Grey's Anatomy 1. The Twelve Days of Christmas

**Doc: This is just a collection of seasonal ficlets that seemed to pop into my head one night. They're basically unrelated, and can be interpreted any way you like. It's basically just a bunch of scenarios between the hospital staff that I found amusing. Lately, the only thing I can seem to write about is Christmas. So you all get this lovely early Christmas Gift. And, as a bonus, I'm not dead. **

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wonderful characters of Grey's Anatomy. I do, however, own the odd scenarios that sprout in these ficlets.

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**001. The Twelve Days of Christmas**

_Continuity: Second Christmas; after season two._

Last year it had been different. It was Black Friday one year ago when they'd come home to find the house completely covered in a thin blanket of holiday cheer. Izzie had given her playful smile, the one she used when she knew she went overboard with something as she was very likely to do. They'd let it go then; she'd been going through a difficult time. And though neither Meredith nor George would ever admit it, Izzie wasn't the only one who enjoyed the holidays. She just happened to be the only one to show it.

This year wasn't like that. He came home on a chilly Friday afternoon, exhausted from a forty-eight hour shift. Kicking some of the freshly fallen snow from his shoes, George kicked them off and left them by the door. He shook his head roughly, almost like a dog trying to rid itself of the snow in its fur. Snowflakes fell onto the ground though he didn't bother to clean them up. Instead he shuffled into the den, a heavy sigh passing over his lips as he leaned in the doorway.

"Not going out tonight?" He questioned, eying Meredith on the couch with a steady gaze. She looked up from the cup of cocoa she'd made and shrugged indifferently. She took a sip of her cocoa and echoed his sigh.

"It's December thirteenth," Meredith replied. Somehow George understood this, even if it wasn't the answer to his question. It seemed to satisfy him, though, for he slid into the room and flopped onto the couch next to her, chin resting on the back of the couch. Christmas lights were blinking at him from their neighbors' houses. Another collective sigh.

"There's only twelve more days until Christmas, George," Meredith murmured unnecessarily. He'd figured that much out. His eyes reflected the multicolored lights as he traced a snowflake on the frosty window behind them.

"Last year she had that tree up by the day after Thanksgiving," he responded, turning to cast the staircase a glance. Maybe if he stared at it long enough Izzie would come bounding down with tinsel in hand and deck the halls. Maybe she'd go back to being her normal self, too.

It had taken her a long time to get over Denny. No, scratch that. Everyone knew Izzie wasn't over Denny and that she probably never would be. But she had finally gotten back to work and was acting seemingly normal. It had just spurred up around Thanksgiving, this new, reclusive Izzie who liked to spend her free time locked up in her room or baking. Absently George snatched a cookie from the plate on his left.

"I miss the lights," he managed, gaze drifting back to the window.

"I miss the cookies," Meredith muttered under her breath just as George stuffed the last of Izzie's baked goods into his mouth. Giving a sheepish smile he glanced about, eyes falling onto the closet in the corner he knew to hold all of the various Christmas decorations.

"I miss Izzie," he finally admitted, slowly getting to his feet and stretching his arms over his head. "I miss how she used to be." Meredith paused, a thoughtful look passing through her eyes. George arched a brow at the grin creeping upon her lips.

"I think I know how we can get her back."

GA

She was a surgeon. Death was inevitable. It shouldn't be that hard to digest. Death might have been inevitable, but who you fall in love with? You can't help who you fall in love with. That fact had already been established. Apparently, you couldn't help how long you stayed in love, either. It was December thirteenth and Izzie Stevens was locked up in her bedroom, staring blankly into the darkness. It was Christmastime and she wasn't into it.

Why wasn't she into it?

Denny. Denny was the reason for many changes in the former Doctor Model. She was still Izzie, sure, but you could still see her eyes spark when the topic was mentioned, about what happened those months ago. She wasn't over Denny. She didn't think she ever would be. Last year, she'd thrown all her energy into Christmas after the entire Alex ordeal. This year, she preferred staying locked up in her room.

Because Denny was dead, she wasn't into it.

It had hit her just after Thanksgiving. She'd never shared Christmas with Denny. She'd never even baked him anything. She should have, Izzie knew. He should be there with her right now, decorating the tree. He should have been the one to put the star on top. She should be happy right now, dammit!

"On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me twelve drummers drumming," Izzie blinked. There were no visions of sugar plums dancing in her head. Why was she hearing Christmas carols?

"Eleven pipers piping," she pushed herself into a seated position, eyebrows furrowed. She was definitely hearing singing. Izzie rubbed her eyes, staring at the closed door.

"Ten lords a-leaping," She swung her legs over the bed. Someone was laughing. It struck her as odd that anyone could be happy right now, when she was so depressed.

"Nine ladies dancing," Izzie stood, somehow drawn to the music. No, she told herself, she was just going to see where it was coming from. After all, Meredith and George weren't Christmas people. There were probably some carolers outside or something.

"Eight maids a-milking," She pushed the door open, squinting into the darkness. It was eight o'clock p.m. Why was it so dark in here? Izzie supposed George and Meredith were out. It was Friday after all.

"Seven swans a-swimming," but the singing sounded so close. Izzie hovered at the top of the stairs for a moment. The singing had stopped. She vaguely heard whispers before another line suddenly piped up, "Six geese a-laying."

Izzie bit her lip, waiting for the triumphant fifth number. "Five golden rings!" She took a step, lingering at the second to last step and attempting to peer into the dim house below.

"Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves..."

"Hey, what's that last line again?"

"I dunno." Izzie rolled her eyes lightly, glancing about cautiously. Unconsciously, she'd hopped down each of the steps and was now standing awkwardly on the landing. George and Meredith were ignoring her, but she noted he had a string of tinsel wrapped around his neck. Meredith was partially tangled with Christmas lights. The tree was positioned near the window, fully decorated save for the star.

"A partridge in a pear tree," Izzie supplied with a heavy sigh.

"Huh?" George murmured with a frown, stumbling over a box of decorations littering the floor.

"The last line. It's 'and a partridge in a pear tree'. But you already knew that." Meredith and George exchanged innocent looks that failed miserably. Izzie moved into the den, eyebrow arched. He finally burst into laughter and had to turn away. Meredith simply shrugged.

"We knew you couldn't resist Christmas carols. So, what do you think?"

Izzie cast the den a surveying glance. She nodded her approval. "Couldn't have done it better myself." She finally took pity on George and snatched the end of the tinsel, successfully untangling him from the mess of silver. She moved to string the tinsel over the window, slightly surprised when George tapped her shoulder.

"Yeah?"

He held up the glittering silver star as an offering. "We saved the star for you."

Izzie sighed slightly, reluctantly taking the tree-topper from him and moving to place it at the top of the tree. Denny should have been putting the star on the tree. Instead, she was doing it in his place. She placed the star gently on the tip, eyes wandering to the window. A smile had crept its way across her face.

It was snowing.

**002. Cookies**

_Continuity: Any Christmas._

He sat on a stool near the counter watching her. She had all the ingredients spread out over the counter around a large bowl. One batch was already cooking away in the oven, but she was on a tight schedule. There needed to be at least twelve dozen cookies for the hospital's annual Christmas party tonight, and she was determined there would be two dozen of six different kinds. She was trying her best to ignore him, but George had that sad puppy look on his face again.

Izzie couldn't resist his sad puppy face.

Groaning slightly she began mixing her ingredients slowly, eyes averted from his. But George had the kind of warm gaze you couldn't help but be drawn to, even when you were ignoring him. "Stop looking at me," she murmured between stirs. "Can't you see I'm trying to create a masterpiece?"

"The party's in a few hours," George answered offhandedly, elbow propped on the counter and chin in his upturned palm. "Want some help?" If it was one thing Izzie took pride in besides her medical career, it was her baking. She never let _anyone_ help with her baking, not even George.

"I'll be fine," she responded as the timer went off. Putting on a pair of snowman decorated oven mitts she removed a tray of steaming gingerbread cookies and placed them on the counter to cool. Her eyes followed George's steady gaze to the hot cookies and she held his gaze. "Don't even think about it." She then turned to place her next batch, snicker doodles, into the oven, ignoring his pitiful groan of longing.

"They're not gonna miss one cookie, Iz."

"George, go. Maybe if you're a good boy and let Izzie finish her baking, she'll let you decorate the gingerbread men." She was speaking to him as if he was a five year old child. Dejected, George slid off from his stool and skulked into the den. Vaguely, Izzie could hear 'It's a Wonderful Life' playing through for the fifteenth time that year.

As she bustled around the kitchen making last minute arrangements for her cookies, Izzie stared blankly at her freshly decorated gingerbread men. George hadn't come in to help her decorate them, but he was sure to sit on the couch so she could see him every time she passed the doorway. Her gaze lingered on him for a split second, but she turned away when he looked up at her.

Mixing the batter of another recipe, she hovered in front of her gingerbread men. Sighing to herself she grabbed a napkin and slipped one of the cookies onto it. Izzie, Santa Claus apron and all, appeared in the doorway and held out the cookie as a peace offering. "For me?' George questioned in an amused tone.

"Yeah," she replied as he stood, snatching the cookie and biting off one of its legs. He chewed thoughtfully and Izzie waited, as if for his approval. He swallowed hard and gave a thoughtful nod. "Well?"

"I especially liked the gumdrop buttons. Nice touch." She elbowed him playfully in the ribs before heading back to the kitchen. George took another chunk of his cookie before making to go back to the couch.

Izzie cast a glance over her shoulder expectantly. George tilted his head slightly to one side. "Wanna lick the spoon?"

He grinned and trailed her into the kitchen. Nothing like Christmas to get Izzie to share her cookie dough.

**003. But As For Me And Grandpa**

_Continuity: Any Christmas._

He glanced around the emergency room with distaste. This was his least favorite time of year for work. People were idiots. They ended up in the hospital for the most outrageous accidents during the holiday season. This time was no different. He'd been called down for a neuro consult, and quite frankly he wasn't all that excited for it.

At least until he found out who the intern on this case was. "Doctor Grey," he gave a light grin to which she returned. "What've we got?"

"Doctor Shepherd," she nodded slowly, eyeing their patient cautiously. "She seems to have been in an accident. We're not exactly sure, since she's incoherent. She is conscious but..."

"I told you, the driver was wearing a red coat! It was him, Santa Claus!"

Meredith gave a sheepish sort of smile. "She's under the impression that Santa Claus was the driver." Derek simply stared from the retired woman lying in the hospital bed to Meredith and back again.

"She's obviously suffering from post-traumatic stress." He pulled out a flashlight and looked into the patient's eyes. He had her follow his finger with his hand. Other then a large gash in her forehead, which had been sewn up, and the break on her right arm, she seemed fine. Except she was talking crazy. That was what concerned him.

"I'd like to keep her under observation for a couple of days. See if she can tell us the real story."

Meredith nodded. "But Derek, it's Christmas Eve. She was with her family and-"

Apparently the patient didn't agree with the diagnosis. "I have told you the whole story. I told you that the guy with the red coat ran me over!" Derek and Meredith exchanged cautious glances.

"Mrs. Thompson, you're experiencing what is commonly known as post-traumatic delusions. You should be fine in a day or two. I know it's Christmas and all, but that's no excuse to be acting crazy. Now-"

Derek was cut off by a small boy darting passed the curtain to stand next to the patient. He cast the child a glance before the boy began to speak rapidly. "Grandma got run over by a reindeer!" Derek gaped silently at Meredith. "We were at a petting zoo," the boy explained. "It just went wild! It was crazy."

This job just got stranger by the day.


	2. Secret Santa

**Doc: Here's another edition. I always wondered what really happened with that Secret Santa Izzie mentioned during the Christmas episode. The last one's just a bit of fun being poked at the Chief, and the first is obviously what happens when doctors and snow are mixed.**

**DISCLAIMER: Still don't own Grey's Anatomy.

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**004. In the Meadow**

_Continuity: The first snow of any winter._

Forty-eight hour shifts left some exhausted. For others, like Doctor Cristina Yang, it left them energized and ready for more. But with the new eighty hour work week in full effect, she couldn't get away with sticking around the hospital all day. Or at least she couldn't stick around the_ inside_ of the hospital.

Seattle winters were almost the same as their springs, and summers, and falls. There was rarely a day when precipitation didn't fall from the sky, but now, with the temperatures dropping, snow fell instead of rain. Large flakes of snow were currently pelting the ground below, but Cristina didn't seem to mind. In fact, she was sprawled out on an icy bench seemingly ignoring the snowfall.

Her fellow interns, on the other hand, exited the hospital with an extra spring in their step. George was spinning around attempting to catch snowflakes on his tongue. Izzie had flopped down in the grass surrounding the entrance to the hospital and was making a snow angel. Cristina rolled her eyes lightly. It was strange to her that people who were so immature managed to become doctors in the first place, let alone surgeons.

She only looked up for a minute, and then lay back down, eyes closed. Cristina sprang up when a snowball connected with the side of her face, ice sliding down her cheek as she glared at the other three. "Meredith," she growled, getting to her feet. Meredith dashed behind George for cover as Cristina balled up a huge wad of snow.

"Hey, wait," George insisted, pushing Meredith away. She simply clung to his arm. "I didn't do anything! You hit her and you're gonna hit me!" Cristina shrugged.

"Tough luck, Bambi." She drew her arm back only to be distracted by Izzie, who was rolling a snowball the side of her head along the parking lot. Tilting her head slightly to the side Cristina changed aim. "You better not think of throwing that thing at me, Izzie. You'll be dead."

Izzie looked up, a frown crossing her face. "I'm not gonna _throw_ it at anyone. I'm building a snowman." It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to Izzie to make a snowman out of freshly fallen snow. George and Meredith seemed to agree with her, as they drifted off to help construct the snowperson. Cristina let her ammunition fall to the ground.

"Snowmen?" She muttered shaking her head slowly, watching her fellow interns piling their three snowballs on top of each other. George pulled some loose change out of his pocket and stuck them in for eyes. Meredith put her scarf around the snowman's neck. Izzie stood back to admire it, yanked a carrot from her pocket, and jammed it in as a nose.

"There," she stated proudly, after using a few rocks to make a smiling mouth.

"He needs arms," George pointed out, glancing about for twigs of some kind.

"And a hat." Meredith snatched George's from his head and plopped it onto the snowman. Izzie dug some spare buttons out from her jacket pocket and stuck them onto the snowman's chest. With a triumphant cracking noise George returned with two sticks of equal size and jammed them into the second snowball.

"He looks pretty good," Meredith commented, surveying the snowman. Cristina was hovering behind them, just outside of their little circle. A frown was set upon her lips and her head was still cocked to the side.

Again she repeated the word silently, "Snowmen?"

George nodded his approval. "Yeah. He really looks good with all of our combined stuff."

"He's the official intern snowman," Meredith declared with a light smile, tilting her head to stare at the snow falling upon them. Izzie stared at the 'official intern snowman' thoughtfully. They'd all added something, herself, George, and Meredith. Staring around the snowman, which had comically been named Doctor Snow by George, she found Cristina staring at them, almost as if they were insane.

"It's not really official unless all of us put something on it," Izzie murmured in an offhanded sort of way to Meredith and George, though she made sure Cristina could hear it. She shrugged lightly, strolling around the snowman to Cristina and giving her playful smile. "So, you gonna put something on it or what?"

Cristina just stood there, again staring from her three friends to the snowperson they'd created and back again. "I've never really made a snowman before." Meredith and Izzie exchanged glances.

"First time for everything," George chimed in as he threw a playful punch into Cristina's arm. Sensing her glare on him he backed away instinctively, slightly surprised when she edged toward the snowman and withdrew one of the only things she carried on her person, a stethoscope, and placed it around Doctor Snow's neck. She stepped back to stare at the snowman and somehow found herself smiling.

"Hey, that's perfect for the hospital," Meredith murmured. "Now he really looks like a doctor." At that very moment Alex had burst through the hospital doors into the biting cold. He cast the other interns a passing glance but stopped upon seeing their snowman. A smirk playing at his lips, he turned to them.

"Your snowman looks like the dude from geriatrics," he commented. Alex turned to walk away only to feel a cold slush hit his back. He glared at the others, not surprised to see Cristina holding another snowball ready. "You asked for it, Yang!" He chucked a snowball at her but she dodged, only to have it smash into the snowman. It had landed directly on the chest of the snowman, much to Alex's amusement.

Carrying the snowball he'd been about to throw at George he moved toward Doctor Snow and placed another snowball of equal size next to the first. He turned, grinning lightly. "Guess your snowman was really a snow_woman_ after all."

Now it was officially the intern snowman.

Er, snow_woman_.

**005. Secret Santa**

_Continuity: First Christmas; Season Two._

"I got myself again." They all groaned. It was twenty minutes after their shift had ended and it was the seventh time someone had gotten themselves in the Secret Santa drawing and the fifth time George had gotten himself. Izzie had cornered them all in the locker room and insisted they do it now because there were only ten more shopping days 'til Christmas. She said this all with such a huge grin on her face that it took all of Cristina's composure not to smack her.

Izzie simply gave her offhanded grin and shrug again and held out the scrub cap they'd been drawing from. "It's okay. We'll just go again." Alex was muttering under his breath, but she ignored him. Cristina was glaring at George as if he'd purposely picked his own name. Meredith was trying to keep them all from killing each other.

"Look, Izzie, why don't we just-" Meredith trailed off lamely at the sight of her friend's face falling. "-draw again." Cristina moaned as she plunged her hand into the cap. Alex followed, then Meredith, then George. They all backed up a bit to examine the small scraps of paper, everyone making eye contact. Izzie snatched her slip and stared at it for a long while.

"We have to draw again," she murmured dully. The others exchanged glances.

"Why?" Someone stated bluntly. "I didn't get myself this time!" George. Izzie was staring conveniently over his shoulder. "Izzie?" Her head snapped up at the sound of her name. Apparently she realized she'd temporarily lost her holiday cheer and plastered that grin on her face again.

"No reason. I was just kidding. Wanted to see if Cristina would actually kill you, George." He looked indignant though his eyes widened as Cristina nodded menacingly at him. "Remember, guys, gift exchange is Christmas Eve. And _no telling_! It's called Secret Santa for a reason."

Alex and Cristina shuffled out first. "Who'd you get?" He muttered out of the corner of his mouth. Cristina simply stared at him.

"I'm not telling you. What, you want her to make us draw again?"

GA

The hospital was always busy this time of year. Accidents increased almost triple the amount of other months, but mainly emergency room visits were made. People got scrapes and cuts and needed stitched up. So that's what most of the interns were doing, sutures. Meredith and Alex happened to be stitching up the same patient. He cast a cautious look around. Izzie was nowhere in sight. He leaned forward a bit and murmured, "So who'd you get for Secret Santa?"

Meredith glanced up, doing a quick scan of the room. The patient was staring at them. "None of your business." Alex gave a knowing smirk. "Don't worry. It's not you. George has you."

"What?"

She shrugged lightly. "Just what I heard."

Later, Alex found himself in the hallway with O'Malley, going over patient files. He leaned his weight against the nurses' station, jabbing George in the back with a chart. "What?"

"Who you got for Secret Santa?" George shot him a glance.

"No one. Why? You don't have me, do you?" The look of apparent shock in George's eyes was enough to amuse Alex at least somewhat.

"No. I hear Cristina does. She's going to get you a customized shirt that says 'Don't ask me about Meredith' on it." Alex then walked away, leaving a very bemused George behind him.

"Hey! Cristina!" She turned at the urgent voice. George. Arching a brow, she signaled for him to enter the patient's room. She was only checking vitals anyway.

"What?"

"Who do you have for Secret Santa?" He sounded strained, as if the answer was going to decide his fate. She gave him a funny glance before shrugging lightly.

"Meredith."

"No, you don't! I have Meredith!" Cristina smirked lightly. George groaned. "I can't keep a secret. This is too much pressure!"

"Don't worry, Bambi, I won't tell anyone."

"So," Alex muttered as he leaned over a case file. "Who you got for Secret Santa?" He was more then slightly startled when he was hit over the head by a chart. Whipping around on the prospect of telling Cristina off, he gave a startled intake of breath and took a step back. "Izzie..."

"You know the rules. No telling until Christmas Eve."

_Nine days later..._

"Come on, Izzie!" George sounded like a, well like a kid at Christmas. They were all sitting around the tree, drinking eggnog and hot cocoa, and the presents were just sitting there, staring them all in the face. "You've already made us sit through dinner, dessert, and this after-dinner drink session. Can't we open them now?"

"No," she responded simply, setting her mug on the table. "We still have to sing Christmas carols." There were varied reactions to this, from Alex's disgusted scowl to Meredith's half-smile half-grimace to George's disappointed stare. Cristina was the only one to speak.

"Listen, blondie, I'm tired, cranky, and I don't care about the meaning of Christmas. I just want to open my present and get out of here." Izzie stared at her and for a moment the other three were sure there was going to be a brawl under the Christmas tree. Then Izzie gave a wry smile.

"Kidding. Who wants to go first?" George's hand shot up. Izzie rolled her eyes lightly. "Fine, George, give your gift to your Secret Santa." His face fell.

"Hey, wait, I wanted to open mine first!"

Alex simply chuckled. "It is better to give then to receive, O'Malley." George shot him a glare before sifting through the small pile of gifts to retrieve a long box. Without looking at her he handed it over to Meredith, who gave a surprised smile. George cast Cristina a glance. She hadn't told her, in the spirit of the holidays he supposed.

"George? Really?" Meredith gave a laugh. "I thought Alex had me, what with his asking me who I had and all." The others shared glances while Alex stared at the star atop the tree to avert his gaze. Then Meredith tore into the brightly wrapped box and burst out laughing. "Thanks a lot, George. We really do need to keep some of this in the house." She laid a bottle of tequila and five shot glasses off to the side; they'd probably need them later.

"Alright," Izzie murmured, acting much like the coordinator of this event, "Now you give your gift to your Secret Santa." Grabbing a thin box wrapped in simple green paper she tossed it to Cristina on the couch. She gave a knowing sort of smile before tearing right into it and flinging the lid off of the box.

"Whoa, Mer..."

"Hold on, is that a ten blade? An _engraved_ ten blade?" Alex seemed shocked. Cristina shook her head.

"It's an eleven blade. I prefer an eleven blade. How'd you know?"

Meredith simply shrugged. "I know you."

Izzie gave Cristina a nod and she snatched a lopsided package that looked to be wrapped in newspaper at George. He barely got it, having to dive and almost knocking into the tree. With a sort of giddy grin he ripped off the newspaper. A comic book tumbled out. "You-I-it." It took him a moment to form a coherent sentence. "_How did you get issue number one of Batman?_"

Cristina simply shrugged. "I have my ways." All eyes were now on Izzie. With George having already given his gift, it was up to Alex or Izzie to keep the chain moving. But neither of them was looking up; they both seemed very interested in the floor. After all, with the gifts already been given it was quite clear that they had each other. Meredith nudged Cristina. She nodded slowly. "Ah, Alex?"

He nearly jumped. Snapping out of it he slid a small bow wrapped in shiny red paper to Izzie. She stopped it with her foot and picked it up, staring at it for a long moment. There was a green bow capping it, making it look very festive. She almost started pulling it off slowly, like she used to to save the paper, but thought better of it and tore it open, revealing a small white box. She shot Alex a glance before pulling the top off revealing a pair of earrings in the shape of candy canes. She didn't want to smile, but she did anyway. "Thanks, Alex..."

Everyone seemed to finally let out the breath they were holding in. Izzie grabbed the biggest box from under the tree and shoved it at Alex wordlessly, taking to staring at her earrings rather then look at him. He opened the present quickly and found a large box, like one you put clothes in. Izzie bought him clothes? Pulling the top off he found a green sweater. Alex stared at it for a long while before staring at Izzie. She bit her lip before standing up and exiting the room, muttering something about cookies in the oven.

"What was that about?" George muttered, clueless. Meredith elbowed him in the ribs.

Alex tucked the box under his arm and took off after her, finding her in the kitchen where she said she'd be. "Izzie-"

"I don't want to hear about it, Alex. Your gift was great and mine was crappy, but please, don't ruin this for me. It's Christmas, and I seriously don't need to hear any of your crap." He stood there, silent, for a long moment, waiting for her to turn around. She dumped a tray of cookies on the counter and glared at him, obviously irritated. "Well?"

"Well what?" Izzie simply strode past him. He grabbed her wrist. "Izzie, what are you talking about?"

She gestured to his box. "Don't even tell me you like that sweater."

"I don't like the sweater," he admitted. She shook her head in disbelief. "I love this sweater. You made it yourself, didn't you?" Alex held up the box and she stared at him. She didn't think he'd notice that much.

"I-_what_?"

"Didn't you knit this sweater?"

"Yeah..."

"I love this sweater." He pulled said sweater out of the box and pulled it over his head. "How's it look?" Izzie gave a light grin, still clutching her earrings in hand.

"Great. Very festive."

"Yeah." Alex noted they were standing in the doorway. He also noted that there was mistletoe hanging from the doorway. Izzie probably hadn't counted on his being around when she'd hung that there. "Know what else is festive?" She shrugged. "_Mistletoe_."

Her eyes widened in realization. Alex gave a smirk before placing a hand at her waist and leaning in, his lips brushing hers. She was shocked at first, but just as she began to lean into it he pulled away. It was a quick kiss, not like the ones they'd shared before. Apparently he respected her wanting to have space. "Merry Christmas, Izzie."

He then turned and exited the room. The front door shut behind him. When Cristina came wandering in looking for beer, she noticed Izzie's bemused expression. "What? Part two of your gift was sex?"

Well, it was Christmas after all.

**006. A Christmas Carol**

_Continuity: Second Christmas Season._

It had been a long day at the hospital and quite frankly he would have rather just gone to bed and slept it off. There had been seven fatalities that day, yes death apparently comes in seven, and the family of one of those patients was suing Seattle Grace. The last thing he wanted to do was sit down and eat dinner with his wife. But he would anyway, because he knew that was what Adele wanted.

He stepped inside and shed his heavy coat and hat. Inhaling deeply the Chief smelled his favorite dinner, mashed potatoes, gravy, turkey, and probably some assortment of vegetables. Sighing heavily he trudged into the kitchen, where his wife stood wearing a festive Christmas apron. "Richard!" She bellowed, shooing him away with her hands, "Get out of here! Dinner will be ready in only a minute." From experience, the Chief knew 'a minute' generally meant at least ten minutes.

Heaving a sigh he ignored the growling of his stomach and shuffled into the dining room. There his reading glasses and the newspaper sat, just how he liked it. Sliding into his leather-backed chair, he folded the newspaper to the sports section and settled down to read.

Of course, like it was inevitable that telemarketers always called during dinner, salesmen always came just when the Chief was going to read his paper. With a groan he rustled his paper irritably, expecting Adele to answer it. The doorbell rang once, twice, five times. He laid the paper flat and sighed heavily. "Adele!"

"Richard!" She shot back, obviously busy with dinner. "Get the door!" The Chief pulled his glasses off and left them on the table. Putting on what his interns knew as his angry face, he wrenched the door open.

"We don't want any!" He growled, slightly startled to find the very interns that knew his angry face so well standing at his door. Stevens, O'Malley, Grey, even Yang and Karev were there, singing away to 'Winter Wonderland'. He promptly slammed the door in their faces, though you could still clearly hear their voices through the door.

From the kitchen Adele called, "Richard! Aren't those your doctors singing out there?! Invite them in for dinner!"

Correction. The last thing he wanted to do was have dinner with his wife and his interns.

And he had come to the conclusion that he hated Christmas carols.


	3. Tradition

**Doc: Here's another. Three short ones. I'm particularly fond of the second and third, only because my friends and I have done both of those. Anyway, it's getting closer to Christmas. Hope you've all been good.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Grey's Anatomy. Okay, I don't own Santa Claus, either.

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**007. O Christmas Tree**

_Continuity: Any Christmas._

Izzie had insisted on a live tree. It just wasn't Christmas with a fake one, she'd said. It just wasn't the same. Besides, half the fun of a Christmas tree was picking it out. Apparently Izzie hadn't realized how bitterly cold it was in Seattle that day. Not that it mattered. She seemed to be having a good old time.

"Remind me why we're out here again," Meredith murmured through chattering teeth. Her arms were crossed over her frail body, which was wrapped in many layers. George was digging through the knee-deep snow with a shovel, attempting to make a path. Izzie was a goof three yards ahead of them, having pushed through the snow herself. George peered at her from beneath his hood.

"We're getting a Christmas tree." Meredith groaned.

"Yeah, I get that. But _why_?"

George was thoughtful for a moment. "Because...Izzie wants to?" She gave a hoarse laugh, shivering slightly. "And we're bonding." Bonding. That was a laugh. They were together twenty-four hours a day seven days a week. What did they need to bond for?

"Hey, George, still got that ax?" Izzie was at the top of the small hill they'd been scaling. He held the ax over his head triumphantly, swearing loudly when it slipped through his fingers and slid down the slope. Giving Meredith a sad glance, he headed back down the hill after it.

Meredith appeared at the point of the hill breathing heavily. "So, show me..." She paused, inhaling deeply and glancing about the tree farm. There were various other families about gathering their Christmas trees, but they were all down on flat land, nearly half a mile back toward the road. "Why we're up here..."

Izzie maneuvered around her to stand next to a tree that barely reached her waist. "Ta-da!" She declared, grinning from ear to ear. Meredith nearly fell back down the hill. They'd walked a half a mile for the perfect tree, and Izzie had selected the Charlie Brown Christmas tree? Seriously.

"Um, Izzie, are you _sure_ this is the right tree for us?" Izzie frowned slightly, examining the branches of the small tree and bending down to tap its trunk. "It seems kinda small."

"Size doesn't matter," Izzie declared just as George appeared alongside Meredith. He stared from Izzie to Meredith to the tree and back again.

"So where's the tree? Behind that little bush?" Izzie frowned.

"This _bush _is going to be the most beautiful Christmas tree you've ever seen." George glanced at Meredith. She shrugged. "Come on, guys. It's not the size of the tree that counts. It's what you do with it. Christmas is a time for family. Don't you think this tree deserves a family as much as any of the others?" George was slightly bemused as to why Izzie was talking about the tree as if it was a person.

"What about the tree we had last year?" Meredith questioned. "That was nice, right?"

"I liked that tree," George agreed. "It was nice and tall and smelled like a forest." Izzie pushed him closer to the little tree. He inhaled deeply. There was the same piney smell that the other tree had had.

"You'll see. This is going to be the perfect tree." Izzie nodded firmly and George cut the small tree down with only two swipes. They didn't even need the sled Izzie had dragged up here to carry it back. George carried it himself.

Back at the house, lights were covering the door, there was a wreath in the window, and now their little tree stood in the corner. It was covered in tinsel and ornaments, the colored lights twinkled back at them like blinking stars. Izzie stood back to admire their work and grinned lightly. "See. It's perfect."

George and Meredith had never seen such a small Christmas tree in their lives. They also had never seen a tree that small look so beautiful. It might have been small, but it fit somehow. Their family was small, and the tree just fit. That was all. "It's really not such a bad tree," Meredith murmured, adjusting a candy cane on one of the branches, "Once you fix it up a bit."

"Yeah," George murmured. "It's a nice tree. Good pick, Iz."

Izzie simply smiled as she crowned the small tree with their star. When she backed up Meredith and George were gone. "Guys? Where'd you go?"

"Down here," Meredith drawled.

"What're you doing?"

"Lights," George answered simply. Izzie shook her head slowly before lying down alongside them, heads beneath the tree.

Somehow, this became a tradition for them, picking out the perfect Christmas tree, and then admiring the lights. That was what families did, they had Christmas traditions.

They really were a family.

**008. The Perfect Gift**

_Continuity: Tucker's first Christmas._

"What're we gonna get Doctor Bailey?" George asked one December afternoon during lunch. The interns had been avoiding this all month, simply because no one knew what to get her. Doctor Bailey had her own family, sure, but the interns wanted to get her a gift. After all, she was like a mother to them.

"We could get her something for the kid," Alex murmured between bites with a shrug. According to him, you couldn't go wrong with something for the kid. The others shrugged lightly.

"What about a spa getaway?" Meredith nearly laughed at her own suggestion. Doctor Bailey didn't exactly seem like a spa kind of person.

"I say we get her a day off." They all turned to stare at Cristina. For once, that seemed almost considerate. She shrugged. "If she was gone, maybe we'd have a better chance to scrub in on a good surgery." That was Cristina for you.

Izzie sighed heavily. "Only one thing to do in this situation. We have to go out and shop. It's the only way to find something." There were irritated protests from Alex and Cristina, but George seemed indifferent. Meredith wasn't against shopping. They hadn't really been to a mall in a while.

"You think we could maybe go to a mall?" Meredith murmured. "I haven't been to one in a long time." George and Izzie murmured their agreement. Even Cristina and Alex nodded. In a mall, at least, they might be able to slip away.

When they all had the day off on Saturday, they got in one car and drove to the mall. The ride over had been a disaster, what with the holiday traffic and Cristina cussing out every other driver, and the hassle of finding a parking space had left everyone in ill spirits. When they walked in the door only to pass Santa and his elves with a massive line of children, it only seemed to get better.

"You think Doctor Bailey took Tuck to see Santa?" George mused as the shuffled past.

"Yeah," Alex answered shortly, "And she had him ask for a ten blade, too."

"All right, we should probably split up," Izzie stated after a long while of examining the mall map. "If you see anything Doctor Bailey might like, call on our cell phones. George, you and Alex go that way. We'll go this way." George looked absolutely pissed about having to shop with Alex, and Cristina looked like she would much rather sit on Santa's lap.

As Alex and George walked away, there was the definite murmur of "What does Doctor Bailey like?" from George.

Three hours and no success later, it was quite clear that none of them had any idea what Doctor Bailey liked. They were tired, hungry, and dragging their feet out the entrance they'd come in when Meredith noticed something. "Santa looks very alone," she pointed out. The line of children was nearly gone. Cristina checked her watch.

"Yeah, that's because it's 8:30. All the kiddies are probably in bed by now." The five had stopped to stare at old St. Nick and his elf. George was staring at him with an almost longing look in his eyes.

"Remember when you believed in Santa? Remember how magical that was?" A collective sigh. "Things seemed so simple back then."

"And magical," Izzie added. "Everything was magic on Christmas."

"When did...you guys stop believing in Santa?" Meredith was the one to propose the question. Silence answered her at first. "I was ten," she offered. The others exchanged glances.

"I was nine," Cristina admitted. "The year I didn't get my stethoscope."

"Ten," Izzie responded with a shake of her head. "All I wanted was that Easy Bake Oven..."

George gave a sheepish smile. "I was eleven, and it was Battleship." All eyes turned to Alex, who had remained silent throughout the entire conversation. Izzie nudged him and he stared at her. She stared expectantly back.

"I was three. Some kid on the playground told me. I still got everything I wanted. It just wasn't...magical anymore." The other four seemed to take a moment of silence at the loss of Alex's innocense.

"Three?" George repeated. Alex nodded. "You were so young."

Meredith gave a wistful sigh. "I haven't sat on Santa's lap since I was five."

"I never sat on Santa's lap," Cristina muttered. "It always creeped me out." Izzie's face lit up.

"I think I know what we can get Doctor Bailey..."

GA

"Doctor Bailey!" It was Christmas Eve, she was tired, and the last thing she wanted to deal with was her interns.

"What?" She snapped, slightly surprised when not only Grey, but all the rest of them gathered around her at the nurses' station. She'd just been about to leave and nearly threw her keys across the room, suspecting an emergency.

"Merry Christmas," Izzie greeted, that grin of hers on her face. Doctor Bailey glanced around. They were all smiling, well Karev was smirking, but that was Alex.

"What are you up to? You know I didn't buy you anything."

"We know," Meredith waved this off.

"But we got you something." George nudged Alex. He handed Doctor Bailey a thin package wrapped in metallic paper. She stared at it cautiously for a moment before ripping it open, revealing a five by ten photo.

"We know you probably already have one, with your son," Cristina muttered. Doctor Bailey was staring at the picture.

"You interns are crazy." She held the picture up and shook her head slowly. "You really went to the mall and paid for this?" They all nodded slowly. Doctor Bailey shook her head. "You all really know how to find the perfect gift. Thank you."

The next day, that picture was hanging in Doctor Bailey's locker. Her five interns were gathered around Santa Claus, Cristina on his lap, Izzie and George behind his chair, Meredith on the arm of the chair, and Alex sitting in front of him. This picture was accompanied by a photo of Tucker with Santa Claus.

Her children's first Christmas.

**009. Tradition**

_Continuity: Any Christmas after the First._

Christmas dinner had always been a tradition. In every family, there was that perfect holiday meal that usually consisted of turkey and mashed potatoes, a special pie baked from scratch. It was never that way for the interns of Seattle Grace.

Meredith's mother hadn't been around, even during Christmas. Most of the time she had to cook herself Christmas dinner. Her tradition was TV dinners, one for herself, and one waiting for her mother. But her mother always got home passed midnight to a cold TV dinner. The second one was never eaten.

George's family tradition was hunting. They always hunted for their meals. On Thanksgiving, they killed a turkey. On Christmas, they killed a dear. The irony of the entire thing was his nickname, Bambi. Every Christmas, after his brothers had tied the deer to the roof of the car, he couldn't help but think about the poor baby fawn it was probably leaving behind.

For Cristina, there was no Christmas dinner. Growing up, her stepfather was Jewish. They had the traditional potato pancakes and matzoh balls. On Christmas, they generally went to the movies while the other families celebrated Christmas. Stale popcorn was her Christmas dinner.

Alex never really liked Christmas. His family has issues, simple as that. On Christmas, though, they'd all put on an act for the relatives. There'd be a turkey and pumpkin pie, and they'd all exchange gifts. But somewhere between the first glass of wine and the second, there would always be a fight. Their Christmas dinner, while traditional, was an act.

Izzie grew up in a trailer park with her mother. There, they had a different sort of tradition. Everyone would make a dish, from stuffed chicken to her mother's baked goods, and they'd all bring them to the recreation building in the center of the trailer park. There, she and her neighbors, the only family she had every really known, shared Christmas dinner. It was different, but it was tradition.

And tradition stuck.

With families, tradition was almost as strong as the bonds of blood themselves. Traditions were the glue that held families together. All families had traditions. But when the interns left their families, those traditions seemed irrelevant. They were starting fresh, with a new family and a new set of rules.

The first rule was simple. No traditions.

It was barely eight o'clock p.m. and yet they were all sprawled out across the furniture in the den, some on the floor. Empty liquor bottles littered the ground. No one said it was illegal to drink on Christmas. The five of them were lounging about listening to 'A Christmas Story' with eyes closed. The interns were simply at peace. Nothing could break them from it.

Except a doorbell. A groan. Cristina pushed herself up from the couch before falling back onto it with a heavy sigh. "Why'd you order take-out anyway?"

"Apparently some people besides surgeons work on Christmas," Meredith answered dully, dragging herself to her feet and making her way toward the door. Izzie had perked up at the smell of food, poking her head out from underneath the Christmas tree.

"What'd you get?" She called, looking to the others for answers.

"Chinese," Meredith replied, still in the hallway and paying the delivery boy.

George groaned. "Again? We had Chinese last year."

Alex shrugged, tossing a pillow at George. "Who cares? At least it's food."

George chucked the pillow back at him. "Stop it."

"Would you two stop fighting? It's childish." Cristina rolled her eyes lightly. "You're like brothers." The two fell silent, conveniently looking in opposite directions. Izzie smirked.

"Well, we are family."

Meredith appeared with the Chinese food in hand. "Yeah, all families have traditions. Ours is Chinese food on Christmas."

Christmas was for families.

Families had traditions.

So, the interns had traditions.

That's just how it was.


	4. Politically Correct

**Doc: So, there was this whole news article about Christmas trees being on display in an airport but no giant menorahs. That's what spurred 'Politically Correct'. The second one, well I always wondered why Derek and Addison loved Christmas. In my world, this is why. The last one is just because I like Alex-and-Meredith talks. **

**And, for the record, the couples I've written about in these ficlets aren't even those I support. Consider that a gift to all you cannon-shippers out there.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Grey's Anatomy. Or Christmas. Thought I'm thinking of stealing Christmas this year.**

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**010. Politically Correct  
**_Continuity: Any Holiday Season after the First._

It wasn't uncommon for them to meet here. It had all started with coffee. Starbucks might not have been Seattle's Best, but it was a chain store. And because they were meeting in a mall, for God knows what reason, Cristina had gravitated here. Caffeine was like oxygen for a surgeon. She'd come to acknowledge this statement as fact.

She stood sipping at her cappuccino, staring passed the large display where Santa Claus was taking pictures with children toward the entrance he'd told her to wait at. Cristina really hoped Burke could figure out where she was. She didn't really want to walk through the throng of holiday shoppers again. It had taken all of her patience just to get to the coffee shop without killing anybody.

Her eyes reflected the large silver bulbs hanging from the ceiling, the tinsel decorating every store window. Cristina wasn't a Christmas person. It was just how her family was. They celebrated Chanukah. That was it. And quite frankly, eight nights of presents seemed a hell of a lot better then one day of happiness and cheer. Not that Cristina really took the entire faith part of the holiday into account. She wasn't really Jewish, but Jewish by marriage. Which didn't really count.

Bringing the cup of steaming coffee to her lips, Cristina caught him hurrying toward her from the opposite side of the mall. She smirked lightly as Burke evaded a woman bent on finding that blue light special in Housewares. He dodged a group of boys on roller blades and finally ended up beside her, hands in his jacket pocket. "'tis the season," he commented dully, eyes following the line of Christmas trees leading to a theme store.

She wordlessly handed him a cup of coffee, to which he gratefully accepted. After taking a long sip from his cup he turned to her, a thoughtful sort of frown upon his lips. "Why don't you celebrate Chanukah anymore?" Cristina simply shrugged, maneuvering into the lane of fast-walking shoppers. Burke followed.

"Why aren't there any giant menorahs decorating the mall along with the Christmas trees?" Burke had no answer to her question, so instead remained silent. "I'm not really Jewish."

He shook his head slowly. "Your family was Jewish. By default, you are Jewish." She shrugged lightly. Burke gave a heavy sigh. "I don't know why there aren't any menorahs on display," he admitted. "There should be."

She offered him a small smile. Burke always knew the right thing to say. "Why do they always say 'happy holidays' on TV instead of 'Merry Christmas?'"

"To be politically correct."

"I don't celebrate Chanukah because I'm not politically correct."

**011. Why They Love Christmas**

_Continuity: Christmas Eve; twelve years ago._

She couldn't understand why he wanted to meet her in Central Park on the coldest day of the year. Sure, it was Christmas Break and they had all the time in the world for quality time, but it was New York, and it was freezing. Bundled up in a long black jacket, a scarf, and gloves, Addison Montgomery heaved a sigh. She checked her watch. Why was she out in Central Park at 11:45 p.m. on Christmas Eve?

Because she'd do anything for Derek, she admitted to herself. Mentally she cursed herself for admitting such a thing. She wasn't even sure she loved Derek. She only knew he was always there for her. He was there when she'd forgotten to study for that Anatomy final and he was there when she had the flu. He was always there for her, and she was sure he'd never hurt her.

Addison inhaled deeply, watching with amusement as the air around her turned foggy with each intake of breath she took. Suddenly she noticed another cloud of fog very close to her own. Someone else was breathing quite close to her. Eyes closed as he rested his head on her shoulder, Addison simply sighed. "You're late."

"Sorry, Addie," Derek cooed into her ear. She shivered slightly, and not because of the cold, either. She was shivering simply because Derek was near. And that, while being a sign, kind of irritated her. He was late. She should be mad at him. And yet, when he wrapped an arm around her waist, she nearly melted into him. "I had to make a quick stop on the way here. I got here as soon as I could."

She barely registered his excuse before he buried his face into her neck. Addison turned her head lightly. Derek wasn't wearing a hat or gloves. He was dressed in only jeans and a sweatshirt. She knew was potentially setting herself up for another of Derek's traps, but she found she didn't really care. Lifting her scarf slightly in question, she watched the grin spread across his face.

He unwrapped the scarf a bit, wrapping it so it was around both of their necks. They were standing rather close together now, his arm still looped around her waist. "You know I'm not really cold.I could never be cold around you." Addison groaned mentally. She had set herself up. She may have groaned mentally, but on the outside she was laughing. She was laughing that girlish laugh the highschool girl did whenever the hot kid across from you spoke to you. Oh, God.

"All right, Derek," Addison murmured trying to ignore the fact that he was nuzzling against her cheek. It was kind of hard, though, with those eyes of his it was hard to avoid his gaze. "Why'd you want to meet here of all places? And why now?"He straightened up a bit, staring out over the frozen stream they were standing over. He leaned his weight against the bridge wall, pulling her with him.

"Central Park is beautiful in December," Derek responded simply, as if that was enough of an excuse. And for a brief moment, Addison accepted that as his answer. After all, it was Christmas. And Christmas was for families. They had both been doing the family thing earlier that evening, and tomorrow was Christmas. He was flying out to Chicago with Mark to see his mother. She was heading back to Manhattan. Tonight was their last chance for quality time, and she wasn't going to miss out on it.

"Christmas is for families," she found herself mumbling. Derek tilted his head slightly to one side. He turned to her, tucking a stray lock of red hair behind her ear. He cupped her chin to keep her gaze locked on him.

"Christmas makes you want to be with people you love." Somehow, just by his eyes, she knew what Derek was going to say before it happened. Amid the snow and slush he bent down on one knee, his frozen and blue colored hand in both of her gloved ones. He pulled out a small white box and opened it, revealing a golden ring set with a small diamond, probably all he could afford at the moment. "I love you, Addie. Will you marry me?"

Despite the biting cold, despite the fact that it was definitely below zero outside, Addison felt very warm inside. She felt warm and tingly, in a good kind of way. Derek had just slipped that question into conversation as if talking about the weather, and he was still bent down and staring up at her expectantly. She knew her mouth was probably hanging open, and it was around that time that her brain processed what he had just said. Addison grinned lightly, finally realizing she should probably answer his question._ "_Yes," she breathed, finally letting out the breath she'd been holding in.

Derek grinned back at herbefore yanking off the glove of her left hand and slipping the ring onto her finger. She admired it for a moment as he stood up, the knee of his jeans stained wet from the snow. So this was the pit stop he'd had to make. Addison leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her, staring out at the small stream below and the frozen fields. It had been cold, but it hadn't snowed yet.

From far away they heard the chime of a clock striking midnight. At that exact moment, a single snowflake fell from the sky, landing on Derek's head. He blinked, glancing at Addison for a moment before the sky opened up, snow falling from all directions. It was Christmas, and it was snowing. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. She kissed back.

It was Christmas and it was snowing. And they were kissing on the bridge in Central Park. And they were getting married.

That's why they love Christmas.

**012. Why They Aren't Into Christmas**

_Continuity: Any Christmas._

Unlike store managers or salesmen, surgeons couldn't just take a break on holidays. Christmas was a day, just like any other, and as such people always got hurt. The hospital had to stay open, and there had to be doctors on-call or on duty. But even personal injuries seemed to want to take a break on Christmas. This year, at least, there weren't as many emergency room visits.

Which, in retrospect, kind of sucked.

Christmas was for families. It was as simple as that. She didn't have any family, really, besides this hospital. Her mother was incoherent, and even if she could understand her, she probably wouldn't have gone to see her, not today. Christmas was never the same after her dad had left. In fact, Christmas had never been the kind of happy, magical day other children dreamed about. For Meredith Grey, Christmas was just another day.

For Alex, Christmas meant interacting with a group of relatives he never saw any of the 364 days of the year. It was a day to act happy and carefree, but he never was. He hadn't believed in Santa Claus since before he was three years old. His parents didn't take a vacation from fighting during the holidays. Why should he take a break from being the real man of the house? Exactly. For Alex Karev, Christmas was just another day.

It wasn't much of a surprise to Doctor Bailey when those two had volunteered to work over Christmas. They had been around for Thanksgiving, and quite frankly the rest of her interns were happy that they wouldn't be drafted to work on Christmas day. Of course, she wagered the pair of them had been hoping for some cool procedures to scrub in on. They hadn't bargained on sitting on the floor of a hallway re-doing post-op forms.

But even so, Meredith and Alex didn't seem to mind it. She would copy the charts down. He'd sort them into piles. They worked well together, even on such a trivial task. "So," Alex had murmured after the large stack of forms they'd been filling out had vanished, "Why are you here?"

Meredith shrugged. "Same reason you are. I work here." He stared at her. She stared back. A sigh. "Christmas is for family. Everyone else -George, Izzie, Cristina- they went back home for Christmas. I don't have anyone to go back to." Meredith paused, averting her gaze to the floor. "Besides, Christmas and I don't exactly have the best memories."

Alex was silent for a moment, tapping his pen against the ground. Meredith made to stand up, possibly to go wallow in her own self-pity, but he spoke, keeping her in place hovering above him. "Yeah. Well, my family is spread out all across the country. If I went to see one of them, I'd have to see them all. And I don't want to deal with that. Besides, you're not the only one with a Dark and Twisty Christmas past."

He offered her one of his rare smiles. She grinned back. Alex stood, stretching his arms over his head. "Wanna go get a beer?"

Meredith sighed slightly, trailing him down the hallway. "Maybe a hot chocolate instead..."


	5. The Christmas List

**Doc: Alright, I'm officially on Christmas Break now, so that means another update. Yay for Doc, right? I'm fond of the second because we still leave cookies for Santa every Christmas Eve...and the third one actually contains an excercize our English teacher had us do back in seventh grade. Enjoy.**

**DISCLAIMER: Doc does not own Grey's Anatomy.

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**013. Forgiveness**

_Continuity: Christmas post episode ten of Season Three._

It had been a long day. People were stupid around the holidays. They were like magnets, attracted to anything covered in ice and snow. And then they fell, broke their bones, and got sent in to her. And quite frankly Doctor Torres was sick of the stupidity of man. Actually, scratch that, she was sick of the stupidity of men. One man in particular happened to be on the forefront of her mind. But then again, when was George _not_ on Callie's mind?

He wasn't supposed to be there now. They were fighting. Well, he was fighting. Or they weren't fighting, but they weren't made up yet, either. It was a very complicated situation for both parties. Right now, after a very long shift with the Christmas-happy intern, yes, she'd spent the day with Izzie, Callie just wanted to sleep.

Instead, she was sitting in the dark in one of the offices, the computer aglow with a screen saver as she searched about for a certain case file. There was something she needed to check on. Just as Callie bent down to retrieve the file, which had ended up on the ground, there was a knock at the door. With a groan and a roll of her eyes, she yanked the door open.

"What?" She growled, obviously annoyed. But there was no one there. Just as she went to close the door, she noticed an envelope lying at her feet. Whoever it had been had shoved this into the crack between the door and the floor. She snatched the envelope, labeled with her name, and tore it open. A card tumbled out, simple with a picture of a Christmas tree on the front. It bore the message 'Merry Christmas' in alternating green and red letters.

Callie arched a brow before opening the card. The generic already-written message was accompanied by a hasty scribbling of 'Doctor O'Malley'. She could see he'd written 'George' first, but crossed it out about a million times. If she held it up and looked at it from the back, she could just make out his name. Shaking her head slowly she dropped the card on the desk and bent down to retrieve her case file again.

This time, she was distracted by something else. Callie picked the file up and dropped it on the desk. Lying on the ground, just where she had been standing when reading George's generic Christmas card, was a piece of paper with very familiar handwriting. She was reluctant to pick it up, not knowing what to expect. But eventually, curiosity got the better of Doctor Torres, and she snatched the note from the floor.

It read:

_Callie,_

_I didn't really know how to talk to you. I wanted to, don't get me wrong because I seriously wanted to talk to you. But I didn't know what to say. Writing a letter seemed so much simpler. But then there was the issue of how to get the letter to you. So I waited 'til Christmas because, well, I could just put it in a card. And you don't have to respond by a card. I just didn't know what to say. _

_Anyway- the point is I wanted to talk to you. I've missed you, and it's taught me one thing. I don't really know how to explain how I feel, those three words and I just don't have a very good relationship with each other. But I know that in our time apart, I've missed you. I hope you've missed me, too. I've come to the conclusion that I don't really know what love is, but if what you and I had before was anything close to love then I think I like it. Love I mean. I've always liked you. _

_-George_

Callie blinked slightly. Even in writing he ended up tripping over his words. That was so George. And as much as she had been angry at him, as much as he'd hurt her, and as much as she'd hurt him, she did miss him. She bit her lip slightly before swinging her jacket on over her scrubs and exiting the room, leaving her open case file -and the Christmas card- on the desk.

She was relieved to find him just pulling a hat over his head down on the bottom half of the surgical floor. "O'Malley!" She called from the stairs as she took them two at a time. George flinched slightly at the angry tone of her voice. Maybe that letter hadn't been such a good idea.

"Doctor Torres," he stated dully, keeping his gaze steadily on his shoes. "Something wrong?"

Callie was quiet for a moment before shaking her head slowly. "Nothing's wrong. In fact, I came to thank you for that Christmas card you slipped under the door." His face turned a light shade of pink as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Oh, that." He paused, bringing his gaze up to meet hers. "You did get the rest of it, didn't you?" George sounded annoyed for a moment; if she hadn't even read the letter, she would think he was a huge jerk. He hadn't even signed that card with his name.

"Yeah, I did." Her voice contained very little if any emotion. George studied her for a moment, trying to figure out if she was accepting his note as the forgiving truce in their relationship, or if she was about to start yelling at him. In the end, he couldn't take the silence, and decided to break it himself.

"Sorry I didn't give it to you in person. I didn't want to bother you."

"Hey, George?"

"Yeah?"

"I missed you, too." Callie was smiling now, which of course got him smiling. He debated how to react to this, but as they hadn't really been together for a good few weeks at least, he simply slipped his hand into hers, satisfied when she squeezed it slightly.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a clearing of a throat. George looked up, stunned, to find Izzie standing above them leaning over the railing, dangling a piece of mistletoe. George was mortified for the moment, vowing to kill Izzie when he got home. He and Callie had just come to an agreement of forgiveness and now she had to come along and ruin it. George was going to-

Callie leaned in and kissed him deeply, one hand entangled in his hair. She pulled back after a long while, a sort of glint in her eye. "Wanna come back to my place for some cocoa?"

He needed to remember to thank Izzie, and her mistletoe, tomorrow.

**014. Milk for Santa.**

_Continuity: Any Christmas._

Izzie loved Christmas. Izzie loved baking. It was no surprise, then, when she spent the entirety of Christmas Eve covering their kitchen in various styles of Christmas cookies. Containers of sweets lined the kitchen counters. Everything from simple chocolate chip to some complex, Internet recipe style was there. And Izzie had just finished her last batch.

Throwing her apron onto the ground she grabbed a plate and filled it with various types of cookies, one of six different kinds. Izzie shuffled to the refrigerator and pulled out the milk, poured a glass, and returned the milk to its rightful place. She then took the plate of cookies and the milk into the den, and left them on the table.

George witnessed this through tired eyes, almost convinced he was imagining things. "What are you doing?" He questioned, leaning his weight against the railing as he looked down at her from the stairs.

Izzie blinked. "Leaving milk and cookies for Santa." She said it with a straight face, as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

"Oh," he answered rather lamely. "Why?"

Izzie shrugged. "It's just what you do on Christmas Eve, that's all." She scaled the steps quickly, moving passed him before he even had the chance to turn around. "'Night," she called cheerfully, before disappearing into her room. As he shuffled back into his own room, George vaguely wondered if he would get his bed to himself tonight, or if Izzie or Meredith would come wandering in at 3 a.m. again.

Meredith pushed the door open somewhere past midnight. She wasn't sure of the exact time, but she knew it had crossed over from being Christmas Eve to Christmas Day. Dropping her keys on the ground she heaved a sigh. Even though she'd never seen a spinal reconstruction up close before, she wasn't quite sure what had possessed her to stay and watch one on Christmas Eve.

Oh, right. Derek had been the surgeon. Not that that had anything to do with why she stayed. She was an intern. She needed the experience. Dammit, she couldn't lie to herself while sober. She needed tequila.

Or, she reasoned as she wandered into the den, freshly baked cookies. Plopping onto the couch she snatched a cookie, a gingerbread man, and bit off its head. Chewing thoughtfully she practically inhaled the rest of the cookie, moving to drain the glass of milk sitting alongside the plate of cookies. Meredith reached for another cookie, but her hand recoiled at the sound of a throat clearing. Looking up, she found George staring blankly at her, and she gave a feeble smile. "Hi."

"Hey," he answered dully, coming down the stairs and flopping down next to her. He grabbed a cookie, the very one she had wanted, and popped the entire thing into his mouth. Swallowing hard, George spoke. "What are you doing down here?"

"Eating cookies," she answered simply, breaking off a chunk of another. "Because I'm on an after-surgery high." George studied her for a moment, as if deciding if she was truly on an after-surgery high or an after-sex high. After eating another cookie he decided it was surgery. She wasn't wearing that stupid grin she always had after sex.

"You know," George started watching as Meredith took her third cookie, "Izzie left these for _Santa_." He said it slowly, as if trying to imply something. Meredith finished off her cookie and turned to him.

"George, Izzie's a big girl. It's about time she learned that Santa Claus isn't real." She pushed the plate toward him. "Here, have the last one." George stared at the lone cookie for a moment before seizing it, and biting off a large chunk. Upstairs, an alarm clock had just gone off and seconds later Izzie arrived on the landing of the stairs, staring the two of them down.

"This," she stated pointing at George who was holding half a cookie up in surrender and Meredith who still had a milk mustache, "Is why I still leave cookies for Santa." Izzie walked into the room and sat down in front of the tree. She began handing out presents but paused, turning to glance over her shoulder.

"But usually I expect to eat at least _one_ of those cookies..."

**015. The Christmas List.**

_Continuity: A Christmas Season after Season Three._

"What are you doing, Yang?" Cristina barely looked up at Doctor Bailey as she spoke. She was far too consumed in the task at hand to be paying attention to her Resident, let alone be running around trying to get the best cases. In fact, she downright ignored Doctor Bailey. "_Cristina_!"

"What?" She snapped in irritation, glancing up from the paper she'd been scribbling on and apparently losing all concentration. "I was kind of in the middle of something."

"Yeah? You're supposed to be in the middle of rounds. Move!" Cristina slowly stood up, glancing over the paper once more. "What are you doing that's so important that you aren't trying to get your dirty little paws on the best case anyway?" Doctor Bailey reached out and swiftly snatched the piece of paper from her intern, much to Cristina's surprise. Doctor Bailey's eyes moved swiftly across the paper before she lifted it downward, staring blankly at Cristina. "Yang, what the hell is this?"

Cristina was in shock. No one ever took things from her before, at the risk of death. But Doctor Bailey was her superior. What was she supposed to do? Knock out her boss? Yeah, and get kicked out the program. No way. "My Christmas list," she mumbled feebly.

"Your Christmas list," Doctor Bailey echoed, obviously somewhat disturbed. "I thought you were Jewish?"

"I am," Cristina replied dully. "But people still buy me stuff. I might as well give them some idea of what to get me." Doctor Bailey simply stared at her. "What?"

"Is that what you think these holidays are all about?" Cristina shrugged. "What about all those people that buy stuff for you, what about your friends? Did you ever think of asking them what they'd like for Christmas?" Cristina shook her head slowly. "Well, maybe you should." Doctor Bailey then began to walk away, Cristina at her heels.

The Resident turned on her heel, eyes wide and a scowl set on her face. "And where do you think you're going?"

Cristina pointed out the locker room toward the surgical floor. "Rounds?"

Then Doctor Bailey did something very strange. She laughed. "No. You're going to sit right there and write another list." Her intern stared back at her rather blankly, as if doubting her sanity. "You're going to make a list of all the people you come into contact with every day, and what you're going to buy them for Christmas." Doctor Bailey shoved the paper back at the intern and turned to leave. As an afterthought, she cast a glance over her shoulder. "And Yang? Don't even _think_ about trying to get in on a case until I approve that list."

Cristina sighed heavily before straddling a bench. The first part was easy. Write a list of people.

_Meredith_

_George_

_Izzie_

_Alex_

_Burke_

_Shepherd_

_Montgomery_

_Bailey_

Now came the hard part. She sat there for a long while, tapping her pen against the bench. Slowly, ideas began to form. It was easy, almost, to decide what to buy for the other interns. They bonded, they were friends, or whatever. The others it was slightly more complicated.

The list now read:

_Meredith- Liquor for the house_

_George- That stupid comic book he wants_

_Izzie- Seriously? She has eight million dollars. The will to spend that money_

_Alex- Izzie_

_Burke- New scrub caps (not that he needs them)_

_Shepherd- Meredith_

_Montgomery- A man. Or a drink. Or a massage. Or a drunken massage by a man._

_Bailey_-

Cristina paused, looking over the list briefly. To her, it made perfect sense. Of course, it wasn't like Bailey was going to accept this. But it wasn't as if she particularly cared. Hurriedly scribbling something down she nearly sprinted from the locker room, and shoved the list in Doctor Bailey's face. "Here." She began to walk away on the prospect of finding some kind of case to get working on.

Doctor Bailey frowned at the list.

_Meredith- Liquor for the house_

_George- That stupid comic book he wants_

_Izzie- Seriously? She has eight million dollars. The will to spend that money_

_Alex- Izzie_

_Burke- New scrub caps (not that he needs them)_

_Shepherd- Meredith_

_Montgomery- A man. Or a drink. Or a massage. Or a drunken massage by a man._

_Bailey_- _Christmas Spirit_

Shaking her head slowly, Doctor Bailey disposed of the list. Apparently, that exercise hadn't exactly worked.


End file.

Grey's Anatomy