A/N: Sorry for the slow update (and also sorry for any medical errors in this chapter). Hope you enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to review!
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Alex took a step towards my bed. "I wanted to talk to you, actually."
Oh, God. "All right," was the only reply I could manage.
The moment he took a few steps closer to me, I realized I probably should have feigned sleep or claimed I was in dire pain. I didn't want to talk to him; I couldn't talk to him. It was bad enough I'd had to remember what he'd said to me the last time I had seen him, but now I had to speak with him again.
Alex was standing to the right of my bed now, close enough that I could reach out to touch him if I had any sort of energy whatsoever. As it were, I was stuck propped up against the pillow, unmoving. My arms felts like lead pipes, and my stomach was sore from the surgery. I was still struggling to come to grips with how strange it felt to be a patient in the hospital I used to work at. I wondered fleetingly who I had treated in this room and then thanked whoever was listening that I wasn't in Denny's room. That would have been too much to handle.
I swallowed once and then glanced at Alex. He looked the same, I noticed. Not that I had expected any wild changes in the year we'd been apart, but I guess some bit of me thought it had been centuries since we'd seen each other last. Well, actually, if I looked closely, he looked more tired than I remembered him being. There were dark smudges under his eyes and it seemed as though he hadn't slept in a few days.
He brought his eyes up to meet mine, but said nothing. In place of any sort of conversation, there was a horribly awkward silence. It hovered between us ominously before I finally worked up the nerve to say something. "What did you want to talk about?" I asked, my voice quiet.
Alex shuffled from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable. "I – I – are you feeling any better?"
"Oh, yeah," I muttered, "I feel great. Nothing like a car wreck and a splenectomy to make your day." And from the feel of it, I had two broken ribs and a broken wrist to boot.
"Right, stupid question." With a slightly abashed look, he sat down in the chair that was near my bed.
He did it with a sense of familiarity that made me wonder if he'd been in the room while I was unconscious. I didn't ask, though, and instead the silence fell again. I broke it as quickly as I could, as it was nearly unbearable to sit quietly with him. "So," I began, "how's Seattle Grace been? Anything happen while I was away?" I wondered if he'd catch what I really wanted to ask: Have you dated anyone while I was at Mercy West? Do you miss me? Did you even notice I left?
Alex laughed sardonically. "Yeah, plenty has happened."
"Want to fill me in?" I actually didn't care who had screwed what intern, who had killed what patient, or who was currently the closest to snapping – but other than kicking him out of the room (which I desperately wanted to do), talking about mundane things with Alex was about all I could do. I refused to kick him out because I was attempting to appear as if his presence didn't bother me. This, to be honest, was about the biggest lie humanly possible.
"There's a lot of ground to cover," he said. "You sure you want to hear it all?"
"Do I look like I'm going anywhere?" I attempted a small smile, but I'm pretty sure it looked closer to a grimace. Seriously, did he really think it was a good idea to come talk to me after some severe trauma? I could barely think straight when he wasn't in the room.
"All right, then, but just remember you asked for it." He grinned wickedly for a moment, reminding me of what it had been like with him before everything had happened. "Let's see," he continued, "Hunt's still here. Shepherd and Mere are still together or whatever, O'Malley is still O'Malley." He paused for a moment, seeming to consider what to say next. After a few seconds had passed, he sighed and then began talking again. "Look, Izzie, I didn't come in here to talk about the latest gossip. If you really want to know what sort of crap has happened since you left, you can ask someone else."
"I know," I managed to choke out. I felt so helpless in the hospital bed, barely able to move, unable to walk away. I was vulnerable, defenseless. I was hating every minute of having him in the room. I glanced toward the doorway, hoping to God that Meredith or Cristina would come back in, but I had no such luck. Hell, at this point, I would have taken Bailey or Sloan.
Alex fidgeted again, looking a far cry away from the cocky bastard I was used to. "Iz, when I saw you in the ambulance bay, it was like... I don't know, I just stopped thinking about anything else but you. You were the only thing that mattered anymore – keeping you safe." He paused. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry, Izzie. I've–"
"No," I hissed, cutting him off, "you don't get to care about me. You don't get to worry and you don't get to say you're sorry like nothing happened." This was too much, too soon. Who was he to barge in here and say he was sorry after a year? Who was he to have anything to do with me anymore?
"Iz, I–"
"It doesn't work that way, okay, Alex?" I said. "Just because I almost died, it doesn't mean we get to have to this little reunion. I don't care about you anymore." The words burned my throat as I said them. I knew they were lies, but honestly, I didn't care. "You had your chance, Alex."
"I know I did," he said. "I've spent the past year wishing I hadn't screwed it up. Do you really think that girl from Peds meant more to me than you, Iz? I was scared, like you said."
I couldn't say anything for a minute or so. Here Alex was, saying everything I'd waited to hear for the past year, and it didn't matter. I couldn't tell him that I still loved him, couldn't tell him that I wanted to do nothing more than accept his apology. I couldn't do it because I didn't want my heart ripped out like that again; I wasn't sure I would survive it a second time. "Get out of my room." I said this as firmly and as coldly as I could, although my voice was starting to fray at the ends.
Standing up from the chair by my bed, he sighed, frustrated, and ran a hand through his hair. "God damn it, Izzie, will you just give me a chance to explain? I know I screwed up, okay? I know I did. But –"
"Get out of my room, Alex," I repeated. "Just leave."
After I said this, I suddenly realized I was breathing too quickly, my vision was going fuzzy, and what he was saying was becoming harder to hear. Warning bells were going off somewhere in my head. I knew I should be able to figure out what was going on, but all I could think of was wanting Alex gone. I didn't want to deal with the pain of seeing him again along with the pain currently coursing through my body.
Dizziness, confusion, weakness, nausea. Something was wrong. I tried to say something more to Alex, tried to tell him I needed help, but no words came out. Loss of speech.
Oh, God. Sometimes it took hours after head trauma for symptoms to present…
"Izzie?" Alex's voice rang from somewhere above me. He was checking my eyes, I thought distantly. "Izzie, can you hear me?"
I could, barely, but it wasn't like I could tell him that. Then, as everything began to spin faster and faster, I heard Alex yell, "I need some help in here!"
