I know this is short, but I really wanted to update it before I went to bed! Hope you enjoy, I quite liked writing it.

Izzie and Alex are sitting on the couch, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. It is rare the two of them are off from work at the same time, at a decent hour, when no one else is around and they can just stay and be by themselves. And so they're taking advantage of it. Not in the way they might usually have, they're not upstairs in her bedroom, or in his car, or anything like that. They're just sitting together. And it's nice, to just sit.

It's peaceful and calming, and the smart part of Izzie's brain tells her to just leave it alone, and let the peace and calm remain. This is the scared, cowardly part of her brain. But the other part, the stupid, brave part of her brain, tells Izzie to tell him now. Because every day she doesn't tell him, she gets closer to not being there. And while it would be easier, sure, to never tell him, she knows she can't do that.

"Alex?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

She's pretty sure she can feel his smile as he kisses the top of her head. "I love you too, Iz."

"But there's something I need to tell you." She lifts her head from his shoulder. It would be easier to leave it there, and not see his face. It seems like Izzie is in the mood for being difficult today.

"Everything okay?"

"Not really," she says, knowing it is not fair to tell him everything is okay, when in fact she is dying. She thinks it over for a minute, trying to plan it out. Then she stops with the planning and goes right ahead and starts talking.

"You know how I told you I was seeing Denny?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"Well, I guess I didn't really tell you in the.. right way. It wasn't just me seeing him once or twice. I saw him all the time and I actually thought he was real and then.. I figured out something was wrong. It took a while, and maybe if it hadn't, it wouldn't be so bad."

"Izzie," Alex's eyebrows are creased together. "What's going on?"

"Me seeing Denny and you know.. that couple times in the OR, when I thought things were closer or further away, or whatever, it wasn't just stress or.. or something else. It's.. it's metastatic melonama. And they said, it's pretty bad.. five percent survival rate and maybe.. a couple of months. To live."

Alex doesn't say anything, for a little while. Izzie figures this is normal, maybe for a minute or something. But then he starts to scare her. The look in his eyes, that lost, sad, angry look, makes shivers run up and down her arms. She takes his hand, a little unsure. She squeezes it.

He lifts his head, ever so slightly, and bends it towards her. His nose is touching hers, they are staring straight into each others eyes. She can see his hazel eyes, and her green eyes in his reflection. Izzie has been with men before, she's done a lot of things. But, strangely enough, this is the most shockingly intimate she's ever felt.

He lifts a finger and brings it to the outline of her jaw, stroking it lightly. "Oh, Iz." He finally says, softly and carefully.

Their eyes are both full, and her head drops onto his shoulder. He pulls his arms around her, holding her tightly. They can both feel their warm tears on each others skin, and Izzie realizes Meredith was right. Izzie was able to do it. She had done it, just then, she had told him. But it is the hardest thing Izzie has ever done in her life. And while, in one way, she is so happy he knows, in another completely different way, there is nothing she wants more than to take her words back, and for everything to be the way it was.

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Now that she has told Alex, there seems to be no way getting around telling George and Cristina, or the Chief for that matter. Izzie doesn't want any more teary encounters, filled with sorry looks and horribly pregnant silences. Izzie knows she will get off scot free with the tears and the hugs where Cristina and Chief are concerned. She's just not so sure about George.

That's why she wants to tell him somewhere private, where they can both get as emotional as they like. She knows the living room isn't the most private place to be, but Alex and Meredith are at the hospital, and Lexie and Mark are somewhere, probably doing something Izzie does not want to picture them doing.

George looks a little uncomfortable to be back in Meredith's house, Izzie notices that. It's been a while since the two of them were alone together, and an even longer while since they were alone together in this house.

It is sad, Izzie knows, that they used to be together all the time. They used to sit on this very couch and talk all night, Izzie had thought nothing of sleeping in his bed with him, of walking around the house in her underwear, while he watched TV or whatever. It used to all be so normal and now it's just so.. not.

Izzie is drinking tea and George is holding a can of orange soda. "So," he jiggles his knee a little bit. "What's up?"

"George?" She appears not to have heard his question.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For everything that happened with us. I.. I was a bitch, I know that. And you, you were never a bitch to me. You were nice and you were a good friend but I.. I wasn't, really. And I'm sorry about the way things are with us now. You're still my friend, George, and maybe it's not like the way it was before but.. but we're still friends."

George has a knack for waiting out Izzie's rambling talks. "Okay," he nods. "That's okay. It wasn't just you. And it wasn't just me. It was both of us and I.. you weren't a bitch. You really weren't."

"There's more," she cups her hands around the glass of tea, and then puts it back down on the table. Her hands are shaking a little bit, she doesn't trust them to hold the cup. "I'm dying, George. I have metastatic melonama. Skin, brain, liver." She hates the way that has come out. The beginning, like she has had it all rehearsed, the short, clipped way she tells him. She hates it.

"I was seeing Denny," she hurries on, realizing maybe she should have started with this first. "I.. I was seeing him all the time and I.. that's why."

Izzie doesn't know why, but this is so hard. Harder than she thought. Harder than telling Alex, but in a different way. "I'm sorry," she says, pitifully.

George has always been physical; maybe it is because the two of them had been best friends, really and truly best friends, but they always overlapped each other in some way or another. George's elbow touching Izzie's, their legs touching, she would lean against him when they sat down or stood up. They did all this unconsciously, maybe the way a mother unsconsiously touches her kids, the way a boy unknowingly scratches his dog's belly and behind his ears.

And now, the physical side is coming out again. He reaches for her hands, she lets him hold them. He rubs the small portion of skin stretched between her thumb and her index finger, with his own thumb. Then, she draws her legs up, resting her chin on her shins. He puts his arm around her, and she slides down, so that her head is resting somewhere between his shoulder and chest.

Izzie recognizes that this is the closest they have been in a long time. And also she recognizes how not weird it feels.

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She had told Cristina, the night before, and though ithad been emotional, it had not like it had been with everyone else. Cristina had been calm and maybe even a little stoic. But she is not a cold and heartless bitch. She had nodded and said all the right things. She had told Izzie she was going to make an appointment for her with the oncologist, and she'd go with her if she wanted. She had told Izzie that it was going to be hard, and that yes, five percent was not a lot. But it was better than nothing. She had also told Izzie that it was going to be the fight of her life, and she had to fight. Fight hard. And while Izzie had heard all these words before (she herself had said them a hundred times over) coming from Cristina, they meant something.

And now, the only people left to tell are the Chief and Bailey. She gets an appointment with the Chief, and then asks that Bailey be there too. She promises that she will make sense this time, be quick and straight to the point.

Even so, she surprises herself when she sits down, and says to them, "I'm not going to be able to work at the hospital anymore. I appreciate, so much, everything you have done for me, all the opportunities I have had and the chances that have been given to me. But I was diagnosed with metastatic melonama a few days ago, and I know that.. that as a surgeon, it is irresponsible for me to stay and work."

"Izzie.." Bailey says. "How.. what do they think.."

"They gave me a few months, if I'm lucky. They said chemo's an option, and immunotherapy, but even then.. a five percent chance of survival. So." Izzie swallows. "So I can't stay here any longer. I'm sorry," she wipes a few tears away from her eyes.

Bailey comes to the other side of her desk, and puts her hand on Izzie's shoulder. "Izzie, there are options. Aside from chemo, there are.. there's a surgery, they can try and help."

"I know that."

"Derek could do it. I don't just mean.. that he could do the procedure I mean.. maybe he could do it well."

"Yeah," Izzie nods her head. "He's not operating."

"He would," Richard says. "He would, for you. He would operate."

"We'll see," Izzie stands up.

"Izzie?" Miranda says. "I am so, so sorry."

"Yeah," Izzie smiles faintly. "Yeah, me too."