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CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
elevator love letter.
season five, episode nineteen.

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"Cristina, it's me," Billie called as she knocked frantically on the door to the bathroom of Cristina and Callie's apartment.

After having gotten an alarming call from the latter at three in the morning, Billie had rushed out of bed, left a note for her brother and broken into the apartment, panicked.

"Cristina, please, open the door." Billie knocked again.

This time, the door to the bathroom unlocked and she immediately rushed in, only to find her person hunched over the sink, chest heaving almost imperceptibly. She closed the door behind her.

"What is going on, Cristina? Owen's all panicky, Callie is screaming-"

"No changes in visual acuity, no petechiae," Cristina said under her breath. "I'm fine."

Then, she turned. Her neck glowed red.

"Fuck, your neck!" Billie's eyes snapped wide, then filled with rage. "I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch."

"No, no, it was a nightmare. He had a nightmare," Cristina interrupted her.

"Yeah, he can stick his nightmares up his-"

Just then, someone knocked the door. Immediately, both Cristina's and Billie's heads whipped in the same direction. The latter, however, then looked at the former, and was horrified to see that, in Cristina's eyes, there was some sort of comprehension, some sort of apologetic glow.

"Cristina, please," Owen said without entering the room. "Billie, is she alright? I just need to know if she's alright."

Cristina took a step forward, but Billie pushed her back. "What? No, no, no, no, Cristina, no."

However, the woman simply pulled away and headed towards the door, which she opened. On the other side stood Owen, eyes reddened due to apparent crying and scratches littering his neck and arms, likely inflicted by Cristina in the struggle to squirm away from his deadly grip.

Owen looked horrified as he glanced at her neck.

"I am so sorry," he whispered. "I don't know what happened, I'm sorry." He began sobbing. "I don't know what happened."

"Look at me," Cristina said solemnly.

Owen kept his head down, as if not able to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry."

"Look at me." This time, Owen looked up. "I'm fine. See? It's okay. You were asleep. It's okay, okay? It's okay. It's okay."

Slowly, she pulled him in for a hug.

"It's okay."

"I'm sorry."

The words rebounded in Billie's head.

"It's okay. I know."

Echoed.

"I'm sorry."

"You were asleep. It's okay."

"I'm sorry."

☆

Billie arrived at the hospital that day. The hospital felt different.

Changed into her scrubs, wearing her lab coat on top, Billie headed towards Izzie's room, where she knew not one, but multiple doctors would be briefing her on the case. She still wasn't sure how to feel. Part of her felt stupid. Part of her felt indifferent. Part of her wanted to help.

As she strode down the hallway in direction of said patient room, she came across a man she was not expecting. With an overgrown stubble, but changed into his navy blue scrubs, was none other than Derek Shepherd.

"Derek, hi." Billie was a little confused, as she didn't know Derek would be coming back.

"Billie." He smiled slightly.

At first, he hesitated, as if there was a space between them, but in the end, he pulled her in for a hug. As it hadn't happened in so long, the hug actually felt nice. Some sort of warmth settled on Billie's chest.

"You came back," she stated as he pulled away.

"I came back." Derek smiled, but the emotion soon faded. "Billie, I'm sorry for-"

"Don't," Billie cut him off. "I know you didn't mean it."

"I'm still sorry."

"I'm not mad." She smiled. "I've struggled with depression my entire life, you just wanted to be left alone."

Derek thought for a second, then nodded. "I did."

"See? We're fine." She stroked his shoulder softly. "You should get in there now."

"Right," Derek said, slightly nervously, as he eyed Izzie's room. "Yeah, right, I should."

Billie sensed his anxiety.

"Hey," she said. "It'll be okay."

"Yes." He nodded frantically, like getting ready for a huge presentation. She knew how hard it was for him. "You coming?"

"Uh, no, I'll just hang out here for a few minutes."

"You sure?"

"Positive." She nodded, gulping anxiously. "Now, go."

☆

Sat behind the counter, rolling around on the spinning chair on the nurses station right in front of Izzie's room as she sipped from a carton of apple juice, Billie suddenly caught sight of Cristina. The latter hadn't quite seen her yet, too focused on updating a chart to notice, but Billie had perceived a certain detail she disliked.

"You're wearing a turtleneck," Billie said, grimacing in disgust at the sight of the grey turtleneck Cristina wore beneath her scrubs. The woman looked up. "It's ugly."

"Yeah, well." She shrugged.

"Not as ugly as the fact that you hugged him. Or the fact that you forgave him," Billie stated.

"Just drop it, Bil." Cristina went back to her chart, but the brunette simply inched forward on her chair.

"Why would you forgive him?" she asked, entirely ignoring her person's previous statement.

"Okay, I heard you the first time. Let's move on now."

"Turtlenecks are not okay. Your boyfriend's not okay. You're not okay. Why are you avoiding it?" Billie put down her carton of apple juice and stared into her person's eyes. "Listen, I've-"

"I don't wanna hear it! Okay? Just-" Cristina huffed, "-drop it."

☆

"Jesus, what's that?"

Billie glanced between Alex, sitting on the bunk bed in the on-call room, and the specimen cup sitting right in front of him. Of course, her plan all day had been to avoid talking to him, but after having forgotten her necklace in said on-call room, Billie had gone back and had, unfortunately, met with him.

"It's a specimen cup," he replied wryly.

"Yeah, I can see that, but why?"

"They're harvesting Izzie's eggs."

Billie remained quiet, lacking understanding. "And her eggs are... inside you?"

"No. Eggs have a better chance of survival when they're fertilized." Alex clicked his tongue, evidently exasperated.

Billie formed her lips into an 'o'. "So you have to-" she gulped, "-jizz into that thing?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

There was an awkward silence.

"Whatever. I'm not doing this," Billie said under her breath, rolling her eyes and walking past Alex towards the desk, where her necklace resided.

As much as he didn't want to, Alex looked up and followed her around the room with his gaze, some sort of regret laying within his intention. It was his fault that they weren't talking to each other, that he knew, but he wasn't sure whether he'd ever be able to tell her the real reason.

As Billie left the room, however, she froze on her tracks.

"You know what?" she said. "I don't know what it is that you're doing, why you're being such an asshole. But we could be friends. And Izzie has cancer, and I'm trying so hard to not be mad at you, but I am done with the hot and cold. I am done with you worshipping me one day, then completely ghosting me the other. You have a choice: you either cut the bullshit and come hug me right now, or you can keep this little act of yours. But you lose me."

Billie extended her arms by her sides, motioning for him to hug her. It was all she wanted.

Alex did hesitate his response. Alex did think about what he had to say. He thought about the consequences, the reasons behind everything he did. But in the end, there were more cons than pros. Their friendship only implicated a bigger amount of people getting hurt. Alex didn't wish to hurt anyone.

"Whatever," he said, retrieving the specimen cup from the table and his lab coat from a chair and walking right past her open arms.

Billie felt embarrassed.

☆

Billie had been awfully pensive. Once again, she found herself sitting behind the counter of the nurses station, right in front of Izzie's room. There, she could see her, behind the open blinds, laying on her bed like it was the last place she'd ever see. Billie prayed that wasn't the case.

She felt the need to cry. The anguish settled heavy on her chest, like an anvil weighing her down in the absence of her best friend. She didn't know why Alex had suddenly decided to hate her; she didn't know what it was that she had done in order to lose the one thing that made her happy. But good things never last-it was bound to happen sometime.

Right now, she found herself at a low point. Confused about everything around her, unable to determine what the fuck it was she should do next. Every best friend she'd ever had, she'd somehow lost. Either to the mishaps of life, or to her own mistakes. But she had thought that Alex was there to stay.

Even though they had undergone multiple events that should've broken them apart, even though they had been close to falling in love, Alex was Billie's best friend. She would've still died for him even if he left her behind. But this was just an awful reminder in her life that nothing ever lasts forever.

"Have you seen Cristina?"

Owen's voice snapped Billie out of her reverie.

"What?"

"Cristina, where is she?" he asked, almost nervously.

Billie eyed him up and down. "Why would you care?"

"I-"

"She's wearing a turtleneck, Owen, for God's sakes. Just leave the poor girl alone."

Owen pursed his lips, almost like holding himself back from saying something. He leant in forward and lowered his voice.

"I need you to tell her that I didn't mean to do it, okay?"

"You didn't mean to try and kill her? Wow, very progressive, Owen, congratulations." Billie clapped.

"I'm serious!"

"So am I." Billie stood up. "That's how every abusive relationship starts, you know? 'Oh, I didn't mean to choke you, Cristina', 'I didn't mean to shove you against a wall, Cristina', 'I didn't mean it'. Blah, blah, blah. Do us both a favor and keep that bullshit to yourself."

This time, Owen didn't say anything, deeply hurt by the absent intention of his apology. He really wished he would be forgiven, but every second that went by, he saw it less likely.

☆

Billie waited that day, right outside Izzie's patient room. She sat behind the counter of the nurses station and watched through the open blinds as a group of nine to ten doctors came in and out of her room while she knitted what seemed like a green scarf. Billie could not hear what they said; she wasn't even sure she wanted to know.

She kept waiting, outside the room, even after all the doctors were gone and Izzie was left on her own, on the bed. In the hospital, but as a patient and not as a doctor. Billie felt for her more than she wanted to, which was why she felt so damn biased.

Her entire childhood, Billie had watched her mother battle an incurable cancer that had quite literally taken over not only Ivory's life, but also the lives of all of the people she loved. Ian and Billie no longer went to school, spending long hours within the hospital walls hoping, praying, that their mother eventually got better. Frank took night shifts so he was away only when his wife wasn't awake, although, near the last stages of her life, Ivory had spent more time in sleep rather than in wakefulness. But that didn't mean the remaining LeBlanc's gained any comfort, since it only implied that she was only getting worse.

Even though her mother's cancer had been an event happened to Billie at a very young age, far before she even had the consciousness to be aware of what was truly going on, she still remembered fragments, figments, so vividly that she could have been living them all over again if it wasn't because she pushed them away.

Billie wouldn't have wished that kind of pain to anyone. Neither the pain of being sick, nor the pain of watching a loved one as so. So, she didn't know whether she should support Izzie. And she certainly did not know what to do about Alex.

In reality, it was really hard on Billie to live in the absence of his presence, but the only thing she was asking for was a heartfelt apology. And she was one stubborn person.

"You going in there?"

Billie turned when she heard George's voice. "What?"

"Well, you've been sitting here the entire day. It's getting kinda creepy," he admitted, surrounding the nurses station in order to stand in front of her, leaning on the counter.

She laughed softly. "Yeah, I'm just..."

"Hesitant?"

"Yeah, you could say so." Billie shrugged. She kept quiet for a second. "I just feel so stupid."

"Stupid? Why?"

"Izzie came to me just a few hours before we all found out. She told me all about her cancer, except," she paused, "she didn't say it was her who was sick. And I don't know how I didn't connect the dots."

"You feel you should've noticed sooner?"

"Of course I should've noticed sooner." Billie scoffed sorely. "I mean, we all saw her. She was completely detached from... everything. Hiding stuff, sneaking around. We all saw her."

"It's not your fault you didn't notice. Izzie was keeping it a secret for a reason." George leant down. "You shouldn't beat yourself up about this. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault. Izzie just... got cancer. Same way we see patients get cancer every day."

"Yeah, but it's Izzie. And Alex..." Billie grimaced, feeling the emotional pain on her chest.

"And Alex, what?"

"He's just so distant now, too. And he loves Izzie. And if Izzie dies-" she gulped, "-it's just gonna crush him."

George, this time, didn't say anything. In the absence of his words, Billie knew she was right, and that there was nothing none of them could do in order to make the situation better. But Billie, specifically, was an expert in all sorts of pain, and not being able to counsel her friends in regards to it made her feel completely and utterly useless.

"Why don't you just talk to her?" George suggested after a second.

"What do you mean?"

"Talk to Izzie," he clarified. "It might help make things clear."

☆

Izzie looked up from her knitting when she heard the three knocks on her door. However, as she was waiting to see Alex, Meredith, George, Cristina even, she was entirely surprised when she caught sight of none other than Billie Black instead.

"Hey," said the brunette.

Izzie was slightly baffled by her appearance. "Hi."

"How are you feeling?" Billie asked as she pulled a chair and sat by the blonde's bed, backrest between her knees.

"I'm just a little tired," she replied, still slightly put off. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking up on you."

"No, no. What are you doing here?"

Billie immediately cut the bullshit. She knew why she was there, she knew all the reasons why she shouldn't be there, and she completely understood Izzie's confusion. She was as confused as well.

Her mouth was bone dry, as if revealing her truths pained her more than she could imagine. Revealing her truths to Izzie, out of everyone, sounded like an impossible task. But she'd get it through.

"Listen, Izzie, I-" Billie began, licking her lips to get rid of the sour drought. "When I was a child, my mother was diagnosed with triple-negative breast cancer. Incurable, obviously. Of course, as a doctor, I watch people struggle with cancer every day. You know, it's almost like a routine: arriving at the hospital and diagnosing someone's tumor to be malignant. Or not, in the best of cases. But that's not the point. Point is," she paused, "I spent my entire childhood battling my mother's cancer by her side. I saw her through everything, through chemo, through countless surgeries. Everyday, I'd come back to the hospital and there'd be a new scar on her chest. She lost all her hair and there came a point where she couldn't even get up anymore."

There was a silence.

"I don't forgive you, Izzie. I fucking hate you, and I mean that in the most horrid of ways. I despise you, and everything about you," Billie stated. "After Denny died, I wished you dead instead for what must've been months. Every day, I woke up and prayed Denny was with me and you were gone. And now, there's a chance you might actually... be gone. Soon."

Izzie's face displayed nothing but mere confusion.

"I don't want you gone, Izzie," said Billie.

There was a moment of silence, like an ocean of unspoken words. It was true: Billie would never like Izzie. She'd continue to hate her for as long as she knew her. But she didn't want her to die. She would never wish that on anyone. Not even, as was the case, on her worst enemy.

"You know, you're actually the first person to come visit me today," Izzie said after a while, fidgeting with the green scarf she'd been knitting.

"What? What about the others?" Billie frowned.

"They're working. I told them to. They're doctors, their patients shouldn't suffer just because I have things growing on my organs," she said sarcastically, going back to the knitting like it was already a compulsive habit she'd acquired.

"Right," Billie said, slightly suspiciously. She then stood up. "You know, I'm assisting Dr. Bailey on a colectomy tonight." Izzie eyed her subtly. "If you were me, and Dr. Bailey suddenly decided to ask you to divide the cecum, what would you use?"

"What?" She chuckled. "I'm not you, I'm not assisting Dr. Bailey any time soon and she's not gonna ask me to divide the cecum."

"But I'm not gonna let you get rusty, am I, now? A year from now, you're gonna need to be able to do this. You're gonna need to be able to teach the residents how to do it."

"You really think I'm gonna be here a year from now?" Izzie scoffed sorely, looking her dead in the eye.

"Yes, I do." Billie shrugged. "So, once Dr. Bailey's exposed the right lower quadrant, you would divide the cecum with...?"

Izzie smiled.

☆

Izzie had now gone into surgery, surrendered to Derek Shepherd's surgical skills. Billie could see Alex did not trust him yet to operate on his girlfriend's brain (she didn't have to ask, it was hauntingly obvious that the glares Alex shot in Derek's direction weren't just casual and they were placed strategically, with a single purpose. Besides, Billie knew Alex's nuances like the palm of her hand, so it didn't take much observing for her to notice).

Billie, Alex, Meredith, Cristina and George currently find themselves right outside the surgical wing, leant against the OR board where the name Stevens, I could be read, signaling Izzie's surgery was taking place. All of the residents, minus Billie, felt extremely guilty: after having been preoccupied with work throughout the entire day, not one of them had been able to visit Izzie in her room. Now, the chance that she might not make it out alive haunted them all.

Billie currently found herself next to Cristina.

"I'm worried about you," she said.

"Billie..."

"Choking," Billie reminded under her breath.

"Stop."

"It's unacceptable."

"Back off!" Cristina whisper-yelled.

There was a moment of silence.

"Hands around the neck," Billie whispered accusingly.

"Ex-boyfriend who you're in love with that won't even look at you and is dating your archenemy, who also has cancer and is being operated on as we speak," she fired back in a single breath before striding away.

Billie felt offended.

"I'm not in love with him!" she yelled.

Everyone turned to look at her.

☆

When Bailey came out through the doors of the surgical wing, wearing her scrub cap and her post-surgical gown, all residents and interns that had been impatiently waiting immediately rushed towards her.

"Vitals stable the entire time?"

"Any spikes in intracranial pressure?"

"Was there any residual tumor?"

"Shepherd was able to resect all of the tumor. She'll be in the PACU for about an hour," Bailey stated with a sigh. "She's fine."

☆

"I don't understand," Cristina said as her and Billie sat in Izzie's PACU room in silence, waiting for her to wake up, "why you're so pressed about what happened with Owen."

Billie craned her back and glowered. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you so mad that I wanna forgive him, or that I wanna... move past it?"

Billie kept quiet, her eyes on Cristina. Cristina's eyes on Izzie. The room was silent except for the sound of Izzie's heart machine, as well as her breathing, which rang intermittently and produced some sort of muffled background noise. Late at night, the hospital was dark and silent.

"I guess... I do kinda get you at some level," Billie said.

Cristina's eyes lit up. "You do?"

"Yeah. He's damaged goods." She shrugged. "You wouldn't leave him behind if he had come back from the war with a missing limb instead. It's the same thing, except it's all far beyond a physical feeling."

There was a moment where she paused.

"I would want you to forgive me if I was him, but I would never forgive myself if you did."