milliways_bar | (no subject)

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izzie stevens

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The Izzie walking into Bar tonight is walking without the noticeable bounce in her step. Gone is the makeup she normally wears - her face is wan and pale. She's not even in her scrubs. Her outfit consists of sweatpants and a bulky hoodie. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail away from her face.

At least, she thinks to herself with a wry smile, she still has hair.

Izzie Stevens is dying, and she doesn't have much time left.

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"Some tea, maybe?" Normally, she'd pick coffee, but she's not so sure caffeine would be good for the cancer right now.

"Sure," he says, and comes back shortly with two cups of tea; his is in a mug.

She accepts the cup with a grateful smile and a murmured thanks.

"So things are pretty hairy where you are, huh?" Izzie asks, and before she can think to ask for it, a waitrat appears with a bottle of honey for her tea.

"Well... they were. But I think we're finally on our way to winning now," he says, and takes a sip of his tea. "We're mostly just on the mend, now."

"Looks like," she answers, motioning to the healing wounds.

She'd offer to take a look at them, but chances are someone already has, and she doesn't trust her own skills anymore.

"Yeah."

There's a pause, then he looks at his cup and starts to ask what he's been wanting to ask: "Are you?"

Her eyes snap up from her tea.

"Am I what?"

"On the mend, too."

There's another pause.

"I... didn't want to pry, but... I worry, y'know?"

"I don't know if it's a question of being on the mend when there's a five-percent chance of fixing it in the first place," Izzie answers.

She swallows slowly. It's still hard to talk about it with other people.

Barney wasn't sure at first, but this confirms it, and Barney tries not to let his face totally drop.

"Oh. I... I'm sorry." He reaches a hand over to hers, hesitantly.

Her next breath isn't as strong as the others, but she shakes her head.

"It's fine, it'll be fine. They want me to have an operation and then it'll be fine."

"Izzie..." There's a beat. "Are you sure?"

A long pause.

Then, quietly:

Barney sighs, slowly, and thinks for a second before speaking. (It's something he does when he's dealing with stress.)

"Have you asked around here? Is there anyone that could help you?"

"It's pretty far advanced," Izzie confesses. "Stage four."

And even if there was someone who could heal her, help her - would she even want that? Denny had come to take her with him. Would he still show up if she somehow managed to cheat this thing?

"Do you... are you prepared to die?" He's asking seriously.

What he doesn't ask: do you want to?

She takes another, longer breath.

"No one's asked me that."

"I was, I thought," Barney says quietly. "I wanted to, actually. But then... I really wasn't. It just got really bad."

"I don't know," she says again.

"I thought I was. I was going to sit back, let it run its course until there wasn't anything left - of me. And then something changed. And my friends - they want me to have the surgery, even though there's a good chance I won't make it out -"

Her words fail her before she can finish.

Barney doesn't exactly bite his lip, but he comes close. What he does instead is very carefully wrap an arm around Izzie. Barney Calhoun gives good hugs, and it's the sort of thing she could use right now.

Hugs do help, and she accepts this one readily, though she wills herself to hold back the tears. There've been too many of those this week.

It happens, sometimes. And Barney won't tell a soul.

There might be one or two tears that slip out then, but they're left against the fabric of Barney's coat, and when she pulls away to look at him, there they remain.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be crying all over you like this."

"It's okay," he assures her. "I'd rather you cry all over me than have to cry alone. It's just the kind of person I am."

"You're a good person," Izzie insists, realizing the words as she's saying them.

Like Denny, her brain adds for her.

"I just try... to be a good friend, is all," Barney replies. "When my friends need me."

"Thank you," she murmurs. "I - thank you."

"No problem."

A beat, and he gives her a little squeeze. (She's so fragile.)

"And if there's anything more I can do, just lemme know, okay? I'm not going back home for a while, at least."

There's the obvious reason why Izzie doesn't exactly feel like going back to Seattle.

Because maybe, if time stops here, so will the spread of the cancer.

The corner of her mouth twitches into a half-smile. "Just being here - it's... I really appreciate it."

"And I'm sure everyone here is glad you can come here," he says. "I know I am."

[[Sorry, this got lost in my inbox!]]

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