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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
six days, part one.
season three, episode eleven.

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That morning, Billie woke up to her alarm in a bed that wasn't her own, in a room that wasn't her own, at a place she only recognized as a hotel. However, differing from many other past mornings, this time, she was not alone.

Laying naked, Billie turned her head tiredly to her right, where she met eyes with a shirtless Mark. The clock blaring through the room had woken him too, but despite the fact that an alarm would've normally made his mood turn to shit, he woke up smiling.

Billie also drew a grin on her face and reached out her hand towards her bedside table, searching blindly for the digital clock before she finally managed to slap it silent. As soon as the room was quiet again, she smiled groggily and turned to her side.

"Morning." Mark smiled widely.

"Morning," she said back.

They had now been sleeping together for over a week, having thrown away all of the obstacles that stopped them from it. No more Alex, no more Addison, no more nothing that would hold them back, Billie and Mark rolled over to each other, bodies colliding together until hers finally ended up on top of his.

He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear and smiled. "Your bedhead's cute."

"That's what you said yesterday." Billie rolled her eyes playfully at his consistency. "And the day before."

"It's true," he said.

Mark then leant forward and laced their lips together into something that first came off as a chaste kiss, but soon swayed with a much more heated motion. They rolled over in bed so now he hovered on top of her, kissing her passionately. His hands slid up her sides to hoist himself up, but as he did, he came in contact with a certain something under the pillow.

Carefully, he pulled it out and then leant back, opening his eyes to stare at what he held in his hand. Billie's eyes also feathered open and her eyes landed on the twelve million dollar uncashed check.

"Explain yourself." Mark looked at her deadpan.

Billie hid her face under the pillow. "No."

"Are you serious? I told you to cash this! You're telling me I've been fucking you every day for the past week on top of a twelve million dollar check, and I didn't know about it?" He widened his eyes in utter horror, causing Billie to laugh.

"Maybe."

"Oh, my God!" He threw the piece of paper away and alienated it like it was on fire. "Why did you even bring it here!"

"I didn't wanna lose it! Okay?"

Billie removed the pillow from her face and let out a wholehearted chuckle at the man's reaction, being unable to stop laughing for a second due to the look on his face. When she finally managed to calm down, she wiped a tear from her eye and met his stern expression.

"Billie, you gotta deposit the damn thing," he said sharply, looking at her like a father who scolds his little kid.

She laughed at him. "Or what?"

"Or no more sex." He nodded firmly, standing his ground.

At the words, the smile was wiped away from Billie's face. She paused.

"Are you serious?" She lowered her voice.

"Yes."

It took her a second before she broke. "Fine. I'll deposit the damn thing."

"Good girl." Mark smiled widely.

"Shut up."

☆

"I'm gonna fucking kill you, Mark."

Billie stood in front of the bathroom mirror, already changed and ready to go. Behind her, Mark was still shirtless, speechless. They both stared at the huge hickey on Billie's neck.

"It's not that big," he said unsurely.

"Not that big? Mark, it looks like someone punched me repeatedly," she exclaimed exasperatedly. "How am I gonna hide this? I don't have any makeup here!"

"Well..."

"What?"

"I don't know, how is this my problem!"

"It is your problem! I have to go work now!"

Mark bit his lip nervously.

"Maybe just ignore it, pretend it's not there?" he suggested.

Billie's face fell and she stated sarcastically: "You're a fucking genius, Mark."

Then, she proceeded to storm out of the bathroom. Mark watched her go.

"Well, I was just saying!" he yelled after her, then took a look at himself in the mirror. "Christ."

☆

"How's Burke doing?" Izzie asked as her, Alex, Meredith, Cristina, George and Billie followed Bailey around for the daily rounds, which just so happened to start off with Harold O'Malley.

"I don't know," Cristina said carelessly with her eyes fixed on her phone.

"She doesn't know," George chorused.

"He just had surgery yesterday and you don't know how he's doing?" Alex arched an eyebrow, coming up behind Cristina.

"They're not speaking," Billie said as she stuck into her mouth a piece of mint gum.

"I thought they made up." Izzie frowned.

"They did, sort of," Meredith replied, bandwagoning the brunette's previous statement.

"But she's still... not speaking to him?"

"You know, Isobel, it's really not that hard," Billie deadpanned.

"He's not speaking to me," Cristina clarified Izzie's previous statement as the intern class still followed close behind Bailey.

"They're not speaking to each other," Meredith added.

The five interns stayed silent for a second, processing the mouthful of very confusing information they'd just gotten on the status quo on Burke and Cristina's relationship. However, the conversation began once again.

"Hey, did you ask Derek about Burke's hand?" Cristina asked.

"I don't wanna get in the middle of it! Derek and I are happy. Could we just keep it that way for a while?" Meredith argued.

"Hey, you could always swallow your pride and just ask him yourself." Billie arched a suggestive eyebrow, blowing a bubble with her gum which George burst by popping his finger into it. The girl slapped his hand away.

"Her gut's not big enough for that," Alex said.

George, Izzie and Meredith chuckled as Cristina faked a cry. "Oh, Alex, that hurt me."

The interns laughed together. In the midst of their chatter, Alex took a look at Billie and couldn't help but frown.

"What is that?" he asked, sighting the dark bruise on the side of her neck.

"What is what?" she answered uninterestedly, but was quick to remember what was on her neck and her eyes widened. She was quick to try and hide it under her hand. "Oh, it's nothing."

"Is that a hickey?" Alex asked.

"No! Lower your voice, will you?" Billie pulled him slightly away from the rest of the interns, not wanting them to hear the conversation. "It's nothing, okay? Don't go around yelling."

But unlike Meredith and Cristina, who'd seen the hickey back in the locker room, Alex did not seem amused in the slightest. In fact, his face was turning red.

"Who did that to you?" he questioned, trying to take a closer look at it. "Was it Sloan?"

"It wasn't Mark, okay?"

But Alex was already sure of it. He clenched his jaw and tried his best at concealing his jealousy.

"That's really childish of you, you know? You better hide it," he stated angrily, avoiding her eyes.

"Childish? What the fuck are you talking about?" Billie frowned, startled by his sudden harshness. Then, she realized. "Are you jealous?"

"I'm not jealous," Alex quickly clarified.

Billie gritted her teeth. "Maybe now's the time to remind you that it was you who kissed Izzie two days after you promised me you'd wait for me to be ready, so I don't think you get the right to be jealous over this."

Alex stared her down, his jaw so tight Billie feared he might snap a teeth.

"You know what? Yeah, it was Mark," she said furiously. "I'm fucking him, so what? We're over."

Billie stormed away, leaving Alex standing alone, his face contorted angrily. But she didn't look back, and simply caught up to her intern class, that was already arriving at Harold O'Malley's room.

George's father had finally been moved from the ICU to a regular long-term patient room, and the space was now decorated with balloons, treats, food baskets and, on top of all, a particularly noisy and extended family: the O'Malley's.

As soon as they walked in, the interns were invaded by noise-a lot of noise-since they were all laughing loudly.

"Georgie!" Harold called out, causing the entire family to turn around, wearing party bonnets. The man laughed. "Everyone, quiet down!"

"Morning, everybody," Louise, George's mother, greeted as the family slowly toned down. Alex arrived to the room a second later, red in the face.

"Good morning." Webber smiled once he was in the room, following the intern class inside. "Who's presenting?"

"Oh, can Georgie do it? He's real good," Harold requested eagerly, causing the family to burst into a loud string of yeah's. Billie laughed amusedly.

"Uhm... Harold O'Malley, sixty-three, status: post-aortic valve replacement. Morning chest x-ray showed no atelectasis after aggressive CPT for the last two days. Scheduled for a transhiatal esophagectomy tomorrow morning at nine," he said, voice slowly trailing off. There was an awkward silence. "That's it."

The entire O'Malley family dedicated the young intern a standing ovation, cheering him on with smiles on their faces. Billie grinned fondly and patted her friend in the back, but he seemed quite uncomfortable.

"For the next few minutes, I think it would be best if the... extended family could wait out in the waiting area." Bailey laughed as the silence invaded them again, although shortly.

Once the family began booing, Harold smiled. "Just a few minutes, guys, then you can come back."

The crowd all agreed and made a beeline out the door, making sure to greet George and stretch his hand on their way out. The room was slowly emptied out of any O'Malley's, excluding father, mother and three sons, until it was only the doctors left.

"How are you feeling, Mr. O'Malley?" Bailey asked.

"He's feeling great." Louise smiled proudly, wearing a sparkly purple party bonnet while she stroked her husband's head. "Better than ever, he said. Which is why we had everybody come out today because we figured after today, he maybe won't be feeling so great for a while."

"After the surgery, then when do we start chemo and stuff?" Harold asked.

"That protocol depends on what we find when we open you up, Harold," Webber replied.

The man's face fell. "What do you mean what you find?"

"Black?" Bailey turned towards her intern in the search for the answers to the question.

"Good morning, Harold, Louise," Billie first greeted with a smile, earning one in response from both man and woman. "There's only so much they can tell from labs and scans, so they really need to get a good look inside to see if the cancer has spread."

"And, if it's spread, that changes how much chemo he needs?" Louise asked, worrisome.

Webber paused. "That changes a lot of things."

"Like what?"

There was a moment of silence; a short second which George used to glance over at Billie for the needed comfort, that she offered him by smiling very briefly. He nodded shakily.

"I'll let the oncologist explain that to you later today, Harold," Richard finally concluded. "And Dr. Grey will be taking you through a final battery of preoperative tests before we go, so..."

"So it would be best if the party went home," Bailey finished off his sentence.

Both Louise's and Harold's smiles faltered completely. The former took off her bonnet as the latter looked away, disappointment in his eyes.

☆

George, Izzie, Alex, Cristina, Meredith and Billie stood in the patient room together with Bailey and Callie, where a patient with a severely curved spine left the bathroom, hunched over parallel to the floor. They watched her wobble her way to the bed, struggling to keep up.

"You okay, honey?" her mother asked, standing up to help her.

"Yeah," she replied breathily. "Can you just help me?"

The mother did as told. Once the bed, the patient, named Heather Douglas, turned to look over her shoulder, catching the eye of all the doctors. She glared them all down.

"What are you all staring at?" Heather spat out. "Really, if you're expecting me to be the brave and heartwarming differently-abled girl, that isn't gonna happen. So go ahead and do your thing."

Bailey nodded with a frown at the girl's rude behavior and then walked up to her, asking for the needed consent before she was unbuttoning Heather's patient gown from behind. "Black?"

The woman in question took a step forward, slightly taken aback by the physically visible curvature of the girl's back. "Heather Douglas, seventeen, past medical history of VATER syndrome."

"Which is?"

"Genetic condition that affects the vertebra, anus, trachea, esophagus and renal system."

"Wow! Give this girl a medal. She memorized the whole acronym. Which, I assure you, is a hell of a lot easier than living with it," Heather spoke with sarcasm, intending to be hurtful, but Billie understood her behavior was coming from a place of pain.

She simply nodded. "Heather is in today for lithotripsy to remove kidney stones and thoracoplasty to alleviate pressure on her lungs."

There was a moment of silence before Callie, who had been observing in silence, spoke. "Can I ask? I know I'm just supposed to be here to remove a few ribs, but I'm wondering if you have ever tried anything more radical to treat the spinal curvature?"

"Let's see." Heather clicked her tongue. "If by more radical you mean having a steel rod inserted into my spine, then yeah. We've tried. The rod just bent."

For some reason, Izzie decided to interfere, causing both Heather and Billie to roll their eyes in sync. "Removing kidney stones may seem minor, but it will really improve your quality of life."

"Really? So this surgery is gonna get me laid?"

"Heather, stop it," her mother said.

"Mom, I'm sorry, but she's talking about improving my quality of life." She shook her head. "And I don't think doctors should make promises they can't keep."

☆

"Hey, I need a CBC and a CHEM-7 on Harold O'Malley," Meredith asked to the guy working up in the laboratory.

Billie followed her close behind and then leant onto the counter. "Hi, can you get me a BMP and a CMP on Heather Douglas, please? Thanks."

"I need these labs ASAP," Cristina added from behind them, handing him a plastic bag with the samples.

"Everybody needs everything ASAP," he said glaringly.

"Oh, yes. And all throughout this hospital, people are dying while you give me crap about ASAP," Cristina mocked, then turned to Meredith. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Your father?" Cristina arched an eyebrow.

"Freezing up on rounds?" Billie added.

"Oh, God, that was mortifying." The former shook her head.

"Thank you. Thanks," Meredith said sarcastically.

"Oh, okay. It wasn't mortifying?"

The blonde stayed silent for a second, thoughtful. "I just wish the baby would get well and go home and Thatcher would go with her. Is that wrong?"

"Well, technically, no," Billie reasoned.

"Wrong would be if you wished the baby wouldn't get well." Cristina added.

"Okay, good. Thanks." Meredith nodded.

"You know, if you wanna thank me, you could ask Derek if Burke has had any tremors."

"God, just talk to him, will you?" Billie smacked her friend's shoulder softly.

"No, because then he wins."

"Wins what?"

Cristina stood quiet for a second, trying to get her best friends to understand her just by the look on her eyes, but she finally gave up. "Forget it."

"Wait, let me guess: you two are playing a game of who's the most stubborn. First to break loses." Billie arched an eyebrow. "Am I close?"

Cristina rolled her eyes at her playfully. Billie sighed and leant against the wall, hands latched together behind her lower back.

"Shut up, Sloan gave you a hickey," Cristina retaliated.

Finally, after a brief second of thinking, Meredith looked at them.

"Do you guys have a father?" she asked.

"Yes. Well, no. Yes. No. I don't know." Billie shook her head and then remained silent, but had no choice but to further elaborate when she saw the confusion on her friends' faces. "He's not my father. He's just the guy who I vaguely remember taking me to daycare when I was six. And then, the guy who used to beat me up every chance he got. God knows where he's at these days. Probably dead, if the universe is kind to me."

Cristina and Meredith stared at her in shock at her sudden words, unsure of how to take them. However, in the end, the former opted to click her tongue and look at the blonde.

"I have a stepfather," she said. "He's nice. I see him for Yom Kippur."

☆

"You're way too hot to be a doctor," Heather commented as Billie took a blood sample from her. "I mean, aren't people who look like you supposed to be dumb?"

The intern laughed slightly. "Uh, right."

"I'm just saying. You're not gonna be in my surgery, are you? Because I'm a little too young to die."

Billie crouched down a little to look into her eyes, "Nobody dies on my watch, Heather. Not anymore. And yes, I will be on your surgery."

"Uh, no, thank you. You're like, what? Nineteen?" Heather looked her up and down with an eyebrow raised condescendingly.

"Nope. I was nineteen when I graduated from college. You know, the place where you usually graduate from at twenty-two?" Billie gestured with her head. "I'm twenty-four now, in case you were wondering."

Heather frowned at her. "So... you're, like, a prodigy?"

"Yeah, you could say so." Billie shrugged in agreement.

"You know, my mother wasn't too kin on the idea of you being my doctor," Heather stated.

Billie frowned. "Why?"

"The hickey." The girl gestured with her head towards her neck. "She says it's unprofessional."

Billie immediately blushed and tried to hide the bruise with the neck of her scrub top, but Heather simply laughed it off.

"I think it's cool though," she said. "I've never gotten one."

"It's not that big of a deal," Billie explained, a little flushed in the face. "Really, they bring more problems than solutions.

The two laughed while the intern inserted the needle into Heather's arm and took the blood sample. Just then, Izzie walked into the room, carrying a sample kit, which Billie eyed curiously.

"What are you doing?" she asked, causing her to turn.

"Oh, sorry. I thought I was the one who was gonna take Heather's samples," Izzie said quietly.

"That's what I'm doing, and if you had taken the time to actually listen to Bailey, you would've known." Billie smiled patronizingly.

The girl shook her head, "I- I'll just go."

"Please do."

Izzie stayed still for a second, but finally huffed out and left the room, carrying the sample kit with her. Billie smirked triumphantly once she was gone, but Heather, who had been listening to the conversation between both parties, raised an eyebrow.

"Clearly a story there," she said. "Do share."

Billie froze for a second and looked down at the girl, then licked her lips. "You really wanna know?"

"Uh-huh."

She leant in forward and whispered. "That's the bitch that went nuts and killed my uncle."

"For real?" Heather laughed slightly at the choice of words. Billie nodded. "Well, so much for my theory that life doesn't suck for pretty people." The intern laughed very softly through her nose. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch to you."

"Well, you're in pain," Billie reasoned. "There's people who are just plain bitches for no reason at all, if you know what I'm talking about."

Intern and patient laughed at one another, understanding the hidden meaning behind Billie's comment.

☆

That following morning, Billie woke up to the sound of rain and the big smile that was wide on her face. She'd always loved the sound, the sight and the smell of a storm; watching the little droplets zigzag down the window in all directions; experiencing the bolt of lightning when the sky got lit up by a ramification of its electricity.

However, while she thought about what a great day it would be, she looked down and noticed the undeposited check still laying untouched on her bedside table. Billie had chosen to take it out of its spot under her pillow to start thinking about what to do with it, but the sole sight of it was a painful reminder of how some things were still very not okay.

Notwithstanding, before she could think further into it, she realized her bed lacked the usual warmth she'd been waking up to every morning: Mark wasn't there. There was a print on the mattress where his body used to lay, since Billie was also sure they had gone to sleep together, but he was no longer there, so she stared at his side of the bed in silence, wondering where he was.

☆

Already on her scrubs, Billie sat on a chair in Harold O'Malley's room, waiting for him to wake up. They were hours away from the surgery that would determine whether his cancer had spread or not, and she knew it was a very emotional time for the O'Malley family, so she just wanted to be there to offer her support.

A few minutes went by before Harold's eyes were slowly peeling open, body awakening. Billie sat upright once he did and smiled when they locked eyes, causing him to grin softly at the sight of the young girl who he had grown particularly affectionate towards.

"Good morning, Harold." She nodded politely.

"Dr. B!" He laughed vividly.

Billie had gradually grown attached to George's father, as her doctor and as her friend, so she couldn't help but feel slightly concerned about the surgery. She didn't want to bring the topic right away, but the gnawing feeling on the back of her throat caused her to do so regardless.

"Your surgery's today," she reckoned with a pensive expression.

Harold nodded. "Indeed."

"How are we feeling?"

"Honestly?" He began with a big smile, seeming really out of place for a person suffering such terrible disease. "Very well. I'm gonna beat this cancer, like you said."

"I know you will." She nodded kindly, but when silence followed, she couldn't help but bite the corner of her lip subtly out of pure anxiety. Harold noticed.

"What are you nervous about, dear?" he asked kindly, analyzing her features in the search for an answer.

"Well, it's just..." she began, but cut herself off. "You know this surgery has a fifty percent morbidity rate, right?"

"Well, then, Dr. B, that means that fifty percent of people who have this surgery survive, doesn't it?" He smiled radiantly.

"And the other fifty percent doesn't."

"So then it's up to fate."

Billie frowned in concern, "And you're ready to risk your life over fate? Over a fifty percent that stands on both sides, and you don't know what side you'll land on?"

"Dear. Us, O'Malley's, we... we're fighters. We fight, is what we do. My wife... we've been married for forty years. Forty years. She needs me, my family needs me. I can't leave them." Harold paused, taking a deep breath. "So yes, I'm very much willing to risk my life over fate, because if fate's the one to decide whether I'll get to keep my family or not, then I'll trust it to do the right thing."

Billie looked at him sympathetically and Harold took the opportunity to grab her hand and give it a firm squeeze, making her shed a small smile. He reciprocated the grin.

"It will break him if you die. George, he... he won't make it." Billie shook her head.

"He will." Harold pressed his lips together. "We're fighters, remember? This is what we do: we fight."

☆

Billie stood in Heather Douglas' room together with her mother, Callie and Derek, who had been called in to try and fix Heather's spinal curvature. He was skimming through her chart and speaking.

"Heather, I've looked at your case history, and I know you've been through other very painful and unsuccessful surgeries. But if you're up for it, I think I can significantly help with the spinal curvature," he said.

"By 'help' you mean what, exactly?" Heather squinted her eyes at him.

"I mean I think I can get you standing up straight."

"Are you messing with me? 'Cause it's not nice to mock crippled kids."

Derek walked up to the light panel on the wall and pointed to the x-ray hung on it. "You see this curved part here? I'd remove it."

Billie's eyes widened a little in surprise due to how experimental such surgery would be, but she smiled ever the slightest.

"You- You wanna remove a portion of my daughter's spine?" the mother asked in disbelief.

"Uh-huh. And I would replace it with a titanium mesh cage that would fill the space between the vertebra."

"I've seen case studies. There've been quite a few successes," Callie interfered with a big, toothy smile.

"And the ones that aren't successful?" the mother asked, oblivious to Heather's on-growing smile.

Now, Callie paused. "They result in paralysis or death."

"But- But Dr. Shepherd is the best there is," Billie decided to interfere, looking into Heather's eyes for a second.

The mother paused. "She's seventeen."

"Mom, I know you still think death is the worst thing that can happen to a person." Heather shook her head. "Death is not the worst thing." Without waiting for her mother's response, she looked over at Billie. "I'm in."

☆

Harold O'Malley's surgery went by uneventful. Or at least that's what Billie would've wanted to say.

She had decided to watch the whole procedure from the OR gallery, not wanting to miss out on any bits as Webber, Bailey and Meredith operated on him. She had seen them when they had finally cut him open and she had noticed how much the tumor had spread... but she hadn't understood why they had opted to move forward with the surgery when the sane option, if they didn't want to risk multi-system organ failure, was to close him up.

Her heart had been beating erratically ever since and now, Billie, Bailey and Meredith guided George and his family into Harold's ICU room, where the man was still under general anesthesia and the incision was being cleaned by two nurses.

The three surgeons walked into the room and waited patiently as George talked to his family for a second. Billie's eyes were fixed on Harold on the bed, where the nurses applied betadine to a surgery incision that spread from his throat all the way down his stomach. She couldn't stop thinking about what she had witnessed up in the OR gallery, and how she couldn't figure it out.

Finally, the O'Malley's walked into the room.

It was first Louise, then Ronny, Jerry and, finally, George. He froze under the doorsill as his mother took a second to kiss Harold's forehead and welcome him back, but something about seeing his father breathing through a tube with a twenty-inch-long scar on his abdomen made George struggle with his breathing. He hid behind the door and Billie noticed, so she walked out.

"You need to breathe," she said, holding her hand out to him, which he took harshly as if he had no balance or control over himself whatsoever.

His hand shook violently as their fingers remained laced together, and he just stared into the complete nothingness in front of him, waiting for the panic to pass.

"He's my dad," he whispered shakily. "He's my dad."

Billie nodded, feeling her eyes watering, and leant her head on George's shoulder, hugging him against her and fighting the urge to cry.

"I know, Georgie," she breathed out. "I know."

☆

Up in the NICU, Addison and Alex stood very close to each other, only mere inches of space separating their lips from touch. They glided closer with every second, but when the door was slammed open, their proximity was broken away like blowing grains of sand. Under the doorsill, Billie's mouth opened very slightly, product of the shock that the scene in front of her had caused her. Addison and Alex pulled away from one another and didn't dare to look each other in the eye, clearing their throats awkwardly.

Billie didn't want to be a hypocrite. Really, she didn't want to be the kind of girl who got mad when her ex-boyfriend moved on while she was doing the same thing. But when she noticed that the lips he intended to kiss weren't hers, she had to admit... it hurt.

"Billie, hey." Alex looked at her, speaking quietly as embarrassed.

It took her a second to regain her senses. She stuttered out a few incoherent sounds, switching her eyes from Alex to Addison in utter shock. Finally, she cleared her throat.

"I'm- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything," she said, looking down at the floor shortly, avoiding Alex's eyes at all costs. "I need to talk to Dr. Montgomery."

The redhead nodded and then looked at Alex, gesturing for him to go. He agreed and walked towards the door, intense eyes fixed on Billie, and he stood for a second in front of her to give out an explanation before he made up his mind to simply walk past her and out of the room.

"What is it?" Addison asked tiredly, snapping Billie out of her daze.

"Well, I was, uh," she began, walking up towards her for more intimacy on the topic. "I know you- you know Mark. I mean, I know him too, very personally, but it's just... I cannot figure out what's wrong with him. He's... he's not talking to me and I haven't seen him all day. He's just... not there."

Addison kept silence for a second before she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I have no idea."

"Really? Nothing he ever told you? I know he really likes you." Billie chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her neck.

The redhead looked around warily as if to make sure no one was listening, causing the brunette's expression to twitch in the hold for her next words. Addison proceeded to lean a bit forward and lower her voice.

"Listen, Billie, I know you're Derek's friend. But you have to promise me you won't say a word about this to him," she said eerily. Billie nodded and Addison paused. "Mark and I, we were... together. It's been almost a year since that, but we were really involved. And eight months from today... I got pregnant. I wasn't planning on telling him, Mark, I just- I wanted my kid to be Derek's, not his. But I told him about the pregnancy anyway. A pregnancy which I aborted. Today was the due date," she said. "He's grieving. Mark's grieving."

Billie leant backwards in reflex at her words, oblivious to all of the information she'd just received until then. The news came like a total shock, a punch to the gut that she had not seen coming.

"You and Mark had..." She shook her head in disbelief. "You and Mark were gonna have a baby?"

"No, no, we weren't gonna have a baby. I was pregnant, but I wasn't gonna keep it," Addison corrected, waving her hands awkwardly in front of herself as she explained thoroughly.

Billie nodded her head slowly, still trying to process the information, before running out of the NICU with a bitter taste on the back of her throat.

☆

"Billie!"

Billie rolled her eyes when she heard his voice.

"What, Alex?" she huffed out.

"Let me explain it to you, please," he begged, catching up to her, making her stop in her tracks. Billie placed her hands on her hips and stared at him tiredly.

"Explain what?"

"What you saw. It's not what you think it is," Alex began.

"I don't think anything, Alex, we're moving on. That's all. I'm fucking Mark, you're... doing your thing." Billie rolled her eyes. "It's whatever."

She tried to walk away, but Alex clutched her wrist.

"Billie, I know I hurt you," he said sincerely. "I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have kissed Izzie. I know that, I'm an asshole."

"I really don't care."

"Just let me-" Alex sighed. "Look, I really did mean it when I told you I'd wait for you."

"Doesn't seem like it." Billie flashed her eyebrows, starting to get annoyed. Alex didn't have an answer to that. "Can I go now?"

"Billie, please..."

"Alex, I'm serious. It's okay," she stated. "Yes, I was... really hurt to hear that you kissed Izzie. I wasn't expecting it, I thought we had agreed on waiting. But it's okay, I've understood what it is that you want. You wanna be with Izzie? With Addison? Go ahead, do as you please. I'm not gonna hold you back."

"Billie-"

"Let's just drop it, okay?" Billie cut him off, then left.

Alex was left standing with the need to tell her that she couldn't watch her go about her own when all he wanted was to be with her. But he couldn't say anything now.

☆

"You cheap son of a bitch bastards are going straight to hell!" Heather Douglas' mother cried out into her phone. "Straight to hell!"

Billie and Bailey, who just so happened to be walking by the landing strip together, heard her screaming and decided to approach her, concerned over her very evidently distraught stance.

"Mrs. Douglas?" Billie called out.

The woman looked up as she hang up the call. "Insurance bastards. They say the surgery's too experimental."

Bailey understood and let out a sigh. "They won't pay."

"It's a two hundred thousand dollar surgery. Plus the hospital stay, plus rehab," she cried. "Even if I get three jobs... son of a bitch bastards."

Heather's mother proceeded to storm away, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. Bailey and Billie watched her go until she took a turn and was lost down a hallway, to which the resident huffed.

"Unless we get that money, then it looks like there won't be a surgery after all," she said. "Sorry, Black."