Alex's footsteps echoed loudly through the deserted hallways of the hospital as he ran toward the exit, desperate to escape the huge building that seemed suddenly too small, and the walls that were slowly closing in, suffocating him. He kept his head down and his gaze trained on the floor to avoid accidental eye contact with any of the shocked night staff that he flew past, reluctant for them to catch a glimpse of his red face and bloodshot eyes, or the raw emotion that he couldn't wipe from his expression no matter how hard he tried, and connect him to the one-sided shouting that he was sure they must have heard.

His mind raced in time with his feet, his thoughts incoherent and tangled in their rapidity, spiraling through memories of the past, reminding him of all the other times this place had brought pain into his life, into Mer's life. Cristina had been right, he thought bitterly, all those years ago, when she called it Seattle Grace Mercy Death. She had been joking when she said it, but they had all seen her statement for what it was: just a feeble attempt to mask harsh reality with dark humor. And she was right, then and still. They re-named the hospital, trying for a tribute, a fresh start; but even its new name was steeped in tragedy, a memoir for Lexie and Mark, victims themselves of the curse that plagued this building. Because this place was cursed; with every year that passed by, Alex grew more convinced of that. He may have to refer to it as Grey Sloan Memorial for patients, but it would always be Seattle Grace Mercy Death to him. He had been so close to getting away from it all, so close to accepting the position at Hopkins...but he never made it farther than the airport. In the end, the only reason he stayed was Mer.

Mer.

Her name lingered even after the thought that had brought it flitted away. It echoed through his mind, bringing with it unwelcome images of her face the day before, slack jawed and drooling in unconsciousness, hypoxic lips trembling with each increasingly shallow breath, and emitting that telltale, rumbling snore- so loud it had carried out into the hallway- announcing that she was an OD patient even before he'd fully stepped across the threshold of her room. Alex's skin crawled at just the memory and he forced his legs to move faster, gasping in relief when he burst through the doors of the exit and gulped deep, cleansing lungfuls of the damp night air. He slumped against the wall behind him, feeling the rough stucco dig into his back through the thin material of his shirt, but not caring. His rapid pants gradually slowed as he caught his breath, but his mind did not, it kept galloping on. He should go back in, he thought, as sudden guilt clenched his stomach in an iron fist. But, all of his frantic energy spent, he suddenly couldn't force his feet to move anymore. And he found he didn't want to. He couldn't do it; he couldn't bring himself to face Mer right then, not when every time he looked at her his imagination wrote the ending of the worst case scenario that they had only narrowly avoided, floating murky nightmares behind his eyes of Meredith's still, cold body in an open coffin, and himself tightly gripping her children's hands again, just as he had done at Derek's gravesite. He had held their hands before as they watched one parent buried too young, and he could never do it again. Alex heaved a shuddering sigh, dragging one hand roughly down his greasy face and scratchy beard as if he could wipe the thoughts away too. It made him feel weak and cowardly and ashamed to admit it to himself, but he couldn't go in there and be strong for Meredith. He couldn't help her while what she had nearly done had left him unraveled and fraying at the edges. She had begged him not leave her, she had called them the last two standing; and then she had left him, just like everyone else in his life. San Diego was the first time and this suicide attempt that he could hardly even bring himself to think of in that way made it twice now. Alex knew it wasn't about him, he knew he shouldn't make it personal, but he couldn't help it. Because it was personal; she was his person. Against his better judgement he had given in to her persistent kindness, letting her gradually break down his walls and force her way in until one day he had woken up and realized that she had become his safe space and wherever she was felt like home. And she had said he was her person too. But she had tried to end it, and now he couldn't even look at her; when he did, the pain took his breath away. She hadn't even considered that she would be leaving him behind- again. Alex was used to being abandoned, he had a track record, and it used to tear him up whenever he thought of it. But Mer had healed that, she had joked about her own crappy family and inheriting Alzheimer's, eyes warm and accepting and understanding when she glanced over at him from her spot on the couch. And what he was feeling now was a whole new kind of pain; it split him open, incapacitated him, and no matter how many six packs of cheap beer he had tried to drown it in earlier, it persisted, only getting louder the longer he tried to ignore it. Mer was more to him than everyone in his past, more than Izzie and Yang and his parents and Rebecca put together. So no, he couldn't sit there and hold her hand and say he understood, because he didn't understand. He would never understand, because there was nothing on this earth that could tear him away from her or those kids.

The doors on his right parted suddenly, extricating him from his thoughts, as a small cluster of residents walked outside on their lunch break. Alex sighed heavily as they invaded his solitude with their open stares and curious whispers, knowing that his meltdown would be all over the hospital tomorrow. He had no desire to stay here and serve as a sideshow for their amusement, so with a grunt of effort he pushed himself wearily off of the wall and forced his legs back into a jog- this time toward the parking lot- eager to distance himself from the memories, from this place, and from Meredith. He'd come back eventually, he knew; because she was the sun, and he was caught in her orbit. He knew this, but tonight, he ran anyway. Just like Mer, just like he always did; trying to escape the pain and abandonment that had followed him all his life.

Alex drove aimlessly around the city for hours before winding up at the same place he always landed after a hard day- at the bar at Joe's getting drunk. It was nearly 4 am and the bar was closing before Alex dragged himself away from his pitchers of beer and his 4th shot of tequila- Don Jose, in her honor. His phone had been vibrating in his pocket every few minutes since he had left the hospital, and it vibrated again in his hand when he stumbled out into the parking lot and pulled it out to call an uber, but he ignored the call when he saw Jo's smiling face fill the screen. He didn't know what he would tell her if he answered. It was her day off, but he had no doubt that she had already heard about the scene he had made in Mer's room. Word travelled fast at Mercy Death, he thought bitterly, and Jo was smart. She would put his breakdown together with his whispered confession from a few days earlier and realize that Meredith's overdose wasn't an accident. She would want to help, but Alex wasn't ready. He couldn't have a conversation about his feelings or next steps, not when he couldn't even think of Mer's name without numbing his brain with as much alcohol as he could hold and still feeling like vomiting all of that alcohol back up again.

When they arrived at the loft, he drunkenly tipped his driver what through his double vision could have been 5 dollars or 50, then stumbled noisily up the narrow staircase, tripping several times in the dark. When he pulled the sliding front door open, he found Jo's sillouhette hunched over an empty wine glass at their dining table, clearly waiting up for him. The sight was touching, and even through the lingering haze of tequila clouding his mind, Alex felt a pang of guilt for making her worry. Jo whirled around when the door slammed behind him harder than intended, startled by the sudden bang that it sent reverberating through the thin walls of their dilapidated apartment. She looked shocked by his arrival at first, but as he watched, expressions flickered across her face like rapidly changing channels on a tv, flittting from relief to worry before settling on anger. Her eyes darkened with both frustration and concern as she took in Alex's bloodshot eyes and the slight unsteadiness in his bearing that made the room seem to sway unless he slouched against the doorway.

"What the hell, Alex?" she snapped, her voice clipped and exasperated, as she stood up from her chair so quickly that it clattered onto the floor. The sound seemed jarring in the early morning hush and Alex winced as it assaulted his head, already beginning to feel the aching start of a nasty hangover.

"Are you drunk?" Jo continued. "I've been calling you for hours, what-" She started to question him, probably intending to ask what he'd been thinking, or what had happened to make him show up this way- sweaty and drunk and smelling like hospital and vomit. But he didn't let her finish. The sight of Jo, flushed with anger, barefaced and casual in silk pajama pants slung low across her hips and one of his old t-shirts stirred something deep within his stomach, and he suddenly wanted her, needed her. Alex crossed the floor in two stumbling strides. His lips crashed against hers suddenly, nipping and kissing with an intensity driven by a need for closeness, and a desperation not to be alone. She gasped in surprise, and he drove his tongue deeper when he felt her mouth part under his own, letting it dance with hers the way he knew made her knees weak. He caught her weight in one strong arm, staggering away from the table to press her up against the fridge, steadying them both before moving his lips down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Alex," Jo protested, her voice sounding breathy and surprised. Alex felt her put one hand on his chest, halfheartedly trying to push them apart enough to see his face. But he resisted, snaking one arm around the bare skin of her torso, and squeezing gently. He hated how clutching and insecure he was sure his embrace felt to her, but he needed the reassurance of her soft warmth too much to stop. He only groaned in response, lifting one hand up to tangle his fingers in her hair, until her hand stopped pushing and her eyes dipped closed again. It wasn't until his lips completed their journey down her neck and returned to capture hers again that he realized he was crying- salty tears dripped off the bridge of his nose, running down onto his lips and showering Jo's face. He tasted the saltiness in their kiss, and he knew Jo had too when she abruptly pulled away from his embrace. Shock and concern finally overpowered desire enough to make her lock her elbows to hold space firmly between them when he tried to continue his caresses.

"Alex." She repeated his name more loudly this time, insistent and questioning. Her hazel eyes were wide and soft with sympathy as she studied his face, noting for the first time his bloodshot eyes and the pain lingering behind the desire that darkened his gaze. Her hand came up to rest against his scruffy cheek and he leaned into her touch, sighing deeply as her fingers gently brushed away some of the moisture there.

"What's wrong?" She asked him, pleadingly. "What happened today?"

Alex swallowed hard past the painful tightness that suddenly constricted his throat, only able to shake his head wordlessly in response. The better part of him wanted to tell Jo everything- she had been nothing but supportive and he knew she deserved an explanation for his erratic behavior. But Alex didn't know how to take all of his abstract, tangled thoughts and organize them into coherent words. He had never talked about his feelings with anyone except Mer, and with her it came easy, as natural as breathing. She would know what he was feeling instinctively, without even needing to ask. The thought brought with it an irrational surge of annoyance at how much harder communicating seemed to be with Jo, and pushed him back into what was easy: the physical part of their relationship that had always felt right and comfortable. Alex wrapped his arms around Jo again to pull her back in for another kiss, but she didn't accept the terse shake of his head or allow him to silence her with his lips. He had known she wouldn't. She pressed him, resisting the circle of his arms that surrounded her, grabbing his face in both hands this time and forcing him to meet her eyes.

"Alex, please."

He held her gaze for a moment, watching the hurt that his reticence was causing begin to bloom there, mingled with confusion and concern, and he felt the guilty chasm in the pit of his stomach widen. He hated to hurt her, but he couldn't talk about it right now, he wasn't strong enough, he wasn't ready. Alex knew that if he allowed the swell of dark thoughts and crashing emotions to break through his carefully constructed dam of alcohol and avoidance, they would come flooding in to sweep him away. They would drown him, and he couldn't afford that luxury. Later- he would break down. But right now, it was nearly 6 in the morning, and he had just a few short hours to sleep off the hangover pounding behind his eyes like a jackhammer before it was time to pick up the kids from school and daycare. In just a few short hours they would need him to be present and positive and functioning; and if he fell apart now, it would take more than just a few short hours to put himself back together. So, he dropped his arms from Jo's shoulders as if the soft, smooth skin under his palms burned him instead of soothing him and pulled gruffly away.

"I don't want to talk about it, Jo." He heard himself growl. His voice came out sounding rougher than necessary, intentionally gruff to push her away. He regretted it immediately, hoping she knew that his sudden anger wasn't directed at her. But as he turned his back to her and stumbled wearily over to their unmade bed, he could hear how the stinging hurt his words had caused made her voice sound small and uncertain when she said his name one last time.

"Alex!" It was an accusation and a demand all in one word; but he was too tired, too fragile. He didn't need therapy right now; he didn't need her to analyze him and talk it out. He was splintering, tiny hairline cracks were spreading, weakening his sanity, and all he wanted was the warmth of her arms to hold him together, to be his tape and glue. He sighed as he collapsed heavily on the mattress, pulling the thick duvet over his head to signal the end of the conversation and to block out the disappointment written all over Jo's face. He did his best to ignore the palpable cloud of pain and exhaustion that hung heavy between them, like the sky before a storm.

"I can't, Jo." He murmured, allowing a tiny fraction of the vulnerability and ache he was holding back to trickle through one of his cracks, letting it seep into his words and turn them in a plea. "Please."

He wasn't sure whether he was begging her for forgiveness or understanding, for comfort or to be left alone; and he was sure she didn't understand the meaning behind his anguished whisper either. But she respected his wish for silence, and after an agonizing moment of uncertainty, Alex felt the mattress dip beside him as she climbed into bed next to him, draping one arm hesitantly over his waist and exhaling slowly, sending her breath puffing hot and sour against his neck. He knew he had scared her with all his pain and fire, but he also knew she loved him, and he loved her too. So he let her hug him, ignoring the whisper of doubt that crept in when her embrace didn't numb his pain like he had hope it would- like Mer's always did- and simply let exhaustion tug his eyelids closed, glad not to be alone.