Helen Karev, Alex’s mother, was absent for most of his childhood. Metaphorically, absent. She would often forget to feed him and his siblings, resulting in Alex being temporarily sent to juvie after stealing food. She suffered from bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, though during her adulthood, she started to become less affected by it. Alex had always been her caregiver, making sure that she was taking her medications on time and caning her down through episodes.

While you weren’t told explicitly about his upbringing, you had heard rumors and overheard conversations and pieced together parts of Alex’s upbringing. It was hard to believe that the callous, tough guy in your intern class had experienced first-hand the struggles that you also go through. You were in your late-teens when you first started exhibiting symptoms of bipolar disorder.

You sat in the interns’ locker room, hyper vigilant as you looked at the small orange bottle of mood stabilizers on the bench next to you. You glanced around, making sure that nobody was watching as you discreetly swallowed a capsule with experienced ease. You let out a sigh, cradling your head in your hands as you just thought. People would inevitably find out about your disorder, one way or another. But it wasn’t time to tell them yet. Internship was competitive, even your peers would take the smallest cracks in your person and pick them apart to make you look bad.

Alex had been watching you from the reflection of the mirror in his locker. He saw the pill bottle, and quirked an eyebrow. Did your residents know? What were they for..? Were they medical drugs, or recreational? The curiosity, and mild confidence, in him led him over to you. You were placing the bottle in your locker when you heard his footsteps approach