You move in with Julia.
Not because you love her, no not exactly, although you suppose that you do to some extent—losing Lexie has made you realize that on some level, you need Julia. At least, you need someone right now to put you back together, to pull those fragile pieces back into place and sew them up correctly. The stitches over your chest, over your heart where Meredith performed the surgery that may have saved your life, are nothing close to the kind of healing you need to be whole again. And really, you're not even sure that being whole again is really possible, not after the kind of loss you've endured, the kind of loss you didn't want to endure, the kind of loss you never want to endure again.
But you don't suppose you will, because you know past your muscle of a beating heart to the depths of your emotion and feeling that you will never love another woman the way you love Lexie ever again.
What hurts is that you were too late in saying it, and you kick yourself every day for not saying it sooner, for just looking at her when she confessed that she loved you over and over, until Julia showed up and it was time to go.
Julia. The name has become familiar on your lips, you've been dating her for months now. What you hate is that these months spent dating her could've been spent back with Lexie, but you know that's not the way to think or talk. Julia has been nothing but amazing post-crash, always there for you, but moving away at the right times to give you space. She knows you, she reads you like a book. And yet you know she doesn't know you enough, because if she did, she would see that you can't ever let Lexie Grey go.
But you move in with her, with Julia, anyway, because she's your girlfriend and she's serious about you and you're serious about her too. No matter what your feelings are for Lexie, it doesn't mean you're not serious about your feelings for Julia and it doesn't mean that you don't love her. Right, you love her. Julia.
This particular evening you're lying awake and it's well past midnight, the moon casting a healthy glow across the bedroom floor that you now share with someone else again. You can't help but remember what it was like when Lexie moved in—those memories are part of the reason why you were the one moving your things to Julia's and not the other way around. It's too weird to think of her inhabiting the space where Lexie lived.
Insomnia is something you've slowly become used to, because whenever you close your eyes, something about Lexiei always pops into your mind. The way her eyes look when she smiles, her laugh, her dark brown hair. And you can remember how she looked underneath that fragment of plane, how beautiful she looked even when she knew she was dying, the fear in her eyes that was replaced by acceptance, the urgency to tell Meredith that she was a good sister, the happiness in the brief moments where she really knew that you loved her. You can remember your speech too, remember how at first you refused to hold her hand because d*** it she wasn't going to die, and then you were crying because your heart couldn't contain the amount of love you had for her. And then she was gone, and Meredith was sobbing to a hysterical point, and even Cristina was moved to emotion in her own way. That's why you've become an unofficial insomniac; the memories are too much, everything is too much.
Julia is curled up in your side, her left hand on your chest and your right behind your own head, staring up at the ceiling, hopelessly praying for sleep to come. You would think that this added lack of sleep would be horrible for a surgeon, but honestly, surgery is one of the few things that keep you together. You just need something to focus on, something other than the remembrance of Lexie.
You love her so much.
Sometimes when you've been fortunate enough to catch a few minutes of sleep and you're awoken by a dream, Julia resembles Lexie in the few moments where your brain is still slightly groggy. Her features are soft like the brunette's, and sometimes she smiles in the same way. Anyway, in the moonlight, you can pretend for just a second that it's Lexie sleeping next to you. This is how you know she can never be replaced.
The dreams are the worst. You crave sleep as much as you hate it because of these dreams, it's not exactly PTSD but it's something like that. It feels horrific, the cold sweat and the tossing and turning that jolts you awake to an even more awful reality than that which is in your dreams, because this reality doesn't include Lexie at all. You're glad she's not in pain anymore, but does that mean it has to hurt so much on your part?
Julia always wakes up too, rightfully so, and she'll sit up and turn the lights on and ask you what's wrong. You always tell her it's bad dream, and it's gotten to the point where the light will flicker on and she'll ask, "Bad dream?", and you'll nod with your eyes closed. And it's then when she really looks like Lexie, because through the tears threatening to pool out of your eyes your image of her is blurred and yes, she looks so much like Lexie.
She always asks what it was about but you'll just shake your head and say that it was the crash and she'll sit up for a few more minutes until your breathing has settled and then she'll resume her spot beside you, leaving the light on because she thinks that it'll help the nightmares go away. And it does.
Julia is good to you. You love her, just not the way you love Lexie. Maybe she deserves to know this, but you don't know how to say it. It took you so long to tell Lexie you were in love with her—how are you supposed to find the words to say this to Julia?
It's a month later of this partial insomnia, partial nightmares, when you finally think you have worked up the courage to tell Julia about Lexie. Your breaths come out fast and heavy as the broken plane scars your mind, and Julia sits up, turns on the light, and cups your face in her hands.
"Bad dream?" She whispers, and you can see the concern in her eyes, how much this breaks her heart, and how much she loves you.
"Yeah," you manage to say, your voice hoarse before you clear it.
"What was it about?" She asks. It's routine, you know she doesn't expect an answer, already she's laid her head back down against your shoulder, finding your hand and holding it. "Plane crash?"
"Yeah," you repeat, and then you take a deep breath, your chest moving up and down slowly. "Lexie died in the crash." The words come out quick, rushed, like if you wait any longer you won't be able to say it anymore, and so you have to put something out there to keep you going.
"I know," Julia says softly, squeezing your hand. "She was a good girl." And it's ironic that she phrases it like that, because that's exactly what you said to Lexie when you asked her about her injuries.
"Yeah."
"Mark?" Julia says finally, breaking the uninterrupted silence. "What is it?"
You take another deep breath, holding her hand tighter. You want to tell her, you need to tell her, but she can't leave you. You won't be able to take it. "I told her I was in love with her, before she died. I was… I think I had so many hopes and dreams for us. No- I know I did. I planned out our whole life in two minutes, and then, she just… Lexie died, Julia. And I thought you should know."
Julia is silent next to you, and for a second you think her fingers are loosening their hold on yours but you realize that's only your imagination, still vivid from the nightmare you had. You listen to her soft breathing, feel her snuggle her head closer to your neck.
"I did know."
"You did?"
"Yeah," it's her turn to say the word, moving so that she can look up at you if she strains her eyes upward and you strain yours downward. "I'd be crazy not to see it. But Mark, I love you. And so, I saw it, that you loved her. And it's okay, it really is. It's okay to love her. I know you love her, and I don't want you to stop, because it's a part of you, and…" She trails off, presses a single kiss to your cheek. "And yeah, you love her. And that's okay. I know- I know that I'm not her, that you have something… something deeper. But it's okay that you love her. I've accepted it a long time ago, Mark."
You can only nod, too stunned by how lucky you were to have been dating Julia throughout all of this. She was the reason that hindered your relationship with Lexie, but now she just loves you, and she loves you perfectly.
You know she will never be Lexie. It helps that she knows that too, because this makes things a little easier for you. You exhale, feel your chest swell up, feel the stitches tighten, feel your heart heal a little bit more. It's a step-by-step process, and this is a small step.
"Thank you." You kiss her forehead, give her fingers another squeeze, and she gives you a small smile back.
"Now sit tight, I'm going to go get you something to help you sleep." She leaves the bed, padding across the carpeted floor and then out the door and down the hall. You see the kitchen light flicker on and the quiet clinking as she gets you a glass of water.
It wasn't a bad thing, moving in with Julia.
And although you're still unsure if your heart will ever stop hurting, just for tonight it is enough to know that for one brief moment, you knew you loved Lexie and most importantly, she knew you loved her too.