Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to total drama.

AN: There are so many fics set in the hospital after TDWT, but most of them centre around Alejandro healing, and I wanted to do a little twist to that. Sorry if this has already been done...

NOTE: Even though I know the Canadian ending is the real ending of TDWT, this fic has references to the alternate ending that aired in America and Australia. At the end of this, unlike the other ending, when they were swimming away a huge chunk of debris was flying towards Heather, before the camera cut to static, and then the stupid robot thing happened. So I'm assuming she could have been injured, and... Yeah.

Once again, I wanna apologise for any WEIRD word orders or corrections, but I typedthis on my IPad, which is an autocorrect Nazi.

The water was cool, but large areas were growing hotter as burning debris splashed into it with a sizzle. Chris was hurriedly saying goodbye, and with a twinge, Heather just thought she could hear an agonizing scream from the beach, but she firmly decided it was her imagination. As she splashed through the water, flight instinct pushing her through the surging waves, the subject of the money swirled through her mind. As Chrisclimbed onto his decadent boat, leaving the others to fend for themselves, she couldn't help laughing when Ezekiel torpedoed through the air, smashing into the host's yacht and sinking it. However, as Chris sputtered and resurfaced, a thought snapped into he head. Get him while he was down...

"Hey!" She yelled, across the heavy collage of splashing; the others had taken off again. "Am I getting my money or not?"

If she hadn't been so stubborn and greedy, she would have made it in time. However, before she could move, she felt a shadow pass swiftly over her head. Struggling to stay afloat, she looked up; a huge chunk of debris, ten times her size or more, was coming down swiftly, still ablaze from the molten rock. She screamed loudly, adrenaline pulsing, as she attempted to move away, but it was too fast for her; with a painful crunch it slammed into her, the impact shoving her under the water. Heather managed to sheild her head and neck from major damage, but it left the rest of her uncovered and bare: free for the rock to scorch it. She panted for breath, but water swirled into her lungs; her back was searing with the lava that had been on the debris, and she felt her limbs crack and splinter under the pain. She tried to move them, to swim to the surface as the rock rolled off her and sunk, but her back felt shredded and both her legs were unable to move...

Her head bobbed to the top and she screamed for Chris, for the othe contestants, for anyone to save her, her mouth filling with water. Her vision was clouding, head feeling as though it would split in two, and before she finally submerged, her excruciating pain weighing her down, she heard someone, voice twisted with agony that mirrored her own, screaming her name. She tried to yell back for help, but she was blinded, dizzy, and slowly sinking into the water...

BEEP.

Heather was groggy. Her head felt like hell, there was pain seeping in from every appendage, and something was making an irritating noise beside her.

BEEP.

She frowned, eyes still closed. What the hell was that stupid noise? It was pounding into her already-throbbing head. It struck a chord- it was a heart-monitor machine thing. So... Was she in the hospital? Her eyes felt glued down, but she forced them open. A blur of white waited for her, somethin dark obstructing hervision in the centre, but as they focused she saw the genuinely-anguished face of Chris McClainstarring at her. As she glared at him, however, his face split into a grin.

"Thank God- If you'd been out for one more day, I'd have been sued!"

Loathing boiled up in Heather at the narcissistic host, the memory of how she'd sustained her injuries returning swimming back into her mind, and she lunged for him- however, sharp pains in her chest and stomach made her gag, and she slumped back down on her pillows, scowling at him. He, along with the other contestants, would have left her to drown; had seemingly ignored her screams of pain. Though her memory was dim and severed- the pain had burned away most of her though at the time being- she did recall what had happened, and snarled at Chris.

"You have to give me my money now." She accused fiercely. Chris shook his head, extreme smugness radiating on his face.

"That's why contracts are so awesome!" He sniffed at her, and fury struck her like a thunderbolt. After all that agony, not to mention the less tangible things she'd given up for the money, she wasn't getting it.

"But," Chris added swiftly, seeing the vengeful look on her face. "We're paying for both your hospital bills..."

Heather should have been somewhat satisfied, but her mind pricked up on one word.

"Both?" She queried sharply. Something unexplicable flashed across his face, and for a brief moment his expression reminded her of a child, attempting to hide the forbidden deed he'd just committed, but his face smoothed out into the egotistic look sheuses used to. Though her head was still partially dizzy, slight worry pitted in her stomach at the mention of both-hard someone else suffered the same agony she had, or worse? She'd heard someone screaming... She brushed the thought out her head; she didn't have time to care for inconsequential others, she decided. Her heart monitor, which had accelerated slightly, slowed down the rythm it had been emitting before.

"How long have I been here?" She snipped angrily at Chris. He shrugged.

"Just a couple days. You should probably ask a nurse about details because..." He checked his large gold-plated watch. "I gotta sort some paperwork out... Right now."

With a hasty, forced grin, he stalked out. Heather watched the sadistic host leave, lip curling in hatred. It was his fault- he was the one who had forced a bunch of teenagers into inhumane circumstances again and again, and resulted on her propped up stiffly in a hospital bed. She felt lost- she didn't know where she was, whether or not her parents knew of her condition, or what was going on.

Her eyes swept the room, full of contempt. She hated hospitals, and this was like any room; cold, sterile and dull. She was taken aback by the sight of another bed beside hers, but she shoudln't have been surprised; of course Chris was too cheap to spring for a private room. The dull, faded green curtain was drawn around their bed, but she as she listened she heard faint ragged breathing, and whoever they were had a heart-monitor too- however, their heartbeat had a much less regular rhythm than hers- it faltered, and dipped in speed. Curiosity piqued in Heather, as she recalled what Chris had said... Both your hospital bills...

Was there another contestant who had fallen prey to Chris's inadequate precautions and the volcanic eruption... She was tempted to draw the curtain and see (they sounded as though they were asleep), but she was restricted; there was an oxygen tube taped very uncomfortably to her face, and an IV down the one arm that wasn't encased in solid plaster. Along with that, one of her legs was rock- solid and encased in heavy plaster, the other covered with blisters that chated painfully against the stiff sheets. She gave an involuntary groan of pain, before bending back into place. Her hair felt dirty and stringy, face ravaged with sweat and blood, and she cursed mentally at what she must have looked like.

An understated mirror caught her eye from across the room, and she gasped in shock; while her face remained relatively unscathed, that was less than what could be said for the rest of her. Her skin was a mottled collage of bruises, blisters and scabs. Chunks of her skin were covered with huge dressings, the amount that remained bare discoloured and peeling. She twisted as much as she could to see her back and, though the shapeless hospital nightgown covered most of her back, she could see enough in the grimy mirror to tell that her back had received the more severe damage; it stung with the ghost of the pain, large bandages and dressings stained with blood and pus dominating her skin. They were injuries that would hopefully heal over time, but they were painful, scarring, and she felt bile rise in her throat at the sight. She twisted her head as far as possible from the grimy mirror, wincing as every inch of her throbbed and burned, the extent of her injuries fueling her hatred for Chris even more.

The waves of pain, now that her major focus was on her injuries, seemed to lap even higher, and finally she couldn't stand it; her non-broken hand slammed down on the call button. She needed sedation; a few hours unconscious, to distract her from the pain of reality.

Her brief, drug-induced sleep ended the moment the last of the sedative left her system; her eyes flew open, and she winced as the memory of where she was and the pain shot back into her. Worse, however, was the stomach clenching guilt. She had been preoccupied with her injuries and suing Chris, earlier, but now an unwelcome sense of regret was settling in her. She recalled, all too sharply, the instance before she'd been hit by the boulder; what she'd done to get the million. It had seemed too easy, then, and she would have kicked herself for feeling a weak, petty emotion if her legs hadn't been strapped up. Guilt was beneath her- guilt was fickle, and something she'd left behind years ago when her harsh, unfeeling outer layer had formed.

But... Was it necessary to betray Alejandro?

Of course it was, she decided automatically. He'd had it coming to him- besides, he was most likely at home, chortling maliciously over what had happened to Heather- for all his "love", he hadn't even bothered to swim back for her. Now, he'd be laughing if he knew of her injuries...

With a streak of agony, it hit her. The way Chris had let slip that there were two people, then quickly changed the subject- the person in the next bed... She racked the last whole memory before the incident; they were running, all running- but they weren't all running; he was already at the bottom, sitting on the oversized ice cube Heather had shoved him onto in his one weak moment. They hadn't waited or warned him- they'd run past him, no, run OVER him... Heather's mind felt sore as the tsunami of realization crashed into her brain. A turmoil of emotions spiralled in her head- it couldn't be... No, it really couldn't...

Though she was taped and secured to several machines and still woozy from the sedatives, she had a minimal amount of legroom. She wanted to rip the stupid cords out her arms, but knowing that wasn't actually the best idea she untangled them carefully, slipping out the bed. The IV tugged dully on her arm, but there was enough room for her to stumble across the uncomfortable floor, one of her legs completely numb and weighing her down in heavy plaster, the other feeling weak and difficult to move- the tissue and ligaments had obviously been damaged in the impact- but although she wobbled, dragging the plastered leg behind her, she was stubborn. The still-drawn curtains seemed to shiver as she reached for them tentatively, before fiercely shoving them aside. When her eyes saw what was in the bed,whe had to suppress a scream.

It was hard to recognize him, but she knew instinctively that it was. All self-pity for her own injuries flew from her head, when she saw just how worse his were. Obviously, he'd been submerged in the spilled lava; some parts of his skin were charred down to below the flesh, blisters and craters covering it like a print. He appeared to have pressed his face into the ground, somewhat protecting it; the burns were marginally less severe on his face, though it was dotted with bruises. Foot after foot of bandage and gauzy dressing adorned his body; a stained strip of gauze was wrapped around his head, what remained of his hair poking through it. Unlike her, all four of his limbs were strapped up, mangled and jutting out abnormally. Guilt slammed into her, so hard she sucked in a deep and loud intake of breath. Though he still appeared unconscious, his eyelids twitched at the sound. When the putrid, disorientating shock had drained minimally from Heather's body, she slammed her fist against the call button again. A very tired-sounding nurse answered via intercom.

"Yes? More medication?"

"No." Heather snarled through gritted teeth. "Get -CENSORED- Chris McLean here, NOW."

Before the nurse could retort, she released the button, some of her horror subsiding, only to be replaced with gut-wrenching anger. This was a big deal- far more extensive than her own injuries- and though it was mostly her fault (she refused to accept it, but deep down knew that it was) Chris had tried to keep her in the dark about it. A small shred of reason told her that maybe he hadn't wanted to shock her- after all, she had just suffered a traumatic accident- but she knew better- this was Chris McLean, and he was either too busy preening himself to tell her, scared of her reaction or... He'd find it hilarious to torment her; to leave her in the same ward as him so that it was even more traumatic when she found him... Chris was sick. He was FOUL, and at that moment Heather wanted to rip his arrogant stubbly face apart; how COULD he...

It was two hours before the host appeared, looking tired and extremely irritated, sipping a huge takeaway coffee.

"What is it now, Heather..." He paused at the sight of Heather, standing by Alejandro's bed with a furious glare on her face; her eyes shot daggers at the sadistic man.

"Oh." He said bluntly. "Yeah. About that..."

"Would you care to explain to me WHY you didn't tell me?" She shrieked. Chris opened his mouth, but at her loud words Alejandro's heart rate picked up slightly, and she heard a strangled gasp emitt from his lips. Heart racing, she leapt to his side, the IVS plugged into her arms straining somewhat. However, the movement had died, and he had lapsed back into the catatonic state again.

"Look, Heather," Chris scratched the back of his head warily. "You really wanna know why I didn't tell you?"

"Yes," Heather snapped instantly. "Uh, of course!"

Chris eyed her, and for just a moment she saw the softest hint of pity grace his eyes, before they lapsed back into their usual sadism. "Look, we're having realtrouble with him. The hospital says that there's very little brain function going on, and it's really eating my money keeping him alive."

A strange sense of panic began to spread throughout Heather's body; her mouth popped open, but somehow there was no sound- her throat began to contract.

Finally, her lips were able to form words. "But- he moved... He moved just then, and earlier I saw his eyes move..."

Chris shrugged. "Whatever. Look, the gist of it is that if it doesn't pick up within 48 hours, they're gonna..." He drew his finger across his throat. "Y'know, pull the plug. And we weren't gonna tell you just yet because we knew how you'd react..."

There was a shivering moment of silence as the words began to sink in venomously, torturing Heather's brain. She felt herself double over, white-hot guilt searing into her, yet feeling oddly numb at the same time...

A scream pierced the air, and she was clawing at Chris, restrained only by the IVs and monitors that jabbed into her skin; her heart rate was accelerating enormously, she could hear it on the monitor, but she didn't care... Her hands were around Chris's neck, contracting fiercely, but with one pathetic shove he removed her; she was still physically weak.

"You know," He glowered at her angrily. "If you should be mad at someone, don't get mad at me. You're the one who did this to him, Heather. Now if you'll excuse me, I need my beauty sleep, Okay?"

He left Heather, left her alone in to stand in the hellish nightmare she'd created. Karma had caught up with her once and for all; she'd condemned Alejandro to death in her own way. He'd kissed her, given up the million dollars and his chance of besting her once and for all, because he loved her.

And now he was all but dead. Just because she'd let the million dollars get to her head.

More screams issued, and this time she couldn't tell if they were hers or not; every part of her seemed too inflame with guilt to feel anything else. She could barely breathe any more as the words Chris said repeated over and over in her head; "They're gonna... Y'know, pull the plug... You're the one who did this to him, Heather..."

The words spiraled in her head, tormenting her with tiny daggers of pain. She clamped her hands over her ears in a desperate attempt to stop the memory playing in her mind, but somehow she couldn't.

"You're the one who did this... You're the one who did this... YOU DID THIS..."

"I'm NOT!" She screamed madly at her subconscious, no longer caring if the words were audiblefor not. "I didn't do this! It's NOT MY FAULT!"

But no matter how much she told herself this, she knew it was otherwise. She'd really gone too far this time...

Heather drew the curtains of her bed the next morning, not letting anyone near her except the doctor and nurse as they changed her dressings and helped her across to the bathroom. She wished she could sink away and vanish as family and friends came to see Alejandro, some of them sobbing. She heard the doctor tell them halfheartedly that they still had 32 hours to see if he responded before they shut the machines off, but both the Burromuerto family and Heather could hear the clear lie in his voice; it seemed like there was no hope. After his family exited, mother sobbing softly (each sound was a dagger in Heather's heart) the total drama cast came to pay their last of them, despite knowing Heather was in the bed beside him, spoke to her. She didn't expect them to. There was no way they'd forgive her for this. It was partially their fault, she knew; they had, after all, decided to cheer when Alejandro was taken down, then run over his body. But somehow, what she did had been even worse.

The only contestant to even speak to her was Courtney. Under the dagger-like glares of the ther contestants, who were clearly expressing that they agreed with the C.I.T., she grabbed Heather by the hospital nightgown.

"It should have been YOU in that bed, not HIM." She snarled into Heather's face. "He didn't deserve this. He shouldn't have fallen for you, he should have fallen for someone BETTER."

"Like you?" Heather snapped. Courtney nodded.

"Exactly. I would have NEVER betrayed him. And you know what, Heather? We all think it should be YOU dying, not him!"

"I never said that-" DJ began warily, being the only contestant who didn't hate Heather, but Courtney shot him a vicious stare.

"You should have died at that beach! I don't know WHO, in their right mind, went back to save you, but they were an idiot."

What she was saying cut through Heather like a scythe, and she gritted her teeth. She knew she deserved far more than the injuries she had, but hearing it from Courtney wasn't helping. The revelation that no one went back to save her triggered a spark of curiosity in her head- who had, then?- but she ignored this.

"Just go away." She hissed, tears once again returning to he eyes. "I know you all hate me, but I don't give a cr p, okay? None of you can possibly hate me as much as I hate myself right now."

Courtney opened her mouth, prepared to protest, but LeShawna placed her hand on the C.I.T's shoulder, giving Heather a savage look as she lead her out, the others following. They all stopped to give Heather disapproving and angry glances, faces shadowed deeply by the overhead lights, and she sighed. Her physical pains meant nothing to her any more; mental pain overshadowed them by far. As the day darkened outside, she kept her eyes on Alejandro's bed, watching him with the pathetic hope that he might stir. Finally, when the clock told her that he had just 24 hours of life left, she couldn't take it any more. She only had one hope, and it was feeble and unlikely, but she was going to try. Slipping out of bed, her injured legs throbbing, she stumbled across to his bedside. He looked tragically injured, and seeing his face up close made her eyes, though already red and painful, sting once again. She took his injured hand softly, cringing as she felt the bandages, and stared into his tragic face.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered, voice cracking. "Oh, God, Alejandro, I had no idea. It was just the game- it got to my head and... I shouldn't have stopped kissing you." She felt the tears overflow and begin to fall weakly again- it was pathetic, but she couldn't help it. "I don't know what I'm going to do when you're..." she couldn't will her lips to form the word, with its black mortality. "But you still have 24 hours- please, please wake up. I know you're still alive in there. I can FEEL it!" She gulped. "The Alejandro I knew wouldn't have given up so easily. He wouldn't have just sat back and let himself die, just because some stupid bitch tricked him. So PLEASE, you jerk," She cupped his injured face carefully, trying not to interfere with his bandages and bruises. "WAKE UP."

He stayed perfectly still, not moving. Her lip trembled at the sight, and the hopelessness of the situation.

"Look!" She cried loudly, vision swimming. "Tomorrow evening, they're going to come in here and switch those machines off. And then you're going to be dead. You're going to be put in a box, and they'll either bury you or cremate you, and," She stalled; this was hard for her to admit. "You'll have never known... You'll have never known I loved you. Your last memories of me were me betraying you." A sob riveted through her words; she sniffed.

"I never actually told you that I loved you. But, even though you can't hear me, I'm going to say it now." As she spoke, her voice quavered with every word; she was sobbing properly now, voice feeling tight and contracted. "I love you, Alejandro; I hate you, but I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time. And I was so STUPID to give that up. So please, even if you don't have anything else to hold on for, hold on for me. I know what I did was unforgivable. I know that even if you survive, you won't want to be with me. But please, you jerk, PLEASE... WAKE UP!"

Nothing happened. Heather couldn't bear it any more; it came crashing down on her, and she fell onto her injured knees with a thwack of pain, breaking down. It was all over- her reason for existing, the only person she'd ever loved... It would all be gone. He wasn't going to wake up ever; she would have to watch as they reported him deceased, and carted his body off to the morgue. She was shaking, shivering; she placed her head in her hands, trying to staunch the flow of tears. As far as she was concerned, there was no point any more. No hope, no meaning... Everything was gone...

"PLEASE?" She screamed hoarsely, in one last attempt. "PLEASE, ALEJANDRO! I know you're in there somewhere! Just WAKE UP, YOU -CENSORED- BASTARD!"

Her voice was loud; it carried all the way down the hall, to the waiting area where tired families sat in uncomfortable plastic chairs, and waited for news about their loved ones. Other patients in other rooms heard, most of them piteous at Heather's despair. She watched, staring in vain at Alejandro.

"Don't do this to me." She whispered, finally, using her last ounce of strength to lean over and gently kiss his bruised lips, in one final plea. "I love you."

She shut her stinging, red eyes, inhaling raggedly. If she had opened her eyes, she might have seen him twitch just the tiniest bit; one scarred and blistered finger flicked the air. The screams she'd issued had carried further than she'd thought... His eyelids flickered for the briefest second, and she heard his heart rate pick up a notch... With a gasp, she leapt back. No way... This wasn't possible... She must have finally snapped and been hallucinating...

There was one drawn out moment, then his eyes burst open weakly. Heatclap pepped a hand to her mouth: she must have been dreaming or something...

The green orbs moved around, before focusing on her face. For a moment, they seemed to be struggling to remember who she was, then a flock of memories invaded his mind: the girl with the short-dark hair, teasing him and flirting with him; kissing him, before with a malicious laugh pushing him off a volcano... The most recent memories that hit his mind were choppy and disjointed; there was blinding pain, and yet through it he could hear her voice, screaming... He could see her being knocked under the water, watched her fight, and knew that as they'd left him to die, they would also leave her; he couldn't let that happen; though he felt paralyzed with his own injuries, he'd inched forward slowly, screaming her name; as she washed up, burned and not breathing, he'd scrambled into the shallow water to drag her out, forcing air into her lungs with his blistered lips...

Heather breathed slowly at him, heart beating frantically.

"You're alive?" She whispered tentatively.

Hearing her voice sent anther bout of familiarity into his recovering brain, and his lips moved, letting out the first word that came into his head.

"Heather..."

well, that was weird and clichè. And I'm kinda ashamed to say that I cried while writing this, after she found out they were planning on pulling the plug. What can I say?

For those who are interested, a new chapter of All or Nothing should be up this weekend, but don't get your hopes up because I might be too busy.