Author's Note: I think I started this chapter and hit delete five times. Not to sure how I feel about how it turned out but I think it holds its own against what happened on the Premiere. I also know you will probably go WHY toward the end of this chapter. I promise I will make it up to you very, very soon!

Chapter Seven

Peace is not the absence of conflict but the ability to cope with it.

The stench of fear permeated the air as Alex tried to claw his way through the reoccurring nightmare that plagued him night after night. Images of Reed lying on the floor, blooding oozing from the hole in her head gave way to images of Izzie smiling at him, her hand held out with a pink frosted white cupcake sitting on her palm. All he had to do was reach out and take it. When he took it, when he held it in his hand, he realized it wasn't a cupcake but a gun and the girl lying on the floor wasn't Reed, she was Izzie.

"Izzie," he cried out, jerking awake. His heart raced as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling. Glancing to his left he found Izzie's side of the bed empty. Blood started to roar in his ears until he realized the shower was running in the bathroom. He sent up a silent thank you that she hadn't been next to him, hadn't witnessed the effects the dream had on him. The last thing he wanted was her realizing how deeply the shooting had effected him. He knew they would have to have the conversation at some point but at the moment he wanted to focus on getting things right between the two of them.

"Alex?" Izzie poked her head out from the narrow door that led to the tiny bathroom just off the bedroom. Her hair hung in wet ringlets around her face; a face twisted in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Answering a question with a question; a vague response if ever there was one. Alex knew it wouldn't satisfy Izzie but he was hoping she accepted it. He had hoped in vain, he realized when she stepped out of the bathroom, wearing only a plum colored towel.

"You yelled my name," reminded Izzie, sitting on the edge of the bed. He wished she would either go back in the bathroom or put something on. Having her that close, wearing next to nothing, was a distraction he didn't need. Wanted, yes, but didn't need. He shrugged, knowing she would push for more. "Alex," she said softly, "please don't shut me out."

Letting out a sigh, Alex scrubbed a hand down his face. "It was just a dream. No big deal."

One perfectly shaped eyebrow raised as Izzie reclined back on the bed. "No big deal, huh?"

What sort of man admitted to having nightmares where cupcakes became guns and dead colleagues became dead wives? How did he explain how scared he had been when it sunk in that he'd been shot and could very well die? How did he tell her he was still terrified? Real men didn't let their fear rule their lives, or dreams. "Do we have to talk about this," he begged in a low voice.

"I think you need to," Izzie soothed, sitting up again. Her towel slipped slightly, revealing the peak of one perfectly formed breast. It was almost like she was torturing him into getting help. "Alex, you almost died. That alone screws with a person. Trust me, I know." Her chin dropped to her collar bone and her long, slender fingers plucked at the hem of the towel. "You watched a co-worker bleed to death right in front of you."

He didn't bother correcting her on the fact that Reed had died the moment the bullet entered her skull. She didn't want or need those kind of details. Hell, he didn't want or need those details but he was stuck with them. "If you can't talk to me then we need to find you someone you can talk to," she went on. The fingers that had been plucking at the towel moments before reached out, brushing against his hand. He took hold, twining their fingers together and squeezed tightly. She squeezed back, easing some of the uncertainty he had been clinging to.

"I keep reliving it," he started, his tone rough and low.

"Alex, you don't have to-"

He cut her off with by shaking his head. He knew he didn't have to tell her and that was partially why he wanted to. In the past Izzie had pushed, pushed, and pushed until he felt like he had no choice but to share. It felt good knowing he didn't have to. It also made him want to. "I keep having the same dream. At first it's like a memory. Like I'm reliving what happened. Then somehow it changes and you're there." His voice started to shake. He thought he could tell her. Now he wasn't so sure. "It's fine at first. Like you're there to make things better but then everything changes again and it isn't Reed bleeding to death, it's…" he inhaled deeply, "it's you."

Izzie stared at him for a moment, her dark eyes blank. "I don't know anything about dreams Alex. I wish I did. I know people say dreams are our subconscious's way of helping us face our fears." She scooted around so that she faced him, one hand clutching the towel to her chest as it started to come undone. "I know how you feel about therapist but Alex I really think you should talk to one."

He shook his head. "No shrinks, Iz."

"They're probably going to want you to talk to one before you go back to work. Why not be one step ahead of them? Why not…" Alex shook his head again. Shrinks were nothing but back stabbing liars who said they wanted to help but really they just wanted to get enough information on you to hang you out to dry. He'd been down that road before and he wasn't going down it again. "Alex, you have to deal with what happened. I know you think you're big and bad, Mr. Tough Guy, but even tough guys need help from time to time. If I could help you through this I would. I can't though."

"Fine," Alex spat out, throwing back the covers. He should have known it was too good to be true. Izzie always bailed when things looked like they were going to get rough. Why would this time be any different? He looked around for his clothes and found them neatly folded on the trunk that served as a coffee table. He started toward them, blocking out Izzie calling his name until he felt her cool fingers digging into his bicep.

"What are you doing?" Izzie demanded, stepping in front of him.

"What does it look like?" he growled, trying to side-step around her. She wouldn't let him. If he moved to the right she moved to the right. If he moved to the left she moved to the left.

"It looks like you're trying to walk away," she answered. "Correct me if I'm wrong Alex, but didn't you tell me last night you weren't letting go?" Damn. She was throwing his words back at him. "Well what you're doing looks a lot like letting go. Luckily for you, I've grown up a lot since…well since the last time we…" Her cheeks pinked, and her chest heaved. "Look, I've grown up a lot since I walked out on you. I'm not that same woman. I've had time to think about what I want from life, how I want to live it, and who I want to live it with. You're it for me." Her throat worked up and down as she stared at him, her eyes pleading with him to say something, anything. He couldn't. The words seemed stuck in the emotional ball that was lodged in his throat.

"I love you," Izzie whispered, stepping closer. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she lay her forehead against his, their lips a breath apart. "I love you," she repeated before brushing her lips across his. Her mouth moved to the left, pressing butterfly like kisses along his jaw line. "I love you."

Love. Alex could count on one hand the women he had said those words to. His mother. His first grade teacher. And the woman before him. The first two had been expected. All little boys loved their mothers and had at least one teacher that left them feeling awestruck. Izzie had been unexpected. He hadn't wanted to love her and once he had he had tried talking himself out of it. He hadn't been able to; not even after she had left him. For him love and Izzie Stevens seemed to be connected. They were connected.

"I love you too," Alex murmured back, sliding his fingers into her thick, dark gold hair. Closing his eyes he caught her mouth in a kiss. No more playing games. He was too old for them and life was too short. His tongue slipped past her lips, teasing and caressing the recess of her mouth. She moaned softly, pressing her body against his. It was the only invitation he needed.

Reaching between them he loosened the towel, grinning when it crumpled to the floor. Her body was thinner, maybe a little too thin, but her breasts were just as full he remembered them, her legs just as long. His fingers itched to explore every inch of her, to reacquaint themselves with her flesh. To trace her tattoos with his tongue. She had a new one, on her hip, some four letter word in fancy script over a hot pink heart.. He would start there.

Gently pressing her onto the rolled arm of the sofa, Alex knelt before her, intent of discovering the secret of her newest tattoo. His breath caught in his throat as he made out the letters. Alex. "You left a permanent mark on my heart," she murmured, a lazy smile on her lips. "Was going to surprise you with it when I came back, but…" her voice trailed off.

But you slept with Lexie and told me to leave. The words unspoken but heard none the less. He rest his forehead against her naked thigh. Her fingers splayed across his scalp. "Past is past, Alex. We can't live there." She was right. He knew she was right. It still hurt. So much wasted time. So many mistakes that could have been prevented if they had just talked to each other. "Stop thinking about it. We both messed up, okay? We've learned from our mistakes."

"I'm sorry Iz."

Izzie blinked, her brows knitting together. "For what?"

Raising his head, Alex stared up at her. She looked genuinely confused. "For everything. For not noticing you were sick. For not being a better husband. For sleeping with Lexie. For telling you to leave when really I wanted you stay. I'm just…sorry."

"I'm sorry to. I should have told you…" her voice trailed off in a sigh, followed by a snorting laugh. "God, there are so many things I should have told you! I will tell you. One day soon, after we get through what you're going through, we'll sit down and talk about all the ugly things I should have told you before."

After they got through what he was going through. A reminder of his nightmares. A reminder of the hell Gary Clark had put him through. A reminder that he didn't have to go through it alone. "If you think I need to talk to someone, I'll talk to them" he whispered, a lump forming in his throat. He would do it for her. He would do it for them. He would do it for their future.