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CHAPTER SIXTY
an honest mistake.
season five, episode sixteen.

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"Who's that?"

As soon as the words were out of Billie's mouth, Alex's head immediately whipped upwards from the chart he was updating and he began turning in all directions, searching for the source of his friend's surprise. However, knowing her (quiet well, truly), he knew that, given Billie's current state of reluctant celibacy, it was likely that someone had caught her eye.

And he was right. Just a few seconds earlier, a perky-seeming blonde had roller-skated into the main hall-actually roller-skated, since the soles of her shoes appeared to have small wheels attached to them, which granted the blonde attending the ability to slide into any given space. She was a pretty woman, relatively short and with a squared smile that displayed each and every single one of her pearly whites. Naturally, the beautiful stranger had called Billie's attention (mostly because ever since Miles had gotten into a relationship with April, Billie was having a hard time finding someone whom which she could have loose trysts with).

"Oh, that?" Alex gestured with his head, eyes on the attending Billie now seemed fascinated by. "That's, uh, Robbins. Arizona Robbins. New peds attending."

"Oh, is she now?" Billie squinted her eyes, watching as Arizona traveled the room and came to a halt in front of none other than her own intern, John Rogers. "She's cute."

"I don't think she's into chicks." Alex grimaced, refusing to admit that the smallest, teeniest, tiniest bit of himself actually felt kind of jealous.

True, he'd been dating Izzie Stevens for several months and had even confessed his love for her, which she had reciprocated, but lately, the blonde seemed to be slightly detached of herself and her surroundings. She'd been acting weird, claiming to be capable of talking to dead people, and Alex had been feeling more and more distanced from her with time, so his brain sought comfort in the only girl he knew would never leave him. But now, seeing as the brunette had obviously moved on, he felt left behind.

What he didn't know, though, was that Billie had not moved on. In fact, she was far from it.

"Not into chicks?" The girl scoffed. "Please."

"What do you mean?"

"She roller-skates."

"So?"

"So?" Billie turned to him, finally etching her eyes off of Arizona and finding Alex to be way closer than what she had priorly thought. "It screams gay all over."

"It just screams I'm a child with an attention deficit." He rolled his eyes.

"So you're telling me you wouldn't tap that if you had the chance?" Billie arched an eyebrow, once again, turning towards him and holding eye contact.

Alex swallowed for a second, holding back the urge to confess that no, he wouldn't sleep with Arizona Robbins but there was someone else he would very much like to sleep with if circumstances weren't against him. Alas, much to his dismay, Billie took his silence to be something else.

"See?" She shrugged, looking back over at Arizona, who still chatted eagerly with John about whatever. Soon, however, Billie's expression fell a little. "You know what's up with John?"

"Huh?" Alex frowned, whiplashed by the sudden shift in the atmosphere of the conversation. He followed Billie's gaze to the young man that stood talking to Arizona. "No. Never even talked to the guy."

"You're real help." Billie huffed playfully, but soon made it her job to arrange the papers in front of her in order to start her morning rounds.

Alex snorted and then watched her for a second. Busy in her own reverie, Billie didn't notice his eyes on her, but he did notice everything about her: her compulsive habit of tucking strands of hair behind her ear, even when they were already tucked; that little thing she did whenever she was focused, which consisted of biting the very edge of her lip as she kept a frown on her face; the movement of her hands, which appeared graceful and languid from afar, but was actually, in some cute way, clumsy, and-

"Wait, what is that?"

Billie lifted her gaze off the counter only to notice Alex staring down at the many papers she was previously maneuvering. "Oh, just some old stuff."

"Seems complex." He cocked a brow, catching a glimpse of the words scribbled down on the paper.

"Yeah, it's... you know, whatever. I'm giving it off to Ian anyway," she said, finally grabbing ahold of the stack of papers and holding them over her chest. Billie took a look around. "You got a hair-tie?"

"I always do." He rolled his eyes playfully, retrieving the black hair-tie from his wrist and handing it to her.

"You're the best." Billie grinned, leaning in and planting on his cheek a soft kiss which left Alex feeling like he'd swallowed a fleet of butterflies.

☆

"Damn," Ian exclaimed under his breath as Billie dropped on his desk a thick pile of messy papers. "The hell is that?"

"My project," the girl replied, slightly out of breath as she had had to carry the entire stack throughout two flights of stairs (damned elevators; the only time she ever needed them, they were out of service!).

"You mean, the NFSP?" Ian frowned, skimming through a few pages. He shook his head. "Bil, I don't understand these. They're all just scribbles."

"No, it's not just scribbles. It's the future of medicine. Let me just-" she said hurriedly, starting to skim through the many pages until she came up with a specific one, which she handed to her brother.

Ian grabbed it with an inquisitive look and then scanned it over. His expression morphed into a frown, but his eyebrows soon arched upwards. There was a moment of silence which Billie took upon in order to plummet down on the chair by her side

(It was still rather impressive to her that Ian, without even being chief of neurosurgery, had gotten his own office, but she had decided to accredit this to the fact that Ian was the son of two of Richard's bestest friends, and the fact that nowadays both of them were somehow gone maybe made the Chief feel slightly nostalgic, even if favoring their children because of that actually accounted as nepotism.)

"It's impressive work, Bils, you've done a lot of progress ever since the last time I heard of this," Ian declared, eyes still on the paper, although his brows soon creased together. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Keep it," she stated simply.

"What do you mean keep it?"

"Keep it. I don't want it," she said.

"Billie, I can't keep this. It's your work. You've been working on it for months-"

"Yeah, but I want you to have it." Billie was clear with her intentions. "I'm not qualified to do this, and even if I wanted to start this trial, which I don't, then I'd need a neurosurgeon. My brother happens to be one of the best." She laughed. "And I'm a woman and a resident. I would get zero recognition for this shit. Besides, it's not like you didn't contribute to it as well, didn't you? I wouldn't have been able to crack it without you."

"But- But what am I supposed to do with it?"

"Whatever the fuck you want, Ian." Billie chuckled. "You can work on it, you can improve it, you can fucking trash it."

"I would never trash it." He scoffed.

"That's not my point. Point is," she spread her arms, "it's yours now, Ian. You're the owner. You get to choose. I've got enough things on my plate to be worrying about this now, but if I put it on standby, it will just annoy me. I'm delegating this to you."

Ian was baffled, of course. He was frowning, hard, with the paper still on his hand, looking up at his sister like she had lost her mind. However, in the end, he knew it was no use to argue. After all, Billie would always be one of the most stubborn girls he'd ever meet.

"Are you sure?" he asked instead.

She smiled. "Entirely."

☆

Cristina and Billie were now sitting in the cafeteria, each indulged in their own food and reverie, but submerged within a comfortable quiet. Cristina, on her part, was making it her job to read one of Ellis Grey's journals, which Meredith had requested for her to do since it had been written on the year when her mother and Richard had started sleeping together. On the other hand, Billie's mind wasn't even on that same table-it was actually on the continuous table, where she could see John lunching by the rest of the interns.

(No, she wasn't a creepy stalker and no, she did not have a crush on her intern, but ever since Jay had made that comment about John acting weird, she had set her mind to find out what was wrong with him, since she couldn't just stand by the sidelines and do nothing.)

Just then, Meredith approached the table and sat by Cristina with a bottle of sparkling water on her hands. Immediately, both girls were snapped out of their trances.

"How's my mother?" the blonde asked.

"Bitter, angry-" Cristina replied, "-genius. And what's so wrong is how much the Chief and your mother fought. Sex must have been great."

"Okay, you saying that? That's wrong."

"What's wrong?" Izzie asked as her and Alex sat by them on the table, each carrying their own food trays. "Our entire healthcare system? 'Cause I agree."

Billie grimaced. "What's got your panties in a twist?"

Izzie didn't get a chance to answer to the brunette's comment, since Cristina was interrupting. "Oh, here it is. 'March 3rd, 1979. Assisted Margaret Campbell on a splenectomy. Impressive resume, adequate technique.' See? Hack! Even then."

Billie's eyes widened a little and an amazed smile formed on her face. "You're working with Margaret Campbell? She was my father's mentor!"

Immediately, she cringed at her words and shrank back down on her chair, wiping the smile off her face as she realized the tranquility with which she had stated her father's name-this was a detail that, as usual, only Alex caught on, but he didn't say anything.

"Yeah, well, Ye Oldy Timey thinks she's still sane enough to keep doing surgery. See, that's what I like about your mom: she wasn't all Alzheimer-y and still operating," Cristina explained. "You know what? Do me a favor and shoot me if I start making mistakes on patients and still think it's kosher to keep cutting."

"Sounds like Shepherd," Alex mumbled under his breath.

"Alex!" Meredith immediately reproached.

With the straw of a carton of apple juice between her lips, Billie frowned. "What's wrong with Derek?"

"Nothing!" The blonde's voice went up a few pitches.

"Please, my guy's right. Your guy nicked an aneurysm and now he's trying like hell to cover his ass." Alex rolled his eyes.

"Your guy needs to shut up."

"Meredith, is Derek okay?" Billie, confused, tried to catch the blonde's attention, but just then both Meredith and Alex's pagers went off and they had to rush out of the scene.

☆

It was quite later that day that Billie found Derek on the landing strip, leant against the railing with his eyes on the floor. There was something wrong with him, that part she had gotten, so ever since the little conversation she had heard between Alex and Meredith in the cafeteria, she had been intending to go check on her friend. However, she had now found out that Derek had been in surgery all day and, after losing a patient, he had been called a murderer.

So, Billie approached him slowly. She stood next to him and looked into his eyes, knowing he had seen her, but also understanding why he wasn't acknowledging her. She knew better than to confuse grief.

Slowly, she walked up to him and placed her hand on his back. Derek shifted a little, almost as if he couldn't bear to be touched, but as he slowly warmed up to the contact, Billie took another step forward and leant back against the railing next to him.

"Derek-"

Just then, Mark walked up to them both, obviously oblivious to the fact that there was something clearly wrong with his best friend. He slowly ran a hand through his hair, glanced briefly at Billie and then looked down at Derek.

"I'm seeing Lexie," he said. Derek lifted his head and Billie's eyes immediately widened. "Well, I'm sleeping with her too, but it's more than that. We're happy."

"Mark," Billie whispered as Derek slowly stood straight and turned towards him. Instinctively, she took a step back.

"What? I'm happy!" Mark threw his hands in the air.

Then, Derek swung his arm and blew him across the face. The man groaned out and stumbled backwards, and a gasp involuntarily left Billie's lips.

"Okay, that's..." Mark shook his head. "Maybe I deserved that." His face soon shifted. "You know what? I didn't deserve that. You have no right to tell me who I can sleep with."

Again, Derek punched him, but this time, it was clear to Billie that it wasn't just Mark's words encouraging his violent actions. The girl took several steps back as Mark, who had stumbled back once more, slowly regained his senses. She shook her head.

"Mark, please, just back off-"

But it was too late. This time, it was him who punched Derek, and the man fell to his knees on the floor. At this point, a small crowd had gathered around the landing strip to stare at the scene, attention called by the sound of cracking bones.

Mark took one look around and, holding his jaw, he began walking away, but Derek was quick to stand up and tackle him to the ground. From this point onwards, the fight grew heated, and so did the weight each of them put behind their punches.

Billie had been left standing a few feet away with her hands on her hair. Blood spurted to the ground as Mark and Derek rolled over each other, throwing fists at each other's faces however they could. Immediately, the girl ran over to them both, not knowing what she was supposed to do, but somehow thinking she could break them apart.

"Mark!" she yelled, seeing as, at that point, the man in question was straddling Derek's lap, punching whatever part of the latter's face he could find.

"Billie, don't!"

She didn't hear the words or where they had come from, so she wasn't aware enough in order to take them as a clear warning. She simply placed her hands on Mark's shoulders and tried to pry him off. However, he pushed her away, causing her to fall to the ground right on her wrist. In a moment of pure shock, Billie did not move at first, feeling the pain starting to spread around her hand.

With the sound of cracking bones as a background melody, she felt her vision blurring and noticed suppressed memories resurfacing to torment her. A presence appeared by her side, trying to hold her up, but her eyes were fixed on the ceiling and her chest heaved violently. Immediately, she squirmed away of whoever was trying to help her up and lifted herself into a sitting position, staring at her two best friends destroying each other on the floor.

She couldn't see much further from her tears, but she was able to sight her brother knelt down next to her.

"Billie? Billie, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

I don't know.

Instead of answering, Billie jolted to her feet and turned away with her hands on her ears, promptly ignoring the pain on her wrist, eyes shut close in order to avoid the situation happening only a meter behind her. After that, all she remembered was seeing black.

☆

Why are lights in all hospitals so fucking bright?

A presence in front of her sighed, causing Billie to instantaneously open her eyes-perhaps too quickly for her murky brain, since she soon felt light-headed. She groaned out, slowly lifting her hands in order to rub her temples and somehow soothe the growing headache.

However, when she did, she was surprised to find a compression bandage around her wrist, as well as an IV hooked to a vein on her opposite inner arm. She followed the trail of the cable up to the bag-the inscription on it read morphine. Soon, she also recognized the person in front of her to be Ian.

Billie whimpered when she tried to move her wrist. "What happened?"

Her brother's face fell slightly and he looked down. "You had a vasovagal syncope and landed on your wrist. Dr. Torres said it's sprained."

Billie frowned, not sussing out his deception. "I passed out?"

"Yeah. It's happened before."

"What do you mean?"

But Billie knew what he meant. It had, in fact, happened before that Billie lost consciousness due to high levels of stress, added to her iron deficiency, which subsequently caused her to be even more prone to fainting spells. However, it hadn't happened in a very long time-more specifically, it hadn't happened ever since she'd left her father.

And, truly, whenever she experienced vasovagal syncopes, she wouldn't ever remember the reason behind them or who it was that took care of her. She'd just wake up and go about her day. Now that she thought about it, everything slowly made sense.

"It was you," Billie said softly in realization, frowning at a very quiet Ian.

He laughed through his nose. "Yeah."

"Wow." She dropped back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling in shock. "So you did care for me before."

"I always cared for you, Billie." Ian rolled his eyes playfully, bringing his flashlight towards her eyes in order to check her pupils.

As he did, Billie asked: "What happened?"

But Ian wasn't able to respond. As he was about to speak, the door opened softly, slowly, and in came Mark. Billie smiled at the sight of him, but the action was reversed as soon as he noticed his face-slashed and bruised, badly beaten-up. Immediately, Billie remembered what had happened (she even realized Ian hadn't told her the truth about how she'd hurt her wrist, since she now clearly remembered Mark pushing her, but she did not comment on it).

However, as soon as Ian saw Mark in the room, he put down his flashlight on the instrument tray harshly and launched in the man's direction, grabbing him by the collar of his scrub top and pinning him against the wall. Mark groaned out.

"Ian!" Billie craned up on the bed, whiplashed by the sudden switch in his behavior.

"The fuck are you doing!" Mark tried to squirm out of the other man's grip, but he kept him steady in place.

"You fucking hurt her, you piece of shit," he said calmly. Too calmly.

"Ian, let him go!"

"You don't fucking touch my sister, you hear me?" Ian glared, speaking lowly. "You don't fucking put your hands on her again or I will fucking kill you with my bare hands."

"Ian!" Billie said solemnly this time. "Let him go. Now."

Ian and Mark had been best friends for as long as Billie could remember. Not once had they hung out all together (mostly because of Billie's reluctancy to do so), but she always remembered seeing her brother and her best friend hanging around together. However, now, it appeared that both her and Mark were seeing a facet of Ian that none of them knew he had.

Mark glanced over at Billie briefly, something pleading behind his eyes. Ian, instead, kept a hard glare on him, face reddened due to the anger and hands aching due to the strength he was using to keep him pinned against the wall. He hesitated whether to listen to his sister, but in the end, he decided to harshly let go of Mark's collar and take a few steps backwards slowly, still glaring at the man. Mark straightened his top.

"Thank you." Billie let out the breath she was subconsciously holding (she had witnessed enough violence for the day), closed her eyes for a moment and then glanced at her brother. "Could you leave us alone for a second?"

Ian glowered. "What?"

"It will be a minute, Ian, please." Billie practically begged.

She'd never seen her brother so angry. (Actually, she had, once, but her brain had chosen to block that memory off her brain in order to protect her against any more trauma.) However, in the end, Ian decided to leave the room, always shooting daggers into Mark's skull. Once the door was closed, Mark laughed softly.

"You got yourself a loyal one right there," he said jokingly, but this time, it was Billie who glared at him, cocking a brow. His face fell. "I'm sorry, Billie."

"You are?"

"Of course." Mark shook his head. "I shouldn't have pushed you, I- I didn't mean to hurt you. And- And I- I just wasn't thinking straight. I was mad, okay? It wasn't- I didn't want to hurt you. God, I'm fucking sorry."

Billie's tense stance relaxed. "It's okay."

"It's not. You had a panic attack, Billie, you fucking fainted. And it was my fault. I should've realized Derek wasn't- and I should've never, ever, even touched you." His eyes appeared glassy for a brief instant. "I'm so sorry, Billie."

Her eyes fell to the cast on his wrist (apparently, now they had matching injuries), and she decided to talk about that instead. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"I am."

Mark let out a sigh, likely of guilt. He would've never, ever, even dreamed of hurting Billie-he felt such profound love for her in every sense of the word that even thinking about inflicting on her any kind of pain made him sick to the stomach. Now, he knew he'd hold the guilt for a very long time and would try to make it up to her in any occasion he could find, but he wasn't planning on telling her.

Instead, he grabbed the rolling stool from the corner of the room and positioned it by her bed, then surrounded her with his arm, caressed her hair and placed a soft kiss to the top of her head in a way that he hoped transmitted his apology.

"So, you're seeing Lexie, I hear," Billie joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "How did that happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she's... a child. She's all pink and butterflies."

"So are you."

"But you're not with me."

"Yeah, but I loved you once," he said with a smile, efficiently shutting her up.

It wasn't what he said, it was the topic of conversation. It would always knock the air right out of her lungs. With a little struggle, she wetted her lips and then chose her following words carefully.

"So, that... it's over?" Billie asked self-consciously.

Mark doubted his answer, but in the end, there was only one thing to say. "Yeah, it is."

"Okay." She smiled softly. "That's good. And- And it's good that you're happy with Lexie."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Billie nodded. "Of course."