"Alex?" Meredith tapped him gently on the shoulder.

"Hah?"

"We're here" She said quietly as she turned the ignition off and exited the car.

Alex embraced him self for the pain that were too come once he'd have to move. He felt as if his lower abdomen was on fire and the mere thought about getting up, walking to the house and then climbing the stairs up to his bed room made him nauseous. But he also didn't want to alarm Meredith that something was wrong so he took a few deep breaths, opened the door and then slowly and painfully stretched up, stifling a groan.

"You coming?" He heard Meredith yelling as she quickly ran the few steps towards the house and was already unlocking the door.

He then shuffled his way towards the house, grateful that Meredith wasn't watching. He decided to leave his coat on just in case he was bleeding again and to head straight to his room. He was just starting to climb up the stairs when Meredith emerged out of the kitchen.

"Hey, do you want to watch a movie or something?" She asked.

"No thanks" he answered flatly. "I think I'm just going to go straight to bed." He said and turned his back on her, only half hearing her mumbling something about it's being only 8 thirty or something. He really didn't care.

He stumbled to his bed room and shut the door behind him. He then exhaled slowly took his shirt off and set on his bed to examine the damage.

It wasn't as bad as he first thought. The stitches he performed on himself seemed to hold on, though the wounds themselves seemed a bit red and puffy. He gently pushed on the wounds to see if it caused any pain to check for an infection, but he found that he felt no pain at all. Not the pain indicating an infection and not the simple pain that usually came when you pressed on an open wound. He would have been alarmed but lately he found that his pain tolerance had increased, so he didn't think too much into this.

He spread some antibiotic cream on the wounds on his stomach and just to be on the safe side, he also spread it on the wounds on his inner thigh, though the wounds there weren't as red and puffy. He then redressed the wounds, tossed the old bandages in the bin and ducked under the covers. It really had been a very long day. Though, come to think about it, he really didn't do all that much, with his surgery been cancelled and all. But he still felt completely exhausted. So he just closed his eyes and tried to get some rest without thinking about how he fucked up his only chance at proving everyone that he was still a competent doctor. And the worst part of it was that he truly didn't have any idea why he was thrown off the case. But he tried not to think about it, or about the burning sensation in his stomach, or about the increasing nausea. He just tried to relax and breathe. He just tried to breath.

---

"He needed it!" Meredith tried not to raise her voice. "He needed this surgery, and you kicked him off the case!" the last sentence was shouted quietly.

"I know… I know his your friend… I…" Derek grabbed Meredith's arm as she tried to walk out of the kitchen and turned her around so she would have to face him. "I know his your friend…" He said more gently. "But there was something off about him and I … I didn't want him in my OR. I couldn't trust him in my OR." He sounded like he was apologizing at this point.

"You don't understand… after everything that's happened… after the whole Rebecca fiasco… I really think that he needed it. That it was more than just an interesting procedure. He needed it."

"I know. You said it already. But he wasn't right. I saw him last night and he looked high…" Derek finally admitted.

"He wouldn't…" Meredith found it hard to believe that Alex of all people would do drugs.

"Maybe it wasn't drugs. But he was definitely not alright. And I couldn't risk my patient like this. It was a dangerous procedure as it is. I just couldn't risk it." you understand He said quietly to himself. "Meredith. I really think there is something wrong with Alex…"

"You're wrong" Meredith tried to explain. But at that point she was also starting to get worried. She wasn't blind. She knew that he had changed over the last few weeks, but she honestly thought that all he needed was to get back on his feet. To be a surgeon again. To heal people. If he's just be able to help others, he might be able to help himself.

---

Alex woke up sometime after midnight and the first thought that came to his mind was a complete surprise that he had managed to get any sleep at all. The second thought was the searing hot white pain that ripped his stomach every time he moved or breathed. The third thought was that it was too damn hot in his room. The fourth thought was that he was definitely going to throw up.

He stumbled out of bed and nearly threw up on the floor when the pain momentarily blinded him when he'd tried to stretch up. So he just stumbled to his bathroom doubled over, quietly thanking whatever God there was that nobody seemed to get up.

He made it to the bathroom just in time and fell to his knees in front of the toilet retching violently. His stomach clenching and unclenching and clenching again painfully, making it hard for him to breathe.

He felt the stitches he preformed only hours before tear open. He broke into cold sweat but he just couldn't get him self under control. So he just stopped trying. He caved to the pain and let it take him over numbing all his senses until all he could feel was the excruciating pain.

He knew now for sure that the wounds were infected. He could feel the heat radiating off of them. He also felt a mild joint pain, the one that came along when ever his fever spiked over 103.

After a few moments the vomiting finally stopped. He wipes the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand and laid his head on his hands getting his breathing under control. Taking a deep breath and holding it in for a few seconds before exhaling. He repeated this for a few more times until he was sure he wasn't going to pass out and then stretched up. Forcing himself to stretch all the way despite his wounds. He then flushed the toilet splashed some cold water on his face, rinsed his mouth and finally opened the light to survey the damage to his stomach. He squinted at the bright light for a few seconds before his eyes adjusted and then looked in the mirror.

The sight of his own reflection shocked him. The stitches on his wounds were torn open. He knew that already, he could feel the blood trickling down his body for the past few minutes. What he didn't expect to see was his pathetic self staring back at him. He looked awful: red rimed eyes, shallow expression. He looked sick or high or maybe both. Maybe he is sick. Maybe there is something terribly wrong with him. Maybe he's so broken and cannot be fixed. Maybe he was just spreading poison around him, hurting everyone who dared get close to him.

And suddenly he felt so angry at him self. So self loathing. No wonder he was kicked off the case. He wouldn't trust him with a scalpel if he were Derek Shepherd. He looked like he was about to fall over. He hated himself so much at that point. He was finally given the chance that he wanted, but he screwed it up. He could blame Dr. Shepherd all he wanted, but the truth was that he had no one to blame but himself. He brought this upon himself. There was no one else to blame. No body else.

And then another realization set in. Not only is he not capable of helping people, he was actually destroying them. He was the one that fucked up Rebecca. Sure, he pulled her out of the water and saved her baby. But the truth was that he could not save her. Not really. He fixed her new face and had given her hope of a better future, just to have it all taken away. It was his fault that she went nuts. He picked her face, picked her personality to suit himself. It was all his fault. No wonder Rebecca didn't want to fight hard enough for him to stay alive… he's pathetic. A poor excuse for a doctor.

The rage was so sudden and consuming that he wasn't even thinking. His razor blade was in his hand in a matter of seconds, the feeling of it in his hand so familiar and comforting. Alex made the first cut without even thinking and then cut deeper and deeper into the already open wounds in his stomach. He cut over and over and over again. Ignoring the pain. Ignoring the feeling of the blood, now flowing freely down his legs. He was just so angry as he cut and hurt himself worse than ever before. He was screaming too, he realized. Screaming with the rhythm of every cut. He didn't even care if anyone could hear him. He just couldn't help himself. When they would ask him about it later he wouldn't even remember doing so. He wasn't even sure he was fully conscious then.

He cut even deeper, his fingers digging into his own flesh. But he still felt nothing but the pure anger and resentment towards himself. It didn't hurt. He felt no pain. But with a slight alarm he did notice that the edges of his vision began to blur.

And just a suddenly as the anger came it just left him. He was panting now, breaths coming in short and fast. Too fast. He dropped the blade at once and looked in the mirror again. The sight of himself bleeding surprised him some how.

What has he done?

He was covered in blood, his blood, and as the looked up the room tilted dangerously on its axis making him feel light headed. He kept staring at his reflection mesmerized for a few more seconds, almost hypnotized at the sight of his own blood. Suddenly he had to vomit again. Unable to move he just threw up in the sink, the nausea washing over him in waves. Every time he thought he was finally done he looked up and the sight of his own bloodied reflection set another wave of dry heaves. He had tried to drink some lukewarm tap water, but it all came back up only seconds later. He dry heaved into the sink for a few minutes before he forced himself to stop and regain control.

Alex knew that something was terribly wrong. That it wasn't his usual cutting. He couldn't get the bleeding to stop or to even slow down. He grabbed a towel and pressed it hard against his stomach. Scared when he didn't feel any pain. The towel was soaked in his blood within seconds. He washed it in the sink and applied pressure against the wounds again.

"Come on, come on, come on, come on" He talked to himself trying to convince the bleeding to stop on its own. But it didn't. He was bleeding quite heavily and he started to panic. At some point he had dropped the towel and as he tried to grab it off the floor he nearly passed out. The bathroom spinning around him making it hard for him tell which way was up and which way was down.

He put one hand on the sink as he finally grabbed the towel with his other hand and got up. He put the towel against his stomach again and suddenly noticed that the blood was coming out in short waves the rhythm of his pulse.

And then he knew he had to get help.

He stumbled out of his bathroom, not even caring about the exposed bloodied mess he had left behind. He tried to make it to Izzie's room which was the closest. He had tried to remember if she was home but he honestly did not know. He knew for sure that Meredith was home so he stumble towards her and Derek's room when his legs gave under him and his knees buckled. He leaned heavily against the wall. Feeling dizzy and light headed and really nauseous. He slid slowly to a sitting position slamming his eyes shut against the nausea that hit him. He could feel bile at the back of his throat and it took all of his will power not to throw up again all over the floor. He could feel the hall spinning around him. He tried calling out for Meredith or Derek but no words came out.

---

Derek woke up frightened at the sound of someone screaming. He straightened up in bed looking at a disoriented Meredith lying next to him.

"Did you hear that?" He asked Meredith but got no response. "What the hell was that?" He asked her but she didn't seem to hear. He pulled an old sweat shirt over himself and quietly left the room to check it out.

He wasn't expecting to see Alex in the hall. He was briefly reminded of the night before when he suddenly realized that something was very wrong. Alex looked scared, terrified even. "Alex, did you hear that?" He asked him, but Alex didn't seem to notice his presence.

He was about to ask him what was going on when the rest of the picture registered in his mind.

Alex was holding a towel to his stomach and was leaving a bloody trace behind. He also notices the bandage on his left thigh. Oh god, he thought to himself, Alex had been stabbed. He had been stabbed in his house, by some intruder, who could still be in the house, while Meredith was still asleep in the next room.

"Alex, what happened? Is he still in the house?" He whispered, but still got no response. He made a quick motion to grab Alex, who seemed unsteady on his feet when all of a sudden he just collapsed against the wall.

He kneeled by him tapping Alex's face gently. He could feel the heat radiating off of him and the slight tremors that rocked his body.

"Alex. Alex. I need you to focus." He said a bit louder and to his surprised Alex opened his eyes and looked at him, though his eyes were glassy fevered bright and didn't really focus on him.

"Is the guy that did that to you still in the house?" He asked again, trying not to sound as scared as he felt.

"No.. There was no one else. Nobody else…there's nob'dy else" Alex answered, slurring his words. And then it all made perfect sense to Derek.

"Oh my god… Meredith. Meredith! Meredith!!" He yelled as he tried to pull the towel away and asses the damage.

"What?" Came Meredith's sleepy response as she came out of their room. It took her a couple of seconds to realize what she was seeing.

"Oh my god. What happened?"

"Call 911" Derek instructed quickly before Meredith had even reached them. "Alex. Alex can you hear me?" He asked as he noticed that Alex closed his eyes again. On purpose or because he had lost consciousness, he did not know. Derek rubbed his knuckles against Alex's sternum. Alex didn't even flinch in pain, but he opened his eyes once again. But this time he seemed completely out of it, as if he wasn't even seeing Derek, who was right in front of him. In the distance Derek could hear Meredith giving the paramedics directions to get to the house.

"Alex, I need to have a look." Derek said as he tried to pull Alex's hands away from the towel, but Alex would not let him.

"Alex, you're bleeding, I need to see how bad it is." He tried again, but still got no response.

"Alex, it's okay." Meredith said as she kneeled by his other side. "We're only trying to help you. Let me look" She said again as she placed her hands on Alex's and removed the towel. "Jesus. What happened?? How did this happen?" She asked as she exchanged a look with Derek. It was perfectly clear that the wounds were self inflicted.

"Where are the paramedics?" Derek asked to no one in particular.

"Can't you just fix it here?" Alex finally spoke in a quiet whisper. Looking directly at Derek and he seemed lucid for the first time that night.

"Alex these wounds are very deep and some of them are infected. You need a hospital" Derek answered.

"Please, Meredith…" Alex spoke to her ignoring Derek's last comment. "They'll kick me off the program…." He added. His own admission confirming Meredith's and Derek's initial suspicion.

Meredith didn't know how to respond to that. It was probably true. But it wasn't important at the moment. All that mattered was to get Alex some help.

"Alex." Derek spoke again. "I'm going to press it against your stomach again to slow the bleeding. It might hurt." He said as he applied the pressure. Alex didn't even flinch. The lack of response to the pain from Alex worried him. The young intern was probably already in shock.

"He's burning up" Meredith stated the obvious as she laid a hand on Alex's back. "Alex stay with us." She said again as his eyes drifted shut again. "Alex. You need to stay awake." She tried again, but Alex was no longer conscious. She then turned towards Derek.

"How could we have missed this?"