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chapter twenty five ━ adrift and at peace
season seven, episode ten

❝ i don't care about
stupid gallbladders! ❞

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"He's written these all wrong!" Aliya huffed, Derek's Alzheimer's trial outline led across her duvet, creating a sea of papers around her. She held one paper in each hand, raising them up in front of her as if that would change the fact she thought they sucked.

Jackson was sprawled under the sheets behind her, his hand tracing circles along her back as she rustled the papers in her hands with frustration, making heavy sighs every couple seconds. "It's just a draft, I'm sure—"

"Oh, this all has to go." She began to aggressively cross out sections of text in red ballpoint pen, wildly scribbling notes in the margins in her loopy handwriting, making her alterations incredibly illegible.

"Be careful, you might sprain your wrist." Jackson said, sarcastically, his hand rubbing at his eyes as Aliya whipped her head back to him, shooting him a look. "You're cute when you're frustrated." He yawned into his palm, dropping his head back onto the throw pillows behind him.

Aliya chewed her lip, leaning closer to him. "You know—"

However, whatever Aliya was going to say to him disappeared from her thoughts instantaneously as the pair were quickly interrupted by Alex, bursting through the door with as much force as a stampede.

"You're with him!" He exclaimed with widened and downright horrified eyes.

"Alex!" Leaping up and squashing multiple pieces of paper in the process, Aliya's hands left Jackson's chest as her pen flew from her hand, hitting the wall across from the bed.

"No freaking way!" Alex jaw dropped. "This can't be real!" Burying his head in his hands in disgust, Alex made an inhumane sound that was muffled by his palms pressing into his face. As this was happening, Aliya had bolted upright in her bed, her breathing heavy and a hand clutching her chest from the unwanted shock at eight in the morning.

The pair had successfully hidden their relationship for weeks, and it has been three weeks since they started Jackson became her boyfriend, and in an effort to stay in the honeymoon phase, they decided to keep it a secret.

But, the thing about secrets were, that they always found a way to come out.

A door from across the hall clicked open. "What's with all the commotion— Oh! I knew it! Ha!" Meredith clapped her hands in victory as she entered the room, beaming as she turned her head, ready to yell in the general direction of the attic doors. "Lexie! Lexie! You owe me twenty! Pay up!"

As if on cue, Lexie appeared abruptly in the room shortly after the sound of footsteps rapidly racing down the stairs. Her mouth hung open as she stood in the wide open doorway to Aliya's room.  "Could you just have kept it in your pants?" With a sigh, she turned to Meredith. "I'm losing twenty bucks now!"

"Sixty. I bet twenty too. So did Dr. Shepherd." April popped her head through the door out of nowhere, and all of a sudden four extra people were huddled around the doorway to Aliya's room showing that in this house, privacy was a myth.

"How am I gaining twenty dollars?" Derek stopped in the doorway, craning his neck. "Oh! Good Morning." He smirked as he pulled on a dark blue fleece, before continuing down the hall after the visual evidence.

"Boundaries! People!" Aliya slipped off of the bed, retrieving her pen and gathering up the papers into a somewhat neater pile than before, placing them safety on her chest of drawers she had owned for years — ever since New York. Aliya had a tendency of cultivating random and odd pieces of furniture, ranging from the dark wood dresser with brightly coloured handles, to the gingham patterned ottoman that was undeniably hideous that she had once used to barricade her door so Alex couldn't get in.

This habit also extended to decor — from her thrift store floral butter dish that she stored her rings in, to her wine rack she used as a bookshelf — and clothing. Her wardrobe was over flowing so much that the right leg broke a few years ago and was now being propped up by books she now planned on never reading from fear of it falling on top of her.

"I'm going to have to go to the ATM." Lexie returned beside Meredith and April with her purse, fishing out three dollar bills. "So, sixty? Twenty each?"

"I can't believe you." Aliya scoffed, shaking her head and turning away from the dresser, her arms crossed. "You placed bets!"

Meredith shrugged. "I mean, you were pretty obvious."

"The floorboards are old." Lexie stated, shifting her weight to prove the point as the floorboard creaked beneath her.

"And you keep giving each other puppy dog eyes." April contributed, smiling wide at Jackson who was still led causally on the bed, one hand propping up his head. At least Aliya had gotten up to put on her pyjamas on so she could read Derek's rough first draft. Jackson wasn't as lucky.

"It's cute." Meredith smiled, sipping her 'fertility' herbal tea she insisted on drinking even though she didn't believe in its qualities at all.

"It's sickening." Alex grimaced, his hands finally leaving his face, which was now a bright shade of red from his palms digging into his face. "You don't even like the Mets!" He pointed towards her shirt that hung near her knees, making it more like a dress.

Aliya looked down at her top, which was Jackson's, but that was completely irrelevant to the matter at hand. "What are you talking about?" She spat, watching his stutter on his words.

Rolling his eyes at the inability to justify why he pointed out her shirt, Alex huffed, finally acknowledging Jackson on the bed. "How long has this been going on?"

"Two months." Jackson offered, still under the safety of the blankets and pillows. Aliya side stepped sightly, attempting to hide him.

"What are you then?" Alex interrogated. "Are you just screwing or—"

"Alex!" Aliya exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at him. "This is your last chance to stop using tool box metaphors."

"Well?" He shrugged his shoulder, unbothered, his eyes shifting back and forth between the two. "I need to know if he's taking advantage so we can go for round three."

Jackson's eyes flicked up at him, raising a brow. "Don't forget I won the first two rounds, Karev."

"Yeah, yeah." Alex waved him off, his attention reverting back to his best friend. "So, are you, you know, together?"

"I'm in high school all over again." It was now Aliya's turn to bury her face in her hands. "Yes." Aliya answered into her palm.

"Oh, jeez!" Alex paced to the door, then back into the middle of the room. "For how long?"

"Um—" Aliya darted her eyes back to Jackson, screaming at him to help her.

And, he did. "Three weeks."

Though, it wasn't very helpful.

Alex made a sound somewhere between a short laugh and a scream. "And you didn't think to mention."

"I was gonna!" Aliya quickly replied back in frustration, her hands flying away from her face. "Eventually." She mumbled, silently.

"Alex, just be happy for her." Meredith interjected before Alex could create even more of a scene, tugging at his shirt lightly, making his expression even more murderous than it already was. "They look like they are having fun." She pointed out with a smirk.

Aliya scowled, dropping down onto the edge of the bed. "I'm not having fun right now."

Lexie raised a hand. "Am I the only one not in a committed relationship now?"

"I'm not!" April chimed in, enthusiastically, earning a look of pure disgust from Lexie, however, April stilled herself, something no one else caught on to before murmuring: "Wait, yeah I am."

"Okay." Meredith clapped her hands together, reaching back for Alex's arm. "Let's give them so privacy, come on, I'll make breakfast, be down in twenty." Tugging him out the door, she reached over and shut it quickly behind her, their voices disappearing as they headed down the stairs.

"I think that went well." Jackson announced whilst Aliya fell back, her head landing into Jackson's lap with a sigh.

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Aliya quickly ran down the stairs, jumping into a pair of blue jeans which seemed a lot like a safety hazard.

"Was that Cristina?" She called to Meredith, who was standing in the hall, watching the front door where it had just closed. She had heard the tale end of there very short, very painful conversation.

"Yes." Meredith replied, blankly, wrapping her red robe around her tightly, still standing aimlessly as Aliya came round the corner, grabbing her shoes and squashing her feet inside.

"What is actually going on between the two of you? And why has she quit? I went to see her at Joe's the other night and all we did was drink tequila." Aliya stated slipping into the kitchen, still rambling on to Meredith as she reached for her travel mug, pouring hot, freshly made coffee into it, then adding two sugars. "Not like I'm complaining or anything. I got a whole free bottle of tequila out of it, but still." She paused beside Meredith, who was still staring at the door, her expression troubled. "Mer?"

"She's fishing."

Aliya raised a brow. "Cristina's fishing?"

Nodding her head, Meredith frowned, lazily walking over to the sofa before dropping down onto it. "Yes."

"She hates the water." Aliya stated, earning a grunt from Meredith as she reached for her coat, before toni by her head over her shoulder to yell up the stairs. "Lexie! I'm leaving now!" She then glanced back to Mer. "Are you coming or do you need some time to process the fact Cristina is out on the water today?"

"Processing, please." Meredith responded, quietly.

Aliya pursed her lips with a nod. "Sounds good, have fun."

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"You're removing a gall bladder from someone's mouth!" Lexie marvelled.

"It's amazing!" Aliya watched with widened eyes at the screen in front of her, displaying the work Dr. Bailey and Dr. Webber were doing.

"No incision. No scar. It's like you were never there!" Lexie continued, excitedly. "Sorry, I'll stop taking."

"You want to do one of these?" Bailey asked, casually, as if she didn't just offer the chance to do a groundbreaking surgery.

Aliya gasped. "You're kidding!"

"Is that a trick question?" Lexie asked.

"The trick is, how bad do you want it?" Bailey smirked from under her face mask.

"When I was little, I wanted a pony." Lexie shared. "Like, really, really wanted a pony. This feels a little bit like that."

"Good." Dr. Bailey eyed the group, still maintaining focus. "'Cause I'm having a contest."

"Grabbing the gallbladder." Dr. Webber commentated, though no one was really listening now when Dr. Bailey mentioned a contest.

The thing about surgeons was that they shared one characteristic in common — they were insanely competitive in every aspect of their lives.

"Each of you is researching a different protocol aimed at trying to eliminate fistulas."

It was true.

Jackson had gotten physically exercise after surgery, getting the patient up as quickly as possible, April had gotten a list of medicines that work together, Lexie had gotten a post-operative checklist, and Aliya had gotten a schedule that listed when the dressings were meant to be changed, when the drugs were meant to be taken, when the patient can get out of bed, and what food they can eat, all at different times throughout the day.

"But, it's taking too long. So, this is the incentive. The person whose protocol leads to the fewest number of post-operative complication gets to pull a gallbladder out of a mouth." As Bailey finished her sentence, as if on cue, she pulled the patients gall bladder out, holding it up in the air on the end of the tube as if it was trophy.

A very odd trophy.

April's hand shot up into the air. "May I be excused? I am checking on my patients every two hours and it's time."

"Go ahead." Bailey nodded her head, dropping the hall bladder into the metal tray.

Aliya watched April practically run out of the room. And as the door closed, she shot Jackson a glance, quickly realising what she was up too. "Oh, please can I be excused as well? Mr. Nelson needs to take his pills and he always puts up a fight."

Bailey smirked from underneath her mask. "Sure, you can go."

Aliya bolted to the door in a matter of milliseconds.

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About four hours after the contest announcement, Aliya was leant against the desk, an abundance of charts stacked beside her, the numerous schedules for each of her patients in a ring binder open in front of her where she was ticking off the two o'clock section, the time where the dressings were being changed.

"How's it going?" Lexie peered over at Aliya's papers, who shifted slightly to cover them up.

"Good." Aliya nodded, continuing to write in the boxes with her head dipped down, her hair fanned out as if acting like a shield.

Lexie quirked a brow, attempting to peer over at her work. "Just good?"

"I just discharged my post-op day ten. No fistula's in sight." Aliya smiled wide, pointing at Mrs. Ferguson's calendar, which was filled with various coloured highlighters.

"Hm-hm." Lexie pursed her lips, referring back to her post-op checklist.

"Dr. Levine! Check out Mrs. Kay." Jackson walked past Aliya, an old woman attached to his arm, like she was wearing him as an accessory. "Day three post-op. No fistula. Already walking right away. Eating right away. Isn't that right, Mrs. Kay?"

"Can I go back to bed now? I'm tired." Mrs. Kay groaned from where she was walking at a right angle, practically clinging ahold of Jackson's arm for dear life.

Aliya looked at him, accusingly. "Jackson, that's elder abuse."

"One more lap." Jackson urged Mrs. Kay, patting her lightly on the hand and flashing one last grin at Aliya as he disappeared around the corner.

"Okay, there's no evidence that shows getting patients up faster makes any difference at all." April pointed out as she joined Lexie and Aliya at the desk.

Aliya nodded her head in agreement. "A study actually found that it makes it worse. That patients should avoid strenuous exercise."

"How's it going with your protocol? Looks like you— oh!" April interuppted Lexie as she pulled open her sheet of paper, listing almost a dozen different drugs. "Wow. It seems like you've added just another medicine to your drug regimen there?"

"Yeah! I mean, if you call octreotide just another medicine." April made an act of peering over at Lexie's list. "So, you're still sticking with the little list?"

"Yes." Lexie smiled with her pen in her hand, which she was clutching so hard her knuckles were turning white. "Standard post-op protocol with a checklist I've developed for accountability."

"Oh my gosh!" April burst out, turning finally getting Aliya's attention who had been to busy pencilling in a possible extra dressing change in between the two o'clock and eight o'clock one. "So you know what? When I was little, I wanted a pony, too. And you know what happened? I worked really hard and I got one." April laughed, mockingly, Lexie doing the same.

"You know April—" Aliya leaned over, gesturing towards her extensive drug regime. "Octreotide actually works in competition with a dozen other post-op drugs, did you make sure to double check that?"

The red heads face drained of all colour as she checked back to her charts of different drugs, quickly eyeing them before gathering them up in her arms and dashing back down the hall.

Lexie cracked a smile, nudging Aliya's arm before walking away from her. "You're competitive." 

"And you're not?" She grinned back, tucking her loose hair behind her ears and turning to the Nurse who was manning the desk. "Could I grab Mrs. Vasquez's chart, please?"

The nurse in question, Suzie, nodded her head with a smile.  "Of course." She replied, disappearing into the Nurses Station.

Aliya turned to Lexie. "Is Alex still mad? He hasn't looked at me all day. I feel like he thinks I'm personally responsible for the death of a thousand puppies."

"He'll get over it." Lexie assured. "It's not like he walked into his mom screwing the principal."

Aliya made a face. "That would be a whole other level of emotional scarring."

"You know him. He's over-protective with you, just warn Jackson to sleep with one eye open at night." Lexie joked.

"And, maybe a butter knife underneath his pillow, just for precaution." Aliya added.

"Sorry Dr. Levine—" Suzie returned from the Nurse's station, her shoes squeaking across the floor. "Was that Francis Vasquez, or Summer Vasquez?"

Aliya stilled, slowly turning towards her, her blood immediately going cold as she saw the two charts held in the nurse's hand, her mind trying to process why in the world Summer Vasquez, her longest friend, would have a chart at this hospital.

"I'll take both." She managed to say before even processing it all fully, accepting them from Suzie quickly, who was twenty-five and didn't know any better as she handed the charts off, quickly walking away with her blonde ponytail swinging behind her.

Aliya didn't realise Lexie had disappeared through that exchange, all she could do was focus on the two charts in her hands.

It was as if the whole world around her had stopped.

Tucking one chart — Summer Vasquez's — under one arm and the other — Francis Vasquez's — on top of the pile in her hands, she made her way to a computer room so she could type all of the information she had gathered from the post-op schedule's she created.

That was what she would tell people if they asked. She had no intention of typing anything up, she wouldn't even log onto the computer.

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Somewhere between an hour of staring straight at the chart pages in front of her and actually comprehending what was written on them, Aliya's eyes were fuzzy and glazed, her whole body in a toxic mixture of shock and denial.

A handful of minutes ago she had been joined by Bailey, Jackson, Lexie and April, who were discussing their latest findings, though Aliya didn't have much time for fistulas, and she didn't really care how bad that made her look.

"Well, he's right." Dr Bailey stated, looking through the charts Lexie supplied her with.

Aliya wasn't listening, all she knew what that one of the nurses, Eli, had taken the fluid bags out earlier than Lexie wanted and that could have something to do with reducing the risk of post-operative fistulas.

"His patient records for the past three months show a post-op complication rate way lower than the norm. Wait, 12% compared to 42%?"

"Yeah." Lexie confirmed, swaying behind Bailey with her arms crossed. Her hair was now swept up in a ponytail, and Aliya for a second wondered how long she had been sat on this chair for.

Her back felt stiff, her eyes were strained, and the letters in the pages looked jumbled up.

Jackson exhaled, bending down to take a closer look at what Bailey had in front of her. "Wow."

"Okay, can you two stop being impressed by him?" Lexie moaned, crossing her arms. "It's a fluke. He's mean."

Bailey waved a hand in dismissal. "Hand me those charts."

"I think he's kinda hot." April chimed, handing Bailey a chart before turning to Lexie. "Can you say that about a nurse?"

Lexie shook her head. "No."

"Okay— Oh." Bailey mumbled to herself, turning pages with rapid motions as something clicked, like a piece of the puzzle slotted into place.

Jackson seemed to realise Aliya hadn't said two words, even though her face was covered by her forearm pressed against her head, he could still make out that she was trembling.

"Are you okay?"

Aliya hadn't realised he was stood by her.

She blinked, her hands dropping down onto the chart. "Yeah."

"Day three. Day Three. Day three. Oh. Okay, deep breaths. Deep breaths." She was gathering up the pages in a hurry, sliding up from her seat and making her way to the door.

"Dr. Bailey?" Lexie regarded Bailey in confusion as she started to mutter strings of words under her breath.

"Okay. Okay." She mumbled as she began to jog down the hall, leaving the four residents behind.

Lexie gawked in the direction Bailey disappeared off to. "Okay, should we be following her?"

"I think so." April spoke up, dashing to the door with Lexie following close behind.

But, the Levine woman didn't even move an inch.

"Hey, Aliya? Are you coming?" Jackson reached his hand out, letting it rest on her shoulder, and even through her scrubs he could tell she had grown cold. "Aliya?"

She swallowed down the lump in her throat, turning her head slightly to look at him. "Yeah."

Jackson's brows furrowed as he glimpsed at her widened eyes. "Aliya, what's going on?"

"I—" She rose from the desk chair, flipping the chart shut, tucking it tightly underneath her arm to make sure it didn't get lost in the sea of charts that were scattered across the table. "I have to go."

She spoke with a newfound sense of urgency, drawing her phone from her pocket and finding the number for the airline so she could get an earlier flight.

"I have to get an earlier flight." She announced, more to herself than to Jackson. Cradling the phone in her hand, she punched in the numbers, though she wasn't thinking straight and the last button she pressed to dial erased the whole entire thing. "Crap!"

"Hey, hey, hey, what's going on?" Jackson spoke warmly, his voice soft as his green eyes scanned her, unaware of what was racing around in her mind.

There was no doubt Jackson could read her like a book. He could pinpoint every expression, every nervous tick — how her nose scrunched when she was happy, how her lips turned into a frown when she was frustrated, how her forehead creased when she was concentrating.

Though this expression was one he had only saw once before.

She had the same expression when a gun was being aimed at her head.

A gun had been aimed at the woman he loves head, and a part of him ached for her back then, he had wanted her for what felt like ages. And when that happened right in front of his very eyes, it wasn't something a person could forget.

"I need to go to Los Angeles." Tapping the numbers into her phone again, she pressed a hand to her forehead, her head pounding so fast it was hard to see straight ahead of her as stars turned her vision hazy. She cursed herself for not checking the expiry date on her contacts.

"I know you do—" Jackson spoken cautiously, his hand steadying her as she walked aimlessly to the door, walking into a chair on her attempt. "Your flight is at six. I'm driving you to the airport." He told her, trying to stop her from knocking over a second chair.

"No—" Aliya resolved to the fact she couldn't dial a number, so she decided she would try her luck at the airport help desk. With a quick glance at the time, which now read four o'clock, she discovered she had spent an hour and a half hunched over. "I need to go to LA now. Right now. By right now, I mean yesterday. I should be there, I need to see S—"

"Aliya, breathe." He caught her by the elbows, and her arms went slack at his touch, causing her phone to slip out of her hand and onto the carpeted floor. "Tell me what's going on?"

Both Aliya and Jackson's pager buzzed, he quickly looked down to see it, they were doctors after all, even if they were in crisis mode.

The Avery man sighed, his hand still placed gently on her arm. "Dr Bailey wants to announce who's doing the gall bladder—"

"I don't care about stupid gallbladders!" Aliya snapped, though she didn't mean to, it was the last thing she wanted to do.

Especially to him.

"All I care about Summer." Her voice broke, and she dipped her head, her shoulder shaking as she tried with every fibre of her being to hold the tears back. "I just found out she has cancer, so I need to get on a plane to Calfornia for my parents' freaking Thanksgiving meal and go see her. Now."

The words 'Summer' and 'Cancer' were something Aliya didn't want to have to say in the same sentence, and she could physically feel her heart breaking with a bombardment of fear of loosing her friend, and the hurt that she didn't even tell her she was going through all of that.

A lymphoma wasn't something that should be hidden from those who loved you the most.

Aliya couldn't even begin to comprehend how she could hide such a thing from her.

She was a doctor after all, she could've helped.

She was diagnosed eight months ago.

Eight.

Over half a year ago, her childhood best friend was diagnosed with cancer, and she hadn't even bothered to let her know.

Jackson froze, opening his mouth to speak, then clearing his throat. "Summer has cancer? Aliya—"

"I just found out she's been hiding it from me for months." Aliya blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall. "Jackson, for months."

Her voice broke again, and she sobbed, and he pulled her close, her face pressing against his scrubs, probably staining them with her mascara streaked tears.

"I found her chart." She stammered the words
out. "I read it all. Why didn't she tell me? I don't understand."

She dropped back down into the chair, slipping out of Jackson's warm embrace and burying her head in her hands as her tears started to come out in floods.

"The chart was signed by Dr. Peterson. She did a good job of removing it, I just—"

Jackson crouched down in front of her, his hands bracing on her knees. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't understand." She repeated, her hands leaving her face, all red and puffy. "Why didn't she tell me? Eight freaking months, Jackson!"

Jackson's hand went to her cheek, slowly wiping away one of his tears, something written on his expression Aliya couldn't quite pinpoint. "I don't know, I really don't know, Aliya— I'm so sorry."

"I tell her everything—" Aliya sniffed, pressing a hand against her throbbing heart. "Nearly everything."

She corrected in a lower voice as she gazed at the man before her— the person she had left out of her conversations with Summer was in fact Jackson.

"She must've had good reason." He justified, leaning away from her and reaching for the tissue box on the desk opposite them, handing Aliya a stack that could dry a whole lake. "I'll come with you. To LA. I'll come with you."

She knew he would do that in a heartbeat, he didn't have to be told twice.

They hadn't spent the past two months getting to know every single aspect of each other in more ways than one for him to not care.

"It'll be a recreation of How To Loose A Guy In Ten Days." Aliya spoke through the mound of tissues.

Because, even if she so desperately wanted him with her, a part of her knew that if he met her mother, it would all go wrong. It would go disastrous so fast there was no way for her to control it.

It would all go slipping out of her grasp.

And, even though it was too early to tell him, she loved him.

And, she couldn't lose him. Not now, not ever.

"More like twenty one." Jackson corrected, a small smile on his face in an attempt to cheer her up, even just by a fraction.

Aliya balled the tissues in her hands, raising a brow at him. "Funny."

"It's one of my best qualities." He smiled wider then, and that was just about enough to make Aliya feel the slightest bit of sense in a situation that felt impossible.

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Gerard was a taxi driver with no sense of direction, which Aliya would've found awfully hilarious if she wasn't in her current state. Her stomach was in knots, her heart was hammering inside her chest, and to be frank, she really had no time for Gerard.

Aliya stared down at her phone, reading the time carefully.

"Hey, Gerard. How far away are we?" She tried not to sound frustrated with the whole thing. Squinting at the street, she recognised the pizza place they had passed fifteen minutes ago. "We've gone in a circle." She announced silently in total disbelief.

"Ah!" He replied, though it wasn't much of a reply, it was just a sound with no real words that had a dictionary definition.

"Great." Aliya muttered, checking the time yet again, even though she already checked five seconds ago. This time, a text lit up her screen.

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SUMMER VASQUEZ (4:30pm)

Your mother is asking me to cut the
potatoes for dinner tonight.
We're staying in the spare room.
Does your mother have any preferences
to how I should cut her potatoes?

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ALIYA LEVINE (4:30pm)

quarters, though if she's already
had a few glasses of wine, go rogue
and cut them into thirds

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SUMMER VASQUEZ (4:32pm)

Thirds it is!
⠀

It was as if Summer knew Aliya was thinking about her.

Because, how could she not think about her?

In her hand held luggage, she had a photocopy of Summer's chart pages to read on the flight, even though she knew it would torture her even more.
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SUMMER VASQUEZ (4:33pm)

How has it been with your mom?

⠀
ALIYA LEVINE (4:33pm)

splendid

SUMMER VASQUEZ (4:33pm)

How has it really been?

Give me the uncensored version

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ALIYA LEVINE (4:34pm)

i've taken up karate and pottery

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SUMMER VASQUEZ (4:34pm)

You've what?

⠀
ALIYA LEVINE (4:35pm)

alex and i joined an adult beginners
karate class. i can just about get my
leg up in the air to throat kick her

⠀
SUMMER VASQUEZ (4:36pm)

Now that's something I have
to see before I die
⠀

Aliya stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she thought of what to reply, though all she could do was hyper fixate on that word. Summer's lighthearted jokes had a whole other meaning now.

⠀
SUMMER VASQUEZ (4:38pm)

Well, I'll be there for you all the way.
Squeeze my hand and I'll know it's my
cue to throat punch her from across
the table. You're not that flexible.

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ALIYA LEVINE (4:39pm)

you're always on my side

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SUMMER VASQUEZ (4:40pm)

Always. You know that

ALIYA LEVINE (4:42pm)

and i am flexible!!!!!!!
i did gymnastics!!!!!!

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SUMMER VASQUEZ (4:43pm)

Okay :)

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SUMMER VASQUEZ (4:44pm)

You're going to have to tell me about
this new boyfriend of yours when you land,
I want pictures, maybe print off his CV while you're at it. And find his social security number.
I can get my dad to do a FBI background check.

You've been with him for three weeks
and you haven't even let me meet him,
you're despicable!

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ALIYA LEVINE (4:45pm)

how do you even know????

⠀
SUMMER VASQUEZ (4:45pm)

My spies

Oo! Could you also grab a toenail
or a lock of hair??

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ALIYA LEVINE (4:46pm)

oh, sure, that seems perfectly reasonable

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SUMMER VASQUEZ (4:47pm)

Great!

I love you

⠀
ALIYA LEVINE (4:47pm)

i love you too <3
⠀

Turning off her phone, Aliya looked back up to the wing-mirror, displaying Gerard's greying features as his brown eyes stared out at the road, a very vacant expression on his face.

"Gerard. I'm gonna need an ETA."

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—✩—
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With the overwhelming sense of deja vu, Aliya walked up to the front door of her childhood home, holding her bags in one hand, her comfy sneakers and jeans now stuffed in her bag, replaced by boots and a dress that her mother wouldn't turn her nose up at the sight of.

Everything about the house was the same as it always had been. Since last year, since ten years ago. Since twenty years ago even. It was weirdly comforting, but also that house felt like a prison to her, despite its grandeur.

Aliya reached her hand up, holding the knocker and letting it knock back a few times on the door.

"Oh, hi!" The brunette exclaimed.

The short woman who opened the door by just a fraction, so all Aliya could see was her face, stared at her, and also the fact that she was dressed in a blue shirt and black trousers, an apron tied around her waist which appeared to be stained multiple colours.

"Hello." She replied, looking just as confused as Aliya.

Clearing her throat, Aliya hoisted her bag up her shoulder as it began to slip off. "I'm Aliya, Molly and Travis's daughter?"

"Oh. Yes. Come in." She held the door open wider, letting Aliya saunter through. "I'll take your bags." The mystery woman stated, wandering off with Aliya's belongings, her back hunched over as if the bags were going to knock her out.

She was probably only four foot eleven inches.

"Ingrid? Ingrid!" Molly Levine rounded the corner, emerging from the general direction of the kitchen, stopping in her tracks as she saw her daughter, standing in front of her. "Aliya? What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too, Mom." Aliya gave her a strained smile, taking off her coat.

Molly looked at Aliya up and down. "I didn't know you were coming this early." She stated, flatly.

Aliya had only just realised her mother was also wearing an apron — probably the first time she had ever seen her mother wear an apron.

Aliya didn't even know she owned one.

"Oh." Aliya pursed her lips, tilting her head in thought. "I spoke to Ingrid, who is Ingrid?"

Molly narrowed her eyes. "She's a cooking instructor—"

"A cooking instructor?"

"Yes. A cooking instructor. I thought it might be useful to learn a thing or two." Her mother shrugged, nonchalantly. "But, she's taken it upon herself to answer the door and pick up the phone, so I just let her."

"So, she didn't tell you?" Aliya questioned, turning away from Molly to take off her coat and put it on the rack.

It all made sense now, the woman on the phone was Ingrid.

Molly nodded, thoughtfully, flicking an invisible piece of lint from her shirt. "I was wondering why she put fresh sheets on your— Aliya put your coat at the back!"

Aliya swivelled her head around during her attempt to hang her coat on the overfilled rack, confused at her mothers surprise outburst. "The back of where? What do you mean?"

"Put it underneath my Burberry one!" Molly ordered, pointing manically at the beige trench coat hung to the far left.

Turning slowly back to the coatrack, then even more slowly back at her mother, Aliya's eyes widened in realisation. "Mom, are you embarrassed of my coat?"

"No." She denied.

Molly's left eye twitched.

Aliya's jaw dropped and she shifted away from the rack, her coat still in her arms from her failed attempt at getting it on the less crowded hook. "You so are!"

"So isn't a word you use in a sentence." Molly crossed her arms over her apron, which Aliya recognised had tiny frills adorning the hem.

Her mother hated frills.

What was going on?

"Don't change the subject." Aliya tore her attention back to the matter at hand, something other than the frills.

"I'm not changing the subject." Molly insisted, running a hand through her hair, pushing the blonde waves back.

Aliya held her coat in the air, the gold metallic buttons reflecting in the light from the crystal chandelier above them. "Why do you have a problem with my coat?—"

"I don't have a—"

Aliya continued to speak over her mother, something the pair tended to do a lot when they were together. Maybe it was that was their problem, they never listened to one another.

"—Because I bought it on sale from that designer shop you like in Malibu a few years ago."

"Ten years ago." Molly corrected, helpfully.

Frowning, Aliya stroked the pocket of her coat, realising that there was tissue stuffed in there that she had forgotten to take out. "That's ageist."

"That is not ageist." Molly spoke, sternly, shifting her weight so her Ugg slippers scuffed across the floor. She rolled her eyes, visibly bored my the whole exchange. "I have a very particular filing system for the coats."

Aliya pouted, holding her coat closer to her. "You've hurt her feelings."

"It's an inanimate object." Molly replied, incredibly unamused. "Coats don't have a nervous system or a brain."

"You don't know that." Aliya muttered.

"Anyway—" Molly lengethed the word, striding over to the foyer dresser, adjusting the autumnal bouquet so the antique vase was at a slight angle towards the door. "—Ingrid but new sheets on the bed an hour ago when I was chopping potatoes with Summer. She cut them into thirds."

"The world is ending." Aliya mocked, shoving her coat onto the rack on top of the Burberry coat.

Her mother frowned for seventieth time that evening. "She's upstairs if you want to disappear up there for the rest of the night."

Aliya held a hand to her chest. "You understand me so well."

Molly stepped back, examining the positioning. "You're an anomaly."

That was probably the nicest thing her mother had ever said to her.

"Thanks for the compliment." She replied quickly before turning on her heel, making her way up the marble staircase to the spare bedroom she presumed Summer was staying in, the one she always stayed in right next door to Aliya's childhood bedroom.

The whole time spent conversing with her mother had almost taken her mind off the real reason she was here early.

It was also incredibly less painful than she thought it would be, seeing as she hadn't properly spoken to her mother since the shooting several months ago.

It wasn't weird though, the pair never talked.

She braced herself before knocking on the door, needing time to mentally prepare.

"Hello?" A quieted voice sounded through the wood.

Aliya swallowed before replying. "It's Aliya."

"Aliya!" Summer squealed from inside the room, as if they were eight years old again.

After that, the door swung open and Aliya was being pulled into a hug, Summer's arm wrapped around her shoulders so tightly she thought she could be suffocated in her cream jumper.

"I thought you were coming tomorrow?" Summer smiled, her voice high-pitched, and only when Aliya had looked closer, she realised her best friend was wearing a wig.

"I got an earlier flight." Aliya dug her head into Summer's shoulder, her arms wrapping around her tighter.

As if she thought, if she could hold on a little longer, none of this would be real.

"We can tap messages on the wall like we used to! For nostalgic reasons, obviously." Summer smiled, pushing Aliya back by the shoulders, something she always did, for as long as they known each other.

It was as if she was analysing her.

Taking in every single detail.

"You sleeping?" Summer asked, but Aliya should be asking her that.

How could she have not noticed how— different Summer looked? How could she have been that blind?

"Yes, fine. I'm sleeping fine." Aliya replied, raising a brow. "Are you?" She asked, pointedly, her tone coming off more intense than she intended to, though it wasn't something she could turn off on a whim at this point.

Summer squeezed her shoulder. "Eating?"

Rolling her eyes, Aliya groaned. "Yes."

"Well, you look great." Summer finally let go, stepping back so Aliya could make her way into the room.

As Summer was shutting the door, Aliya took a moment to briefly look around, feeling like some sort of detective.

Summer's makeup was left on the dresser, the contents spilled out on the surface.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a tiny orange medicine pot, half filled with pills, hidden behind a Giorgio Armani perfume.

Her eyes skimmed over her black Thanksgiving dress, hung up on the doorframe of the en-suite.

"What's—"

"Summer—"

The pair spoke at the same time as Summer slipped onto the bed, her head falling onto the cushions.

"You first! I'm too tired to talk." Summer yawned into her palm, her eyes fluttering shut.

"Can you sit up, please?" Aliya dropped down onto the bed next to Summer, who was now fully curled up under the duvet.

"No." Summer muttered, but then eventually she pushed herself up a few seconds later, peeling her eyes open, reluctantly. "Carry on."

Aliya opened her mouth to speak, though she couldn't find the words.

She knew exactly what she wanted to say, she could write a whole entire essay just about what she wanted to say.

Though she couldn't articulate any of her thoughts into actual, coherent words.

"Anything going on up there?" Summer said, her head tilted to the side, causing her hair to spill out across her pillow.

"I know." Aliya finally spoke, softly — which she realised without any type of context sounded quite elusive.

Though the fact she was biting back tears threatening to fall from her eyes, she didn't really find it necessary to provide the context.

It was there, so clearly on her face.

This was the point where she couldn't cry.

She couldn't cry because Summer needed her, more than ever.

It was not Aliya's time to break.

Summer's smile faded only slightly, though she picked herself back up again after. "Know what?"

She tried to smile, but it was so obvious she knew, that Aliya knew.

Reaching out a hand, Aliya took Summer's hand in hers, squeezing it tightly before giving her an all knowing smile. "Summer, I know."

"No—" Her breath caught as she tried to clear her throat, and Aliya had to push down the sinking feeling in her stomach.

The Vasquez woman dipped her head, her jaw tensing at this information.

"How do you—" Summer pursed her lips closed, still dodging Aliya's eyes. "How did you find out?"

Aliya shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Did Mae— I should've—" Summer choked on a sob, her free hand flying to her mouth to try and stop herself from falling apart. "I should've told you. I shouldn't have kept it from you. I got diagnosed eight months ago and I was gonna tell you, but the shooting—" She cried, her head falling into Aliya's lap.

"It's okay." Aliya soothed, smoothing Summer's hair back carefully. "Everything's going to be okay."

She didn't know who she was saying that to.

⠀
—✩—
⠀

A FEW HOURS LATER
⠀

"Hey." Aliya spoke quietly into her phone.

Summer had long gone to bed, along with the rest of the people in the house, though she was pretty sure Ingrid was still pottering about downstairs, overstaying her welcome.

The Levine girl was sat on her balcony, curled up on the chair, overlooking the secluded backyard, shielded by trees. She remembered once that Eliana always used to complain about the trees, telling their mother that she couldn't get a good tan from them, they were blocking the sun.

That memory seemed to comfort her, in the most unlikely way known to Aliya.

"I heard." Alex's voice crackled through the speaker. There was a full moon out, which Aliya would usually find thrilling, but she took as a personal mockery. As if the lunar cycle could really reflect real life. "I can be on the next flight out."

Aliya smiled, snuggling deeper into the two blankets she had wrapped herself in. "It's okay, she has a village already."

"I'm talking about you." Alex's voice was clearer now, the background noise of the ER sounding in the background of the call. "Who's going to be there for you?"

"A bottle of rosé." Aliya chuckled, reaching across for her glass and taking a long sip.

Alex scoffed in amusement. "Aliya—"

"I'm only kidding. A glass." Aliya corrected, setting the glass back down onto the table. "Summer is the only person that matters right now, okay?"

"Okay." The hesitation in his tone was obvious, but Aliya chose to ignore it.

"I'll be back in Seattle in a few days." She told him, tucking a loose strand of hair that was blowing across her face behind her ear. "I'm taking Summer to her chemo." She managed to say, even saying those words made her stomach churn.

"Lymphoma, eh?" Someone shouting in the background blew through the speaker, louder than Alex's voice. "I read the chart."

Nodding her head, Aliya dropped her eyes back down to the photocopied pages of her chart in her lap. "It's a lot."

"Next flight out." He reminded, for the second time.

With a smirk, Aliya reached back again for her wine glass. "I know, Alan."

"If calling me Alan makes you feel better." Alex sighed, lightheartedly.

Aliya leant her head against her arm, massaging her temple. "I've read this chart a dozen times."

"You should really get some sleep."

"I don't think I can." Aliya realised she had drank the whole glass, though she was way too comfy to get up and pour another one. "Summer said that she didn't tell me because of the shooting. She didn't want to worry me even more."

"You were going through alot."

"That's no excuse to keep something like that." Aliya pointed out with a sigh, shaking her head in how awful this whole situation was.

She would have to cancel meeting with Andy's lawyer, there was no way she could make that.

"But, I can't be mad." Aliya sighed. "She has cancer, so I can't be mad. Does that make me horrible?"

Alex paused so Aliya could here his heavy breathing through the phone. "Not anymore horrible than the next person."

"That's really helpful, Alex. Thanks."

"Aliya— It makes you human." Alex exclaimed, the noises of the ER were getting increasingly louder. "It shows that you care."

An inhuman scream echoed through the speaker, causing Aliya to wince slightly from the sound.

"Oh jeez, I have to go, Lye. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay. Good night." She hung up the phone, instantly finding his contact next.

The phone didn't even have a chance to ring twice.

He picked it up on the first ring.

"Hey, sweetheart." Jackson spoke warmly into the phone, and she could almost picture him in front of her.

"Hey." She smiled at his voice, unable to contain it.

"How is everything over there? How's Summer?"

"Everything's okay, all things considered." Aliya replied with a sigh, reaching for her wine glass. "I beat my Mom at Trivial Pursuit, so I'm feeling pretty great right about now."

He chuckled from down the line. "That's quite an accomplishment. You must be thrilled."

"You'll understand the feeling one day." She promised, taking a sip of her wine. "And, you'll be able to see my mother look like she could throw the cheeseboard across the room, that's a face you cannot miss."

"I would actually like to meet your mother just so I can see her look like she wants to throw brie across the room." He said with a light chuckle. "Give me a time and a place."

With her phone nestled between her cheek and her shoulder, she let her hand slip back under the covers to keep warm.

It was November after all, hypothermia still existed, even if she was in California.

⠀
⠀
⠀

( notes! )

i don't know if octreotide works in competition with other drugs in real life, but let's just say it does and trust aliya because she's smart

also summer :( i'm sorry 💔

come back for the next chapter (technically part 2 of this chapter but i gave it its own song title name hehe) which is probably my favourite chapter i've ever written purely for soul crushing drama reasons (slight spoiler oops)

( word count! — 8,000 )