a little pale now. She reached out and patted his arm awkwardly, running her fingers down the sleeve of his jacket. Pop goes the soul, easy as pie. "I'm sure he'll be fine," she said.
"Yeah..." Samuelson agreed. He was looking paler and sweaty now. "I don't feel so..." he said, mostly to himself. He pressed a hand to his ribs and grimaced. When he pulled his hand away, there was blood on his palm. He looked at it in dull surprise and resignation. "I'm...I'm shot," he said, and then collapsed.
George looked down at him, unmoved, as blood began to spread across the floor. She'd seen a hell of a lot violent death in recent years, most of it grisly. As violent deaths went, his was damn good. His breathing slowed and finally stopped. "Son of a bitch got me too!" Samuelson said at George's side.
George glanced up, meeting his gaze. "Looks like," George agreed.
"I am dead, right?" Samuelson asked. George nodded. "You don't seem surprised by this," Samuelson said.
"Nope," George agreed. "C'mon," she said, walking toward the exit, "let's get out of here before somebody finds you and raises holy hell." She headed back toward the main entrance of the hospital, Samuelson following obediently.
"So who or what are you?" Samuelson asked.
George was waiting for that question, or some variant thereof. She'd heard it a million times and she could answer it in her sleep. She gave Samuelson the canned spiel she'd worked up over the years she'd been a Grim Reaper, enough information to satisfy them but without leaving much room for pointless questions she couldn't answer and didn't want to deal with.
Samuelson sighed gustily. "Swell," he said. "So--now what?"
George glanced around the lobby of the hospital. "Now we wait for Roxy. And then you go on to your Eternal Reward."
Samuelson snorted. "Eternal Reward, huh?" he said. "What does that mean, exactly? I'm--I was--no angel."
George chuckled. "Beats the hell out me--"
A shriek of absolute rage echoed through the lobby. "Goddammit!" Roxy shouted from behind them. George spun around to see Roxy tumble down the last few steps of the staircase. Denny, hands still bound behind his back, was racing toward the entrance. "Izzy! Izzy!" Denny yelled, looking around frantically. He noticed George and changed course.
"George, get him!" Roxy bellowed, climbing to her feet. "Don't let him get away!"
"Shit!" George said with feeling and ran toward Denny. He grinned that infuriating, smug grin again and charged her. Roxy was on her feet again and running after him. George lunged for him, arms spread to try to tackle him or at least slow him down for Roxy. Somehow Denny contrived to crash into George so she staggered and fell into Roxy's path. Roxy tripped over George, giving her a solid boot to the ribs in the process. They tumbled to the floor, tangled up and cursing a blue streak.
George struggled to her feet again, as did Roxy. George looked around. They'd drawn a crowd. Visitors, nurses, a couple of doctors, even a security guard. Denny was nowhere to be seen. "Motherfucker," George yelled, drawing frowns from several bystanders. George ignored them, choosing instead to sulk while Roxy dispersed the crowd with her attitude, her badge and some bullshit story George paid no attention.
"I can't believe that son of a bitch got away again," George muttered to Roxy. Trying for solidarity in defeat was a long shot but she really didn't want to listen to Roxy bitch her out the whole way back to Der Waffle Haus. Roxy's scowl faded and a look of...grim satisfaction took it's place.
"Maybe he didn't," Roxy said.
George turned. Officer Samuelson was approaching them with Denny in hand. Samuelson had Denny's handcuffed wrists yanked up almost between his shoulder blades so he couldn't struggle much. He'd stopped shouting at least, but he was looking smug again.
"I believe you ladies lost something?" Samuelson said with a smirk. On him it didn't look so bad.
"What are you laughing at, asshole?" George demanded of Denny.
Denny shrugged as much as he was able. "Now that you've got me, what are you gonna do with me, George? You can't make me go. You can't. So you might as well let me go again."
Outside the hospital stardust began falling from the sky. Samuelson watched wide-eyed, but Denny's attempts to wrest himself free were useless. The stardust grew thicker and brighter, building up into a glittering...paddy wagon? George stared at it for a moment as well, then laughed. She got it now.
"No," George said to Denny. She nodded at Samuelson. "But he can. I think your ride is here, Officer.
"So it seems," Samuelson said.
"George--" Denny said, a pleading note in his voice now.
"Forget it," George said. "Denny Duquette, meet Officer Samuelson. He'll be escorting you on from here."
"No," Denny said, "I'm not going." Samuelson began herding Denny toward the exit. It went fairly smoothly despite Denny's best efforts to struggle free. Denny began shouting for Izzy again, bellowing at the hospital.
Samuelson frog marched Denny through the doorway to the rear of the ghostly paddy wagon and manhandled him into it with some difficulty. When he slammed the doors, Denny's shouts were muffled though they continued unabated. Samuelson walked around and opened the passenger side door of the vehicle. He climbed up, half turned to sketch a salute to Roxy and George, then climbed in and closed the door.
"Denny!" George jumped in surprise as a pretty blond woman in surgical scrubs bolted past them. "Denny!"
"Izzy, I presume," Roxy said. "She can see him...."
George shrugged. "Must be crazy, then," George said. Izzy--it had to be Izzy--ran shouting after the phantom paddy wagon. It was already rolling forward. She chased it, shouting Denny's name over and over as it faded into invisibility before it reached the street. Izzy stumbled to a halt, swayed on her feet and then crumpled to the ground sobbing.
"Let's get the fuck out of here," George said. She and Roxy walked out of the hospital and past Izzy. Behind them a half dozen men and women in scrubs rushed out to swoop down on the weeping woman.