Disclaimer: I don't own total drama

Thanks for the reviews! It has been one heck of a long time since I updated this...

Note: this fic is set after TDWT but in a sort of alternative thing where All Stars didn't happen and Alejandro was not in the stupid Robot suit.

Once again, a reminder: I hope no one who has had cancer or known someone with cancer finds this insensitive, and I apologise if anything I put in here is incorrect.

Also, I typed this via my IPad, so please excuse any weird typos that are due to autocorrect.

Cancer.

Cancer... Chemotherapy... Surgery...

The words swam around in Heather's head until every syllable sounded odd and strained.

Cancer. Surgery. Chemotherapy.

Each word held a stark, terrifing reality. The doctor had told her that before any other treatment, surgery would be imperative- remove as much of the malignant tumor as possible, and if that was unsuccessful then she would have to take doses of chemotherapy to shrink it further. Heather had never undergone surgery before, not even for anything minor like tooth extraction or tonsil or mole removal, and now she was faced with a drastic procedure that involved cutting open her stomach and removing a section of the lining. Even if the surgery was successful, it could potentially affect her digestive system for the rest of her life. Chemotherapy was equally as terrifying- she'd heard enough stories of how excruciating it felt for some people while undergoing the procedure, not to mention the hideous side effects that were almost inevitable- internal bleeding, vomiting and nausea due to extreme damage to the stomach cells and the infamous hair loss, something that devastated Heather- if surgery was unsuccessful, then it would be likely that, after only just regrowing them, she would have to watch her prized raven locks deteriorate...

However, the most nightmarish was the cancer itself. A disease that wouldn't stop spreading and leaching the energy and life from every inch of her body... A killer...

She didn't know what to say, and finally choked out the first question that came to her head.

"Is there a chance that I won't need to do the chemo?" Heather stared hollowly at the doctor. The man gave her a sympathetic look, though Heather scowled in response-sympathy, she thought viciously, wasn't going to cure her...

"Many people are apprehensive about the chemotherapy due to the high risk of side effects,"he informed her. "If we are able to successfully remove the tumor, then it might not be neccessary."

"What are the chances of that?" her mother cut in, voice hoarse from crying. The Doctor's face slipped into a grim mask that immediately poisoned Heather's hope.

"Unfortunately, that is unlikely as the tumor has already begun to spread."

She felt her blood run cold. Heather was clinging onto the hope that surgery would work, but it seemed like a fine thread that could easily snap. If it didn't work, then flashes of the life that potentially awaited her shot through her brain. Living in and out of hospitals, being stared at by passers by, having to have ruthless chemicals injected into her... She would be a cancer patient. Her life would never be normal again- even if she was cured, then she would have had to live through that traumatic experience, an experience that was every human's nightmare.

So many things that Heather had wanted to do with her life marched through her head, each one another stab to the chest. What if she didn't ever live to achieve them?

Heather felt her hands clench around the sheets in the hospital bed, fingers scrabbling at the stiff, grainy fibres tensely. She was lost for words now, completely stunned as though she'd been hit on the head with a mallet. Her mouth fell open, then closed, trying to choke out words but failing as she forced herself to grasp the reality of the situation.

The tumor has already begun to spread...

Heather searched for her mother's hand, interlocking her fingers tightly with it, trying to stop the tears from shedding. It was a childish gesture, grabbing her mother's hand, but it was comforting all the same, and right now comfort was something Heather needed.

"No."

Chris sighed irritably, voice slightly crackly over the phone.

"Look, Al," He tried to persuade Alejandro slowly. "It's in your contract, remember? Everyone else is going, anyway. Even Hea-"

"Don't say that name!" Alejandro cut the host off abruptly, gritting his teeth. He was extremely aggravated by Chris's persistence; he had phoned the host to announce that he would NOT be attending the stupid reunion that was looming over the total drama cast, and Chris had spent a good ten minutes trying to pursuade him why he needed to come. However, Alejandro was admament; he was not going to be dragged back into anything to do with the wretched show that had already cost him so much. The mention of Heather's name just made things worse; he couldn't bear to even think about her right now- every memory of her face dragged with it a memory of the flames that ripped at him due to her betrayal.

"Okay," Chris sighed, exasperated. "Look, Al, it's part of your contract, got it? If you don't come, then we're entitled to take legal action..."

Alejandro cursed loudly in spanish, gripping his cell phone so tightly he was surprised that the casing didn't snap and crumble under his tense grip. He truly despised Chris right now, and was tempted to stubbornly decide that he would prefer being sued over having to spend another few hours with the total drama cast- the cast who had run over him, not even bothering to go around, and trampled him into the sand, leaving him as good as dead.

"Why does it even matter if I show up?" he hissed angrily, and Chris chuckled obnoxiously on the other end of the phone.

"Al, Al, Al," he tutted condescendingly, and the intentional look of Alejandro's mosy despised nickname sent the Spaniard's eye twitching manically for a moment. "You know we need you there, right? Think of the drama it'll cause! You're now the number two most hated competitor!"

"What an honour," Alejandro muttered sardonically. He didn't honestly care how popular has was with the audience and even the other competitors any more. The game was over for him, and even if he was going to be forced to attend the reunion, he didn't care what the others thought of him. The only reason why he was irritated by Chris's statement was that he had a pretty good guess as to who was the number 1 hated contestant in total drama history, and he felt a bitter sting tear through his body.

"So, can I count on you coming?" Chris grinned from the other end, and Alejandro's face hardened at how presumptions he was being.

"I didn't say that-" he began furiously, but Chris deliberately ignored what he'd said.

"Great!" the host smirked, before hanging up with a click. Alejandro cursed once more in Spanish, before hurling the cell phone across the room angrily. It seemed inevitable that he was going to end up making an appearance at the reunion, and at the reunion it was inevitable that he would see the backstabbing snake (also known as Heather). The mere memory of her made his scars, though thanks to very expensive surgery and treatment they were barely visible unless thrown under fluorescent light, prick up again. She was probably perfectly happy, he thought bitterly, laughing to herself at how she'd outwitted him and not taking a single moment to consider the suffering he'd been through. Well, one thing was for sure- he was not going to be kind to her at the reunion. He wouldn't even acknowledge her, he decided harshly, but would just treat her like she didn't exist.

After all, she deserved it, didn't she?

Three days after her diagnosis, Heather sat stiffly in a chair while another doctor- no, oncologist- reviewed her medical files. She had been barely human for the past few days; her mother had watched through the tears in her eyes and Heather withdrew completely into herself. She didn't speak to anyone, communicating only with glowering looks. The only good sign was that Heather had been forcing food into her system at each meal, but that was quickly reversed when her mother awoke in the middle of the night to hear Heather throwing up violently into the toilet- evidently, her system was rejecting any sustenance.

Heather twisted her hands in her lap during a very pregnant pause, as the doctor stared at her ultrasound. She'd been in shock for the past few days, but her appointment with the oncologist had brought her back to reality.

"I'm going to schedule you for surgery as soon as possible," he informed her. "The tumour's aggressive, but there's a small chance we could contain it if we remove a section of your stomach lining, along with the lymph nodes nearby."

"And if surgery doesn't work..." Heather deadpanned, but she already knew the answer before the oncologist responded.

"You will have to undergo further surgery and chemotherapy."

Heather tensed, her nails digging into the sides of the plastic chair she sat on with a faint squeak. The oncologist gave her a bland, emotionless expression, and the coldness of it made Heather want to slap him. She could potentially die, and yet he was not acting remotely sympathetic. Maybe, a small part of her mind considered, it was easier for him this way. Maybe he had to distance himself from every patient he attended to as, with the knowledge that they could potentially die, he didn't want to get remotely close to any of them.

"No."

The word burst through Heather's lips unintentionally. The oncologist raised a thick grey eyebrow at her, while Heather folded her arms defiantly, a slight spark of life returning to her.

"What if I refuse the chemo?" she asked, and while her voice was even there was an almost hystical undertone to it. "What if I decide not to do any of those harsh treatments?"

Her words did not spark a reaction from him the way she'd hoped they would. Heather had been trying to irritate him, hoping that she'd infuriate him in some way, but he just blinked at her, weathered face still unemotional.

"How old are you, Miss..." he stole a glance at her file again for her name. "Heather Wilson? Nineteen?"

Heather nodded stiffly, still staring darkly at him. When he replied, his words were painfully blunt.

"If the surgery is unsuccessful and cancer has begun to spread and you do not accept chemotherapy, then it's likely you won't make it to Twenty."

I have a lot of stuff planned for this fic. And I really want to get through these first chapters to get to the more eventful stuff :P

The plot will develop more when Alejandro and Heather end up seeing each other again and stuff. I REALLY need to update fics more, it's been months since I've even glanced at this one :P