"Damn it." Alex swore as he felt a sharp pain in his side, where the stitches are.

"Are you okay?" A young nurse asked. He didn't reply. "Dr. Karev?" She tried again.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." He said once he got his breathing and the pain under control. "Page me, if he spikes a fever again." He told the nurse as he handed her the chart and left the room. Feeling his left side with his right hand, he could feel the blood slowly trickling down, the feeling slightly tickled him. He probably tore some stitches. He would deal with the damage later, he decided.

He felt like crap. The pain evolved from a manageable throb to a sharp intense pain every time he even lifts his arm, once the local anesthesia wore off. Maybe he should just tell Bailey he's not feeling well, because frankly right now all he can think about is being in his room with the blinds shut and going to sleep. He's never really responded well to anesthesia. The drug made him nauseous, and tired and weak. He knew he shouldn't have gone back to the hospital after his tests. Hell, he even gave patients the same advice for their post biopsy instructions. Told them to have someone there to drive them home; to skip work for one day or two and to generally take things easy for the next couple of days.

He decided against telling Bailey for now. Because telling her he is not feeling well and is going home, will mean he would have to tell her the rest, like the reason he's not feeling well. And he can't deal with it right now. He won't tell her for now; Not until he has to; he thought to himself and prayed that his decision will not cost a patient's life, because the last time a patient died because of him had hurt like hell, not that he would ever admit it to anyone.

He walked into an empty closet room, where he was sure that no one will find him, and lowered himself into a sitting position on the floor. If standing up is too much of an effort right now, at least he'll be able to catch up on some paper work, he's been neglecting for the past couple of days. He tried to concentrate on the chart in front of him, a mother of 4 who had a tumor in her breast removed and was recently diagnosed with breast cancer, but that word "cancer" kept popping up in front of him every time he tried to review the chart.

He kept playing the conversation he had had earlier that day with Dr. Roberts. "We should probably get the result with in a couple of days. Try to relax and not think about it too much. We'll be in touch." Not to think about it too much, yeah right, he thought sarcastically. He's a surgeon, he knows what it all means, that doctor can't smooth talk him into thinking this is not a big deal. He had seen the CT results, for Christ sake. He was a doctor himself, how on earth had he allowed things to get this far, he should have caught it earlier…

Last week, while taking a shower, he felt a lump, under his right arm pit. He felt it for a few seconds, before the doctor part of him took over. He felt his left arm pit, and also felt a lump, another one in his neck and in his groin. At that point he started to panic- all of his lymph nodes are swollen, which is a very very bad sign. He made a doctor's appointment at County, not wanting anyone at Seattle Grace to find out. The CT confirmed his suspicions and earlier today he had a biopsy. He should have just gone home, can't really concentrate anyways.

He reviewed the chart once more. He remembered telling the patient the bad news. Her husband had been with her the whole time; they had left the kids with the grandmother, he now remembered. The husband was so supportive, kept telling her that everything will be okay, that he's there, that he'll always be there…. He closed the chart in front of him and took several deep breaths. The closet room seemed too crowded all of a sudden. He couldn't breathe. He knew that there will be no one there to hold his hand and to tell him soft soothing words, lies even, just to make him feel better. His entire life, he was never told that everything is going to be alright. Optimism is a luxury, his mom always said. His breathing became faster and faster, getting shallower with each breath he drew. He knew he was hyperventilating and should get it under control, before he passed out; the edged of his vision were already starting to grey. He drew in a shaky breath, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. He repeated it for several more times, until he was breathing slower and he could feel his heart rate return to normal. Sighing deeply he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. He was so screwed.

--

"Hey, Alex, are you okay?" Meredith sounded a little bit worried. They were alone in the resident's lounge. He was lying on the couch, trying to get a few minutes of sleep, while Meredith was getting something, he couldn't make out, out of her locker.

"Hah?" He asked, confused.

"Your bleeding" Meredith repeated as she pointed her finger at the general direction of his upper body. He completely forgot about it but now that she had mentioned it he could feel a slight throb were he tore open the stitches when they were moving a patient to a hospital bed earlier, the blood was already dry, he could tell.

"Oh" He said, raising his right hand to examine the damage. When he felt a familiar, warm, sticky sensation he excused himself and went to the men's restroom, where Meredith won't be able to follow him. Once he was sure there is no one else at the men's restroom he carefully half removed his scrub shirt, only removing one sleeve so that the shirt now hung loosely over his left shoulder, revealing his black wife-beater. He moved closely to the mirror to get a better look, and swore quietly when he saw that 3 out of 4 stitches had been torn open.

He stepped outside, the shirt still only half covered him and moved towards Meredith.

"Can you give me a hand?" He asked, indication to his reopen wound. Meredith nodded. "Come on, let's get you in an exam room so I can redo your stitches." Alex painfully put his shirt back on and followed Meredith out the resident's lounge and into an empty exam room and locked the door, so that no one will accidentally walk in on them.

"Let me take a closer look." Meredith said. He complied sitting on the exam table and removing his shirt, wincing a little when he moved his left arm. He leaned back and put his left arm over his head, so that she could have a better access to stitch him up. "Well, I have to redo 3 stitches." Meredith announced as she put on a pair of gloves and prepared the local anesthesia.

"Are you allergic to anything?" She asked while holding the syringe.

"Kiwi" He blurted without even thinking before he could stop himself.

"I'm not going to even ask…" Meredith smirked as she injected the anesthesia.

After several seconds the drug numbed the area and Meredith began stitching his wound. Alex avoided all eye contact deliberately, not wanting to explain, but eventually gave up- she wasn't dumb, she was a doctor, a surgeon, she had probably noticed by now.

"Do you feel it?" He asked.

"Yeah" She answered and instinctively moved to feel for his lymph nodes under his right armpit and in his neck.

"It's in both sides…" He stopped her before she could further examine him. "In the neck and groin too…" He added before she even asked. Meredith only resumed the stitching.

"Do you have the results back? Of the biopsy… I mean?" She asked not looking up from her job.

"Not until a couple more days." He tried to keep his voice steady. "You can't tell anyone, Meredith. Not Christina, not Shepard, no one. I mean it." He sounded desperate, but he didn't even care at the moment. He finally made eye contact with her.

"Alex…. You can't possibly think you can hide something like canc… like this. You'd have to tell at least Bailey, or the Chief, you'd have to…"

"There is nothing to tell, yet." He cut her mid-sentence, before she could use the words "you" and "cancer" in the same sentence again. He looked at her again as she wrapped up his new stitches. "Pleas, Meredith, you can't tell anyone, promise." He almost pleaded with her. If he told the Chief or Dr. Bailey, they'll probably kick him off the program the minute he won't be physically able to stand through an 8 hour surgery, like he had explained Norman, his former intern a while ago; or worse- they might pity him, and there is nothing he resents more than people feeling sorry for him. "Meredith…" He tries again.

"Fine, I promise." She said as she removed the gloves and threw them into a biohazard bin. She tried to help him sit up, but he waved her off, refusing her help; put his shirt back on and unlocked the door. He was half way out the room when Meredith called out his name. He turned around to see her still sitting on the chair by the exam table.

"Are you okay?" She asked softly. The question caught him completely off guard. Was he okay? He felt fine. He wasn't in any pain or anything. But then again he knew he was not fine, far from it, even if the test results aren't back yet to make it official. He considered lying to her, to tell her he was fine. But there was something in the way she sat there; something in the way she looked at him; something in the way she asked him if he was fine, that made it hard for him to lye to her. She worries about him; she actually cares, he realized.

"Can I get back to you on that one?" He finally replied as he left the room.

--

Two days later he knew for sure. He came back home late. A surgery had lasted longer than first expected. He was too afraid to look at the results at the hospital, so he waited until he got home. He knew he was sick even before he had opened up the envelope- his doctor had told him over the phone, but he didn't know how bad things were until he looked at the biopsy results. He tried to examine it from a doctor's point of view. The cancer doesn't seem to be too progressed. He would probably need only radiation treatment. God, even the thought about it made him sick.

He got up and grabbed a bottle of vodka, Meredith had stored in the fridge. He had managed to go through almost half the bottle before he hears someone approaching him.

"Oh, Alex…." Meredith exhaled, and Alex could clearly hear how exhausted she is.

"Here…" He slurred slightly and tossed the test results on the table, not so gracefully, as he was clearly drunk, and they went past the table and scattered all over the kitchen floor, knocking the half empty bottle in the process. He got up to pick up the mess he had made and stumbled forward. As the world tilted dangerously around him he was hit by a sudden wave of nausea; not able to stop himself he vomited all over the floor.

"M' sorry…." He tried to apologize to Meredith, as he stretched up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. As he looked up he saw that she was holding the results of the biopsy, and was staring right back at him with a look he didn't recognize- was it pity? Sorrow? He couldn't really tell.

"It's okay…" She said as she put the file on the table. "Let's get you upstairs. I'll clean everything up." They both stumbled up the stairs and into Alex's room, Alex barely able to take on any of his weight in his state. Meredith helped him get his shirt and pants off and get into bed. She was just about to leave when she noticed he was awake, and didn't seem as drunk as he seemed to be only minutes before.

"You have to promise me not to tell anyone." He asked her again before passing out. Meredith simply turned off the lights and went back to the kitchen to clean it up before Izzie gets back home.

--

He woke up with a killer headache. He struggled into a sitting position when he remembered the events of last night- the test results, the conversation with his doctor, the vodka…. The room was spinning faster and faster making him nauseated. He suddenly felt the all too familiar feeling of bile in the back of his throat and lurched himself quickly into his bathroom, making it just in time and violently retched into the toilet, gripping the bowl for dear life. What a great way to start the day. Better get used to it, he thought sadly. When he was finally finished he got up slowly making sure that the room was not spinning; he only slightly swayed on his feet as he rinsed his mouth in the sink and brushed his teeth.

He has to be at County in 40 minutes for his first radiation treatment and he has surgery at 9:00, which means he has to leave the house within the next 5 minutes if he doesn't want to be late. He quickly stepped into the shower, not even bothering to see if there is enough hot water. He let the cold water wash over him, sobering him up within seconds. He tried to remember the exact moment that it happened. The moment when he decided he was going to fight for his life; that his life was worth fighting for. If he had found out he was sick 10 years ago he would have probably ended with his brain splattered all over the bathroom walls, like his mom…. He couldn't finish the thought. But now, now he was sick and he was going to do the course of radiation treatment and he was going to be alright, he has to…

He turned the water off and quickly dried himself with an old towel. The persistent headache wouldn't stop, so he grabbed a couple tablets of Tylenol, swallowing them with a sip of water from the tap. He then quickly dressed and went down stairs, praying he wouldn't run into Meredith, still embarrassed of her after throwing up all over her kitchen floor. He almost made it to the front door when he heard her call out his name from up the stairs. He quietly swore and turned around to face her. She was still in her pajamas, her hair all messy, and she seemed to only wake up moments ago.

"Where are…. Ah… you're leaving? How are you…. Ah… feeling?" she stuttered as she went down the stairs, and Alex couldn't help but think if this is how it was going to be between them from now on- only weird and awkward conversations.

"I'm sorry… about last night." He finally apologized.

"It's okay… not the first time that someone vomited all over my floor." She tried to lighten up the mood. "Where are you going this early? You don't have to be at the hospital for another 2 hours?"

"I… ah… I have radiation this morning…." He said in low voice, barely a whisper, suddenly afraid that someone else might find out.

"Oh…" She said, suddenly wide awake. "Do you want me to drive you there? I can be ready in two minutes…" She offered.

"No. I'll manage." He declined, though he was moved by her offer. No one has ever taken him to the doctor's before, not even when he was a kid; no one has even offered. "Meredith…" He began when she cut in.

"I know. Don't tell anyone. It's the third time you remind me. I still think that you should talk to the Chief and Bailey, though…" he looked at her, silently begging her with his eyes. "But I'm not going to tell them." She assured him.

"Thanks." He said as he opened the door letting the cold winter wind calm his nerves down. He almost made it to the car when Meredith caught up with him. "Alex, are you sure you don't want me to take you there? Or at least pick you up afterwards? Or at least do something… I feel that I have to do something…" she mumbled, not looking at him in the eye.

Alex could tell that she was cold, her lips were getting blue and he could see a small white moist coming out of her mouth every time she breathed out. "Meredith, it's okay. You don't have to do anything, seriously. I can manage." He said softly. "Get inside, it's freezing." He added, and got in his car.

A/N: not my best work, I have to admit. So please bear with me. And also review to let me know if you want me to continue with this fic.