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CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
stand by me.
season five, episode eighteen.

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"I'm sorry, why are you so stressed?" Billie asked, watching as her brother, at the wheel, ran his hand through his hair frustratedly for what must have been the sixth time. At this point, his hair was a complete mess.

"It's Shepherd! Goddammit, this is why I never wanted to be Chief," Ian replied with a huff.

He had been sulking for the past few days, pushed down by the weight of having to replace Derek as chief of neuro due to the fact that said surgeon was still adamant on quitting. As he had said, Ian had never wanted to be Chief, since anything that required paperwork put him on a bad mood extremely quickly, but there was no other qualified attending for the job.

Billie had been to the woods, to Derek's trailer, in order to check on the man multiple times through the past few days. However, he was always drunk, smelling of beer and with an overgrown stubble, as well as the same clothes every single day, so Billie had been making it her job to visit his trailer every night, once he had dropped fast asleep, in order to clean up the space. It may had had something to do with the fact that Derek's constant drunkenness reminded her of her father, who had also spent years of his life engrossed in pints, although she wasn't all that sure.

She no longer bothered trying to talk Derek, since he was always extremely angry (the last time Billie had tried having a conversation with him, he had ended up literally insulting her brother for plainly existing, which was why the girl had embodied wrath itself and had left the trailer for a good period of time. However, even though his behavior wasn't excused, she'd always be there for him because she knew better than to judge him for his depression), but simply coming over felt like enough comfort for both of them.

"You're doing a good job, Ian, relax," she said, putting down the sun visor in order to eye herself on the small mirror as she applied some mascara (Ian had woken her up at five thirty and had forced her to rush out of the house, which was why she hadn't had time to properly get ready).

"Yeah, doesn't mean I like it," Ian mumbled under his breath just as he pulled up on the parking lot of the hospital.

Immediately, both siblings rushed out of the car in a very similar fashion, holding their bags to their shoulders and each threading their fingers into their own hair out of stress. Walking in sync, they made their way into the hospital, where they mumbled a goodbye and each headed their own way. Billie, in her case, strode towards the elevator, which she managed to catch just in time before the doors slid closed.

With a bit of a struggle, she pushed herself into the small tin box with the many other people. She had to chug in her claustrophobia, but as she was about to close her eyes to get some tranquility, she caught sight of Alex next to her, which immediately calmed her down. The man was too busy looking down at this phone to notice her.

"Alex, hey." Billie smiled, nudging him with her elbow. He was already changed into his scrubs.

Alex looked up, but he didn't smile. "Oh, hi."

"You good?" She frowned as the elevator began riding up.

(Billie liked to consider herself a perceptive person. She tended to psychoanalyze the people that surrounded her, so she was able to sense the slightest shift in someone's energy because she fixated over every detail. Unpredictability made her feel unsafe.)

"Fine." He nodded.

"Are you mad at me or something?"

"Why would I be?" Alex glanced at her sideways, almost like he was avoiding her eyes.

Billie frowned, almost amused. "Hey."

"What?"

"Are you okay?" she asked again, this time, slowly.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

"Yep," Alex said as he stepped out, leaving Billie behind, but without knowing that what followed for her was an anxious day filled with overthinking.

☆

"Okay, everyone," Billie said as she approached her interns, slipping into her lab coat. "Campbell, you're on my post-ops today. Miller, I need you to stay in room 2201 with Mrs. Aldane to check her output-"

"Wait a second. Dr. Black, Dr. Sloan is gonna perform the most important surgery today," Jay interrupted, seeming as eager as usual.

"It's a face transplant!" Adrian added.

John chuckled and turned to Cassie. "I heard the dude's face is so fucked up, they call him Blowhole."

"Hey!" Billie interrupted, glaring in John's direction. "His name is David."

"Dr. Black," Alicia craned her back in order to look into her resident's eyes. Her voice was abnormally sweet in comparison to that of her friends. "Don't they need interns on the case?"

"Probably. But there are other intern classes in this hospital, aren't they?" Billie smiled cheekily. "I can let you watch the surgery after, but we're gonna need some interns to cover the rest of the chores in this hospital. Besides, if I'm not scrubbing in on this surgery, you suck-ups aren't either."

The interns shared devastated looks, but Billie simply rolled her eyes playfully at them.

"So, as I was saying. Campbell, you're on post-ops; Miller, with Mrs. Aldane; Emerson and Keys, you'll be on peds with Dr. Robbins; and Rogers, you're with me."

☆

"So," John followed Billie down the hallway, "what are we on?"

"Uh, childhood," Billie replied, turning to him. "Trauma."

John froze on his tracks. "What?"

"John, did you experience any traumatic events during your childhood?" she asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"One of the main contributing factors of a forming personality are the events, certain events, that are experienced throughout childhood, since a child's brain is much more susceptible to trauma than an adult's, even though it doesn't quite understand it in the same way an adult brain would," she replied. "I'm trying to find out what it is that has you acting so weird."

Billie was talking way too fast.

"Well, you're not being very discreet about it!" John's voice went up a few pitches.

"Oh, should I? I'm sorry." She grimaced, then rephrased. "John, do you feel deeply, chemically affected by events of your childhood?"

"I- I don't know...?"

"Then, what is it?" She stopped and turned to him, causing him to nearly walk into a wall before he was able to stop.

He felt penetrated by her imposing eyes. "What is what?"

"C'mon, John, you've been acting weird for weeks. And I'm the dumb one for not checking up on you earlier but, as you know, I've had some terrible weeks myself. But I am here now, so, what I expect here is for us to sit and talk about whatever's on your mind," she explained. "If you want to."

"I- I don't know what's on my mind." John shrugged, feeling weirdly exposed.

"Okay. That's okay." Billie nodded in understanding. "I just- I'm- okay, listen, I'm a perceptive person. I can tell when something's not right, and you... you're not right, John. You're far from right. And if my instincts don't fail me, then I know you need help. And we don't have to talk about it right now, but I need you- I want you to be okay."

John thought for a second, but he soon dissolved into a lopsided smile. "I am okay, Dr. Black."

Billie sighed. "You promise?"

"I promise," he said, and even though she looked at him disbelievingly, they both let it slide.

☆

"Billie," Cristina called, but got no answer. She stood by the girl and frowned. "Billie?"

Billie's mind rallied someplace else, charts clutched tight against her chest and eyes devoid, staring at the floor. There was no particular motive for her dissociation that day, but she found herself daydreaming often.

"Billie!" Cristina clapped her hands, causing her to finally snap out of her reverie but, unfortunately, drop all her charts.

"Fuck, sorry," she mumbled under her breath, immediately falling to her knees in order to pick up the mess of files on the floor.

"Billie, are you okay?" Cristina asked, genuinely confused, as she watched the brunette scrambling across the floor in the search for her stuff.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she replied, finally gathering her charts and jumping to her feet. "What do you need?"

"Uh, I was gonna ask you to scrub in with me on my solo surgery today, but you don't seem to be in the right conditions to-"

"Wait, what? No, I'm in the condition! I- I'll scrub in! Oh, my God, really?" She immediately put down her charts on the counter, staring at her person in disbelief and talking way too quickly.

"Yeah, older woman with a hernia. Surgery's scheduled for today afternoon, in a couple hours," Cristina explained, then eyed her carefully. "You sure you're fit to do this?"

"When haven't I?" Billie replied eagerly with a smile.

"Yeah, well." Cristina cocked a brow.

☆

"Hey, Alex!"

Hearing his name, Alex turned around only to meet eyes with Billie. His first instinct was to smile, and he almost did, but something stopped him from it. Instead, he kept walking down the hallway and allowed Billie to catch up to him.

"What?" he answered wryly.

Billie let it slide. "I'm scrubbing in on Cristina's solo surgery today, wanna scrub in too?"

"Uh, no, thanks. I'm fine," he said, then accelerated his step in order to leave her behind.

Billie stopped walking and watched, confused, as he walked away. "Alex!"

"What, Billie?" He turned with a huff.

"The fuck's wrong with you, man?" She threw her arms in the air, genuinely not understanding what it was that had happened for Alex to start behaving so incongruously weird around her.

"Nothing's wrong, it's just a stupid surgery." Alex rolled his eyes.

"No, you've been weird since this morning. What's up, dude?"

They both remained quiet for a second-one, expecting an answer; the other, not knowing how to give one.

"Look, I'll do the damn surgery." Alex huffed. "Just leave me alone, okay? Please."

And he walked away.

☆

"Billie."

Billie did not like the familiar voice pronouncing her name.

"What?" she replied without looking up from the charts on her lap.

Izzie surrounded the table and sat on the chair opposite to her. She watched for a second in silence as the brunette updated her charts with the straw of a carton of apple juice stuck between her lips, feeding her the sugary beverage every few seconds in order to keep her sugar levels high and stop herself from passing out. She had, in fact, not eaten anything, but she hadn't realized yet.

In the absence of Alex, Billie was trying to keep herself distracted with whatever came up, but she knew facing Izzie right now would most likely only make her snap. She was not in the mood to yell at anyone.

When Izzie didn't say anything, however, Billie looked up, annoyed. "What?"

"Can I ask you a question?" the blonde asked meekly.

"You already did," she replied boredly.

Izzie stayed silent. "You don't like me very much."

"Really? What gave me away?" Billie rolled her eyes with an annoyed sort of sarcasm dripping from her words.

"Billie, please, just look at me."

When the brunette heard the desperation on Izzie's voice, despite the fact that she hated her, or the fact that she had ruined her entire mental health, or the fact that she had killed the one person she used to care for, Billie decided to go against all of her Izzie-hating principles and look up. The blonde seemed exhausted.

"What is it?" Billie asked this time, voice solemn, like stone.

Izzie hesitated. She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, but then closed it, and then opened it again.

"There's this patient," she said. "She's got... stage four metastatic melanoma with mets on her skin, liver and brain. And she's refusing treatment."

"Why?"

"Because..." Izzie looked down. "She's scared of what people will say."

"Why is she scared?"

"Because she thinks people will view her as weak. Or troubled, maybe. I don't know."

"So, she's putting her life at risk because of people's opinion?" Billie cocked a brow.

Izzie let out a breathy laugh, but it didn't reach her eyes. "There's is a five percent chance of survival, it's not just people's opinion."

"One in a million chances is still a chance."

"Barely."

"You agree with her, that she should refuse treatment?" Billie frowned.

"No, I-!" Izzie seemed frustrated. "The chances of her dying are much greater than the chances of her surviving."

"When has that ever stopped anyone?"

"Why are you trying to contradict me?" Izzie shook her head.

"I'm not contradicting you, I'm trying to understand what it is that you're asking here." Billie shrugged.

"I'm asking for your help," she almost begged. "I'm asking you to tell me what to do."

"Treatment!" Billie scoffed. "You have to at least try to convince her to get treated, and if she'd rather go about her life and live what's left of it, then that's her call. But she has to know that she's got very little time left-within two months from now, she won't be able to recognize her family. Within three, half her body could be paralyzed. And within six to twelve, she will possibly be dead."

Both girls took a second to remain silent, staring into each others eyes. And, although Billie was not able to hear what Izzie was trying to say, the blonde felt a little at ease.

☆

This time, when Billie walked into the scrub room of OR 6 and caught sight of Alex, she didn't bother to greet. The fact that he was ignoring her-ghosting her, almost-made her uncontrollably mad. She'd never felt comfortable around unpredictable individuals or around people that she could not read, which was why said situation caused her extreme amounts of anger.

That's why, when she saw Alex standing by the sink, scrubbing his hands and arms and wearing the typical disposable scrub cap, she simply rolled her eyes and headed towards the faucet that was the furthest away from him, where she started scrubbing.

As she was so in touch with her emotions, with her every action and reaction, she managed to keep a straight face. She managed to not glance at him. She managed to pretend he didn't exist. Billie Black did not chase people who made her feel worthless.

What she did not realize, though, was that she was scrubbing so hard that her skin was close to peeling off.

"Careful over there," Alex said, eyeing her movements subtly.

Billie clenched her jaw and said nothing.

"You're gonna get hurt," he talked, again.

"Okay," said Billie.

"Hey."

This time, Alex let go of his sponge and took a step towards her, attempting to grab at her hands, but she pulled away and glared at him.

"Step away," she said as she rinsed her hands, "please."

"Billie, you-"

"Oh, so now you're talking to me? I thought you told me to leave you alone."

"I didn't mean-"

"Bite me." Billie tossed her sponge and entered the OR, leaving Alex behind in the scrub room.

In there, the patient was already laying on the operating table, not yet anesthetized. Cristina stood by her side, getting herself ready, and many other scrub nurses walked around the room, preparing the OR for the operation. Dr. Bailey was in there as well, standing by the table but not intending to operate.

"We ready for this?" Billie asked as a scrub nurse gowned and gloved her.

"Wait! I'm sorry," the patient said, panicky, as the anesthesiologist got the happy gas ready. "I need one thing from you before I go under." Cristina leant in as Billie approached the operating table, just when Alex joined them in the OR, seeming angry. "I haven't asked for much. You haven't answered my questions and I understand that you're busy, but I'm scared. I don't wanna die. I wanna go on a tour of Russia with my friends next year. I may just be a batty old lady to you, and this may be a silly little procedure, but I need you to tell me that it's gonna be okay. You're my surgeon, after all."

Cristina breathed in deeply, like showing a compassion Billie did not know existed in her. "This isn't a silly procedure to me, Ms. Sulley. And I will get you through this."

"Okay. Thank you," the woman sighed shakily. "I'm ready now."

As Alex stood by Billie by the operating table, avoiding her eyes, the anesthesiologist finally anesthetized Ms. Sulley, and they were ready for surgery.

However, a few seconds went by and Cristina didn't move. She looked down at the spot where she was supposed to do the incision, then at the instrument tray, then back at the patient. Billie frowned, her first thought being that, as it was her first solo surgery, perhaps she was panicking. But it was Cristina-Cristina didn't panic.

Then, the woman looked up and stared into Alex's eyes. "Izzie has stage four metastatic melanoma that has spread to her brain, liver and skin. She may only have months to live and she's resisting treatment." Cristina sighed. "She needs help."

A deafening silence took over the OR. Cristina swallowed.

"Scalpel."

And to Billie, everything clicked.