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CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
wish you were here.
season five, episode eleven.

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"I thought you'd be staying with April today," Billie said pensively as she watched Miles munch on a plate of omelette like he'd been starving his entire life.

"That was yesterday. She's visiting her parents in Ohio today. Keep up," Miles teased. "You sure you don't want anything to eat?"

"I don't eat breakfast." She shrugged simply. "And things are good between you and her? Because I could use some really mind-blowing sex right about now."

He laughed through his nose, not answering the obvious question. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Ugh, you know. Old stuff." Billie blew out heavily through her mouth, running one hand through her hair and realizing she'd be in desperate need of a haircut soon.

"Karev again?"

"You could say."

"What did he do now?"

"Absolutely nothing. That's the whole fucking problem," she complained. "You know, we sit in a cupboard together and share some candy and it feels nice and friendly and then he tells me he's in love with the one person I despise most out of everyone and I feel... I don't know, betrayed. But it's not like he owes me anything. It's not like I get to feel anything about it."

Miles listened attentively and then pointed at her with his fork. "You get to feel whatever the hell you want."

Billie's expression fell a little. "Not if it's unfair to him, no."

There was a moment of quiet. Miles put down his fork and leant back on his seat, arms crossed over his chest as he fathomed her situation. However, in the end, he stood up from his seat and patted her head.

"C'mon, I'll drive you to the hospital," he said.

☆

As soon as she arrived at her workplace, Billie was assigned to a mysterious case which she knew nothing about alongside Cristina, which of course she tried to avoid at first, but had no choice but to accept. Walking alongside the woman in question, avoiding any sort of contact with her, Billie finally arrived at the ER.

"What do you got?" she asked Owen and Derek, who were already there, and snatched the chart off of the latter's hands.

"Take a look," he said.

Billie read swiftly and then frowned. "Caldwell... as in the prison?"

"Yeah."

The Chief approached the four surgeons, lugubrious look on his face. Billie, who was glowering down at the chart, looked up.

"You read up on our VIP?" Richard asked. "Multiple stab wounds, badly beaten. He'll have guards with him at all times. Cuffs stay on, leg irons stay on. Watch your syringes, sharps and pens. I don't want any accidents." Suddenly, his pager went off. "And he's here. You four are my team, no interns. I wanna keep this as quiet as possible."

They began making their way to the ambulance station; Billie by Derek and as far away as it was humanly possible from Cristina, who walked next to Owen. The latter handed Cristina the chart Billie was once reading.

"You get him in and out quickly, patch him up and get him on his way," Richard concluded.

"What's PDR?" Cristina asked, eyeing the chart.

"Get him out of trauma as fast as you can. Those guards are gonna attract a lot of attention." The Chief accompanied the team to the station, but then left them to it and began walking the opposite direction.

"Oh, sir, it's stamped PDR. What is PDR?" Cristina repeated.

"Prisoner," he began warily. "Death Row."

☆

"Mr. Dunn, can you hear me?" Billie asked the patient that now lay on the gurney in front of her-the prisoner.

"You have a lovely voice," he panted out while Derek and Owen rolled him over, both stone-faced. He groaned out in utter pain.

"Okay, we need a trauma series," Cristina said.

"Oh, I hate to be a bother, but my legs really, really hurt. Was I stabbed in the leg?" Mr. Dunn asked, trying to control his pain. Cristina began applying gel to his abdomen in order to perform an ultrasound.

"We checked your legs, we didn't find anything," Derek replied dryly.

"Add T-spine and L-spine films," Billie called out.

"We're gonna get a CT anyway, extra films are a waste of time." Cristina rolled her eyes, causing the brunette to glare harshly at the side of her head.

"More shots can't hurt," Owen retaliated softly.

"If I wasn't stabbed in the leg, then why does it feel like I was?" the patient asked.

"Well, the less you talk the more we can work." Derek glared down at him, seeming like he was trying to cut holes into his skull with his bare eyes.

"Derek," Billie warned.

"That's okay," Mr. Dunn said. "He'll warm up as we get to know each other."

"I don't think so."

"You'll see. We're not that different, you and I. People are alive when they meet us-" he began, "-and then, it all changes somehow."

☆

While she took some more scans, Derek monitoring her work close behind her, Billie noticed that Mr. Dunn was still groaning in genuine pain.

"He's still in a lot of pain. Don't know why," she said.

"It would help if we could get him off this backboard," Owen sighed.

"Shouldn't we wait for his x-rays? He's got decreased sensation in his right lower extremity." Billie frowned.

"According to him. He could tell you anything." Derek shook his head, looking down at the man coldly like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Billie huffed. "We pushed ten of morphine, he shouldn't be in this much pain."

"Maybe we could push a teeny bit more?" the man asked, trickled heavily by sweat upon his hairline.

"You know, we're not here to feed your drug habit," Cristina interfered.

"I've been behind bars for eleven years. The drug trade in solitary isn't what one would hope."

"Let's just wait for the films." Billie glared in her person's direction.

"You know what, I think this is a waste of time." The woman in question looked over at Derek and Owen.

"I hate to agree with Yang, but I agree with Yang." The former shrugged.

Billie turned around with a frown to face him, only to find that he was already looking at her. With a wry scoff, she licked the inside of her cheek and finished her work taking Mr. Dunn's tests, just as a trauma nurse walked into the room with a file.

"Dr. Black?" he called out, handing her it.

She took the x-rays out of the envelope and placed them against the panels, turning on the lights. In front of her, the image of a foreign body lodged into Mr. Dunn's spine appeared.

"Dr. Shepherd?" Billie called out, half-hoping to prove him wrong however. Derek walked up to her and she signaled the object on Mr. Dunn's spine. "What's that?"

"Whatever they stabbed him with is still in there," he replied.

"In his back?" Owen asked.

"Spine."

Billie looked back at Cristina glaringly, starkly proud to have been right about needing more films. The curly-haired woman shook her head and huffed out. The tension between them both was taut.

"Does that mean I'm paralyzed?" Mr. Dunn struggled to speak from her spot on the table. He began laughing, which only caused Derek to look at him disbelievingly.

"Is this funny to you?" Billie asked with a frown.

"My execution date is in a week," he answered amidst chuckles. "I've exhausted all my appeals. But if I'm paralyzed, my lawyer might be able to make a case for staying my execution. Do you think you could let me be a gimp?"

Derek looked at Billie in disapproval. "No."

☆

"It's impinging on the spinal cord," Derek said as him, Owen, Billie and Cristina stood in the x-ray viewing room, analyzing Mr. Dunn's scans. "Can't tell if it's going through or not."

"Well, we'll get a better picture once we get the CT's back," Billie said.

"I ordered an MRI. The CT may not give us a clear view of the cord," Cristina jumped, making it clear to the brunette that she had the intention of contradicting her on everything she said.

"We'll be happy to look at all the images," Owen said, trying to keep them both calm before they began throwing fists at each other. By that point, Billie was fuming.

"We'll do everything by the book. I don't want some lawyer keeping him alive on the basis that we did not give him the standard of care," Derek said with coldness, which was expected.

Owen seemed baffled. "You're pro-death penalty?"

"I'm pro-punishment," he retaliated.

"That's not entirely fair." Billie shook her head, pretending not to have noticed the way Cristina rolled her eyes as soon as she started speaking. "Good people do bad things. People screw up. You can't judge them based on that. He's still a person, we don't know what crime he committed."

"Oh, well, maybe he killed a cop. Feel all warm for the cop-killer," Cristina mocked.

"We don't know what he did!" Billie laughed sorely, praying to God that for once, just once, Cristina would keep quiet. "We can't judge."

"No-" she said, "-but a jury can. Death row."

"I can't believe we're wasting time debating this," Derek interfered the fight. "Do a repeat crit and let me know if he needs blood."

Immediately and without even looking in each other's direction, Billie and Cristina left the room, avoiding even the smallest bits of contact with one another.

Owen frowned, scoffing at the situation he'd just witnessed. "I thought they were friends."

"They were," Derek said.

"And now?"

He huffed. "Now, you and I are in for a very, very long day."

☆

After an hour or so, Billie found Derek near a nurses station. To the very best of her luck, Cristina was there too, so she did her best to avoid her and put her entire focus on him instead.

"Derek, Mr. Dunn is still in a lot of pain. Can I give him more morphine or will that cause any trouble with his neuro exams?" she asked.

"Mr. Dunn has had enough morphine," he replied coldly, not taking his eyes off the chart he was updating.

"Right." Billie squinted her eyes. "But there's a foreign body lodged in his spine. It's inhumane."

"No, killing people is inhumane." Derek looked at her, finishing the chart, snapping it close and starting to walk away. "Denying him pain killers is a judgement call."

Behind the counter, Cristina seemed cruelly proud at Billie's defeat, which the latter shook off with a roll of her eyes. Soon, she was after Derek, slightly worried.

"Derek, what is it?" she said, speaking quietly so Cristina wouldn't overhear. "You can tell me."

He huffed and turned towards her. "I watch people die all the time. I go to families and I tell them their world has been ripped apart, all the time. And I fight like a dog to make sure I don't have to deliver that message, and I lose that fight all the time. Then some guy like Dunn comes along and simply throws it away-life. Then he's got the nerve to tell me that he and I are two sides of the same coin?"

"You're not," Billie was quick to contradict, noticing the whites of his eyes had reddened in fury.

Derek simply stood in front of her, cold as ice. "He doesn't need morphine."

☆

After lunch (or, rather, snacking on the package of Twizzlers that, for some odd reason, Alex had bought for her that morning, claiming they were the last ones on the vending machine and he knew she loved them), Billie found herself back in Mr. Dunn's room. Sadly, Cristina was there, too.

"I'm feeling much better, thanks," he told Billie, hand over his stomach and voice weak in tire. "Thank you for whatever it was you gave me."

Billie felt a pang to the chest knowing he'd revealed her disobedience in front of the one person who wasn't supposed to know, but she didn't dare to glance in Cristina's direction. Instead, while the woman in question stared at her in disbelief and then grabbed the chart in order to check what had been given to the patient, Billie maintained an unreadable expression.

"Is there a family or someone who should know you're having surgery?" she asked.

"Oh, we can't call your family. I think what she's trying to ask you is-" Cristina interrupted, "-what did you do to get on death row?"

"Back off." Billie glared in her direction, so hard she could've burnt a whole through her skull. "That is not what I meant to ask and you don't have to answer it, Mr. Dunn."

"Oh, I don't mind. It's an obvious question," he said, dazed in drugs. "One Monday, I slit this woman's throat. I'd been thinking about it for a while, dreaming about it. And one Monday, I just... I had to do it. I just... really wanted to draw a knife across her neck. And I thought it would be terrifying or sad or something, but it wasn't, it was just... kind of fun." Billie felt her heart sinking. "So I did two more on Tuesday and another two on Wednesday. I was gonna go for three on Thursday 'cause I liked the alliteration, but I got caught so I didn't."

The atmosphere in the room had turned so vividly uncomfortable that Billie didn't know if she wanted to stay there anymore. The calmness which he had conveyed as he spoke such terrible words had made her feel like she was falling, falling, falling...

"Can I get some Jell-O?" Mr. Dunn asked with no empathy whatsoever. "Or is that bad before surgery?"

☆

Billie, Owen, Cristina and Derek now found themselves in surgery. They had been arranged to be standing two on each side: Cristina and Derek on the right, Owen and Billie on the left. Subsequently, this left the two girls to be facing each other, the tension in the room to have been dialed upwards, to which Derek and Owen had secretly promised to break them apart if they seemed like they were about to grab at each other's throats at some point.

Amidst his work, Derek was finally able to remove the object from Mr. Dunn's spine, which they had priorly learnt was a melted-down toothbrush.

"Wow. Sharp," Derek said, analyzing the item. "No wonder he was complaining so much."

"He wasn't complaining after he got ten extra of morphine," Cristina deadpanned, making Billie's chest constrict on itself.

"He got an extra ten of morphine?" Derek asked, disbelieving.

"Yes, and it made him much more comfortable, in case you were wondering," Billie said through gritted teeth.

"It doesn't bother you that this guy probably hacked a family to death with a machete?"

"A knife. And women, not a family. Five women," Cristina corrected, shooting a dirty look in her person's direction. "It's what he likes."

Derek shook his head. "You shouldn't be on this case. Either of you."

"Oh, yeah? What's he gonna do? Jump off the table and get us?" Billie scoffed, blinded by rage, therefore, ready to say whatever hurtful thing popped in her head without caring where it landed. "You're the one holding the knife, Derek."

Owen, who'd been caught in the crossfire, spoke in order to ease the tension. "We'll, uh, be doing a nephrectomy. Either one of you ever mobilized the renal hilum?"

"No, but I'd love to try," Billie said quickly, forcing a smile on her face.

"I've practiced on cadavers, probably hundreds of times. It wouldn't be my first try," Cristina fired back, adding emphasis to her words.

"Wow," the brunette faked surprise. "Well, I guess, to some of us, surgery comes naturally. Others have to practice."

Billie knew it would hurt, but she didn't regret it.

☆

After the surgery, Billie left the scrub room without so much as a glance in Cristina, Derek or Owen's direction. She didn't care to give out apologies or explanations, and didn't care to sell out lies to whoever wanted them, so instead, she headed to the main lobby. There, like fate, Mark found her and sat by her side.

He noticed she was someplace else, probably stuck in her head, so he said. "Wanna get a drink?"

"Not in the mood," she replied wryly, not meaning to sound so cold, but not apologizing for it afterwards.

Mark nodded and didn't say anything. She knew, according to Derek's updates, that Cristina and Billie had been fighting heavily, hence the bad mood. However, after having known her for so many years, he'd always know what to say to her.

"You know," he began, "you and I had a fight like this once."

Billie turned to him with a weary frown. "What?"

Mark smiled softly. "You were a senior in college, I was way past my residency. Remember?"

It took her a second, but not because she'd forgotten. How could she ever forget? It had been the greatest fight of her life, the one she'd regretted the most and the one where she had said the most hurtful things.

"Yeah," she said after a few seconds.

"I think you still hold that grudge against me. And that's okay. I'm a rolling stone, I bounce." He laughed sorely. "But you're about to do the same thing to Cristina, and that girl mates for life. If you don't make it right, she'll never talk to you again."

Billie shook her head, "I'm not the one who's on the wrong here, Mark. We got in a fight and it went South very quickly, but I'm right. And even though she's the one who should be saying sorry and making it right, or whatever, I am the one who's doing all the work. Even though I didn't have to, I apologized to Cristina."

Mark titled his head sympathetically. "Like you meant it? Like you could imagine she had a point?"

Billie frowned.

☆

Billie arrived back home numbly and with tire to get her sleeping for days. She knew there was a very distant chance that she'd actually manage some sleep into her system, but as soon as she was home, the first thing she did was rid her coat, shoes and bag and launch herself onto the couch, where she lay pensively. That's how Ian found her.

He'd arrived before she had after a very uneventful day, to which he had been washing the dishes, but he knew exactly what was wrong with his sister. Immediately, he put down the tablecloth he was using to dry his hands and headed towards her, plummeting down on the couch by her side.

"Hey," Billie said tiredly, only sparing him a brief glance and a pathetic attempt at a smile.

"Hey," he replied. Ian looked at her for a little. "Shepherd told me you and Yang are fighting."

"Of course he did." She blew out some air through her mouth, praying to God her day didn't turn any more tiring than it already was. She turned towards her with her head propped on her hand. "I don't wanna explain this to you."

"You don't have to," he said. "Though, I do wish I could help you."

"Yeah, well, don't we all wish we could help ourselves?" She shrugged.

"That makes absolutely no sense."

"Yeah, I know."

They laughed together for a second, although the sound soon withered and they were flooded by the crippling silence. Billie stared out into space and closed her eyes for a second until Ian spoke again.

"I'm trying to think what your friend would do in this situation to make you feel better, but I really don't know," he said.

"Cristina?"

"Yeah."

"Well," Billie thought for a second, "Cristina would... put on some music. She'd take out a bottle of tequila, probably. And then she'd help me dance it out."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ian remained quiet for a second before he jumped up from the couch and headed towards the cassette player. "Okay, let's see what we got here."

"What are you doing?" Billie frowned, watching as he sorted out through a pile of old cassettes that had priorly belonged to their mother.

Ian smiled, singling out one of the tapes. "You like Queen?"

A confused grin slowly took upon her face as she scoffed at him. "I love Queen."

"Okay, then."

Ian popped the cassette into the player and Crazy Little Thing Called Love began playing. Soon enough, he retrieved a tequila bottle from the shelf, popped the cap open and began swaying his hips in sync with the music, in a way that made Billie laugh.

"Ian, what on Earth are you doing?"

"I'm dancing it out!" he exclaimed over the music, tossing back the bottle in order to take a swig. "C'mon, stand up!"

"No!"

"Stand up, I'm not doing this alone!"

Billie scoffed playfully at him, amused, but in the end, she caved and jumped to her feet, tempted by the beat of Queen. She watched him tread around, looking more like a duck than a dancer, and accepted the tequila bottle once he handed it to her. Billie took an abnormally long swig of the beverage, licked her lips and breathed out.

"Okay, I'm ready," she said.

Soon, Ian and Billie found themselves dancing it out and forgetting all their problems for what must've been an instant, but in their heads, felt like a sweet forever.