Grey's Anatomy Howl

**I have a problem. Well, I have more than one, but the one I'm talking about is that whenever I get stressed, my creative drive gets going and rather insistent. I wrote this at one in the morning, which wouldn't be a problem, except it's finals week right now. I kind of threw the story together, but it's been on my list for a very long time.**

**This is based on the song "Howl" by Johnny Flynn. And honestly, if I had to choose a song for Alex Karev, it would be this one.**

**I continue to own nothing.

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There is no such thing as happiness for Alex Karev; there is only survival. He had grown up too young too fast. Happiness isn't an option.

The first time he had felt a stirring of happiness, he had gotten Izzie to agree to go out with him. And like that lasted long. That was more trouble than it was worth. He liked her too much. Inside he's still that same ten year old who was old enough to know what was going on and too young to do anything. He still feels that same helpless feeling whenever something becomes bigger than him.

He hates that ten year old, almost more than he hates his father. Maybe more. He should have done something, anything. He could have. He should have. Maybe if he had, he wouldn't have a mother too far gone to recognize her own children. Maybe his sister wouldn't be working her way through school. There are a lot of maybes and Alex hates all of them.

It doesn't take much for him to hear the maybes at night, but if he's really quiet, he can hear the screams.

He'd never admit to it, but he sleeps with the hall light on. If you were to ask about it, he would claim that it was so he could find his way to the bathroom in the early morning. He'd never say that if it gets dark enough, he thinks he's ten years old, lying awake, waiting to clean up his mother's blood.

He lives in perpetual doubt. Not that he'd ever admit to that either. But just because he won't say it doesn't mean it's not true. He's not good enough for anything or anyone.

It's only since coming to Seattle Grace that he's started to question that notion. After all, it was a fresh start and he _did _get into the program. Seattle—away from Iowa and crazy mothers and exhausted sisters and absent fathers. No one in Washington has to know what he's dealing with. Here, he can just be another jackass instead of the guy with issues.

And that works for awhile. Izzie is more than content to write off his indiscretion as further proof of his manwhore ways. She doesn't need to know of the bridges he'd taken a lighter and gasoline to.

But now Alex has a problem. He was more than content to let Izzie think that his mother raised him wrong. After all, she probably did. (No, that wasn't fair. His mother did her best. Her best wasn't good enough. It ran in the family.) Here, he was Alex Karev without a past. No home, no family, just an angry temper and an inability to keep it in his pants.

Nobody ever stopped to think that maybe he runs through those women because he can't let them get close enough to see his potential, his _talent_, for destruction.

Alex's problem appears in the form of his boss. The redhead. From day one, he was attracted to her. That was practically a given—he was a manwhore and she knew how to work a skirt. And he was fine with that. He could do fantasy, he could do flirting, hell, he could do a one-night stand.

But they _didn't _sleep together. She was faithful to her failing marriage, the captain that goes down with the ship. And he knew that even if he were to try to seduce her she'd shoot him down so quickly he'd think it was the work of the government.

So he watched. He watched, partially with the detachment of a spectator at a sport that he barely cares about but partially with the predatory patience of a stalking carnivore.

But the more he watched, the closer they became. Number one rule of the jungle: don't befriend your prey.

And suddenly, faster than he imagined possible, he _cared _again. Somehow her presence had gone from a sexual pleasure to a genuine joy. Her smile made him happy; her approval made him puff up with pride. And the happiness made him stupid. He hinted at bloodshed and violence and at overcoming odds. He _hinted _at things to her. _Alluded _to them, as if he wanted her to dig. And that wasn't okay.

He realizes it too late. By the time he understands that she has some innate insight that he had allowed to be imparted, she's got his face in her hands and her lips on his and he's too caught up in her kiss to remember that this is just another bridge that needs to be burned.

He is Alex Karev and he has no family. He has no home and he has no past. He has no legacy. And he can't let her be caught up in that.

So he lies. Lying comes easily to him. He's been lying for his family, for his friends, for himself, making excuses, for as long as he can remember. He can almost convince himself that his words are true. And he's damn convincing when he says he doesn't want her. The lost piece of him—the mature, strong part that he hasn't seen in years—wishes that she could see through it. But she is not a human lie detector and she believes him. He walks away from her grimly. He was never one to take pride in his handiwork. So he just leaves her there in the ashes and wreckage of a charred bridge and tries not to look back.

Except she rebuilds it. She rebuilds the freaking bridge and he's powerless to stop her. And that ten year old boy, he gets scared. No, he's terrified. If she can pry his gates open, tear his walls down, build bridges and create connections, there will be nothing to stop her from discovering the truth—that inside Alex Karev is a caged, wounded animal, but nothing ever worth loving.

So once again, he strikes out. She gets too close and he responds. He does his very best to destroy her because if she's destroyed, she can't destroy him. It's purely survival instinct.

He's successful and he watches her walk away, a harsh satisfaction coursing through his veins. There. Now she'll never have to know what he could do to her, what complete horror he's capable of. And better yet, she can never, ever tear down walls that weren't hers to tear down in the first place.

She leaves Seattle soon after and he downplays his role in that. She simply wanted a change. She wanted away from the shambles of life she had barely managed to cobble together. He was hardly a part of that life.

But she returns. Again and again she returns and every time he avoids her eyes. Because if he sees that same pain he feels in himself, he knows the walls he carefully reconstructed will come tumbling down.

And one day during her visit he loses it. One case that hits way too close to home and he's suddenly wailing on a patient's husband. She's the one to drag him away, anger giving her more than enough strength to force him.

Instead of taking him straight to the Chief, as he expected she would, she shoves him into an on call room. He smirks and makes a smartass comment about déjà vu.

And she goes off. Never has he heard a rant like this. And he has heard her rant on more than one occasion. She starts on the eight million broken rules, the professionalism, the basic common sense, everything. He stares at his shoes.

And then she comes down from her righteous fury high. Quietly she asks, "What happened to you, Alex?"

He won't meet her eyes.

"It might help," she suggests. "With the Chief. If I knew."

"It's none of your business," he snaps.

She looks surprised by the force of his answer. "Alex," she tries to start, tries to reach out, tries to rekindle whatever they used to have.

And he shoves her away, physically and verbally. "It's my shit to deal with, not yours."

"Fine, get expelled from the program," she taunts, a cruel smirk twisting her mouth.

"Whatever."

"Alex, please-"

"Just leave me the fuck alone!"

The corners of her mouth twitch, trying to keep tears from falling from her eyes. "I used to think you actually had something," she informs him. "I used to have faith in you. Clearly I was wrong." She shakes her head. "I'm disappointed in you, Karev."

"What? You think you're going to get me to talk like I'm some twelve year old who cares if you're _disappointed _in him?"

"I was _hoping _that maybe I'd find that you still had a little humanity left," she spits.

"Sorry to _disappoint _you, Dr. Montgomery," he sneers.

"Go to hell."

Before he knows what's happening one of them kisses the other and suddenly they're right back to where they were sitting at that bar a year ago. Has it really only been a year?

No. This is what he worked so hard to prevent. This is why he burned those fucking bridges in the first place. He can't let this happen; he can't watch her realize just how screwed up he is. He can't watch her leave him.

So he shoves her away. And he shoves her a little too hard. She flies into the wall with a painful thud. And he sees what he never, ever wanted to see in her eyes. He could take seeing her in pain, he could take seeing her angry or sad, but he there is no way he can deal with seeing her afraid of him. It's only a flash, barely even noticeable. But it's there. For one millisecond, she is afraid of him and he is now no better than his father. So he does the only thing he can think of. He stammers an apology and shoves his way out of the room, searching blindly for refuge from that flash of fear. He knows he'll never find it.

She doesn't find him until a few hours later when she stumbles upon him lying on a bed in another on call room, staring at the ceiling and beating himself up. She sits down beside him and he quickly gets up. She grabs his wrist and pulls her down next to him. "What happened to you, Alex?" she asks, even softer this time. It's almost a whisper.

She won't let go of his hand. And somehow it all comes spilling out. His father, his mother, his family, his regrets. His inability to commit. Why he had to destroy her in order to protect her. His hatred of wife-beaters. The newfound depths of his hatred for himself.

He doesn't look at her through his entire speech. Then he does. She has silent tears running down her cheeks and she's laced her fingers through his. "I, uh, I have to go," he stutters, trying to escape her, to escape this suddenly suffocating room. She won't let him go. "Addison, stop," he demands.

"Alex-"

"No."

"You're not your father. You're not your family or your life," she insists. "Please, just… just sit back down."

"No," he refuses. "You didn't see… But I did… And…"

"What?" she searches for clarification.

"You're afraid of me," he mumbles.

"I am not!" she exclaims.

"You were though. When I slammed you into that door, you were afraid of me."

"No," she says in a slow, measured tone. "I was shocked. I was a little hurt. But I wasn't afraid. I will never be afraid of you, Alex."

He shakes his head.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," she tells him quietly. "Your story's safe with me. I promise."

"Thanks," he says awkwardly.

They get up and she presses her lips carefully against his. But that slow, innocent kiss creates a slow burn unlike any of the arson he's previously performed in his life. Her lips part to let his tongue in and he tugs her closer until every inch of her body presses against his. When they move to the bed he says, "You're beautiful."

She rewards him with a soft smile. "I could say the same about you."

"You really have to leave tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she frowns, thinking that this means a stop to their current activity. But he surprises her by returning his attention to her mouth. "Alex," she pants, fumbling with his belt buckle.

"Mmhmm?"

"I didn't mean it earlier; I'm not disappointed in you. If anything, I… I'm proud of you." She drops her eyes away from his face shyly.

"Addison?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to miss you."

She nods. "Can we not talk about that?" she asks. "I just want an hour to forget."

He answers by kissing her.

His problems are not solved. They remain unsolved. If anything, they're multiplied. But with her tangled up in his arms, for the first time this happy thing doesn't seem completely out of his reach.

**I hope you enjoyed!**

**-Juli-**


End file.

Grey's Anatomy, Angst, Romance