Disclaimer: I don't own anything but a crazy mind. All characters, quotes and lyrics used belong to their rightful owners. C'mon, you should know that by now.

A/N: Okay, so I haven't watched the new episodes of Grey's yet so I'm just going off that five minute preview that was on YouTube. I was supposed to put this out before the new episodes aired but I couldn't figure out the end. There was another scene I was going to add in, but then I'm thinking I might save it for another one-shot. Anyway, I guess there are obvious spoilers in this, but then I'd also want people to ignore whatever happened in 6x01 and 6x02 because I don't know how it panned out. Anyway, let me know what you think! (:

Never underestimate the power of denial. ~ Wes Bently

Amanda asks them if they know about George. At first they frown, not understanding what she is saying. When she tells them what happened, how people were shouting that John Doe is George and how they began running through the hospital, it still doesn't sink in. What was she saying? John Doe is…

And then the realization hits. It's heavy and raw and slams head first into their hearts, knocking the wind out of them.

John Doe is George. George. O'Malley.

She starts running, tearing through the corridors, desperate to find him, to see that of course the woman is lying. She doesn't care that he is running behind her, just as desperate to find out that this isn't true. This isn't George. John Doe isn't George. Not George. It didn't make sense, it wasn't logical, it just didn't make sense, why would they–

Lexie bursts into the room, her head immediately turning to look through the window. Of course she notices everything, the tears that streak Callie's face, Bailey's expression of loss and anguish, the man draped in blue covers, the nurses working methodically around him – Lexie notices all of this, everything shining brightly in front of her, but nothing registers. Because it isn't George.

"Who said that was George?" Lexie demands and she tries to keep her voice steady as she stares at the body in the next room. She swallows nervously, the fear ripping through her as she questions, "W-Why do we think that's George?"

"Meredith…said…" Lexie turns to look at Callie and she tries to hold back her own tears when she sees Callie's. They shouldn't be crying, they shouldn't be doing this because that man in there wasn't George.

Callie sighs and shakes her head in dismay, "I-I don't know…"

At the sound of her voice, so dejected and hurt, Lexie feels a surge of anger flare through her. So, they were giving up? They were just going to accept that this was George? That this was their colleague, their friend?

Lexie stares, her eyes wide and fixated onto the nurse's movements. She watched carefully as they began to strip the bandages from his legs and suddenly she spoke, her voice forceful, "That's not George."

Suddenly it hits her, the power of her realization crashing into her and she leans forward slightly, her eyes not leaving the sight before her. "Look, look at his feet," she says in a rush, her voice breathy as she grasps the situation. That wasn't George. It couldn't be. "Look how tall he is," she says and slowly they turn to look at him, their faces shocked and confused, but Lexie doesn't notice this as she continues to keep her eye on the man they thought was George.

She shakes her head slightly, she knew they were making a mistake, she knew he couldn't be…

"That's not George," she repeats, her voice stronger. Turning she looks at Bailey who was frowning at the scene before her. Lexie leans in slightly and suddenly she is pointing a shaky finger at the window. "That, that man isn't George! His feet…" Her head swings to the side and she stares at Callie, wanting her to see sense. "George wasn't that tall!"

They stand in silence, all watching the nurses' move around the body and Lexie feels her chest constrict with emotion. It wasn't George. He was still alive, he was still here. It is at that moment, she jerks into action, taking a step back only to come crashing into Mark's frame. She looks up at him and he stares down at her, his eyes not revealing any emotion and suddenly Lexie feels anger towards him. She doesn't know why but she hates the fact he looks so withdrawn from the situation. Didn't he believe her?

"That's not George," she repeats and suddenly she grins up at him, ignoring the quick look he shoots to Callie.

Shaking her head, Lexie tries to move around him but a hand stops her. Looking to the side, she frowns at his tense face. When he doesn't say anything, Lexie demands, "What?" She looks back at Bailey who hasn't moved. Her eyes dart to Callie who is still crying.

Why weren't they moving? Why weren't they phoning him? He was still alive!

"Why are you…?" She breaks off and looks up at Mark, her expression showing her confusion. "We have to go tell them! We have to go get George!"

"We can't."

Lexie frowns at Mark's rough voice and she quickly shrugs off his hand. She doesn't notice the hurt that flickers over his face. "That's not George!"

And before they can say anything more, Lexie has already stormed out of the room.

I focus on the pain,
The only thing that's real
~ Trent Reznor.

They were in Izzie's room. They all stood together around her bed, the sorrow encasing them, choking and harsh. She stood outside, simply watching them.

When he approaches her, Lexie doesn't need to turn around as she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not him."

He shuffles forward and touches her arm, though Lexie doesn't feel it. Nothing registers in her mind. "Lex…"

"They shouldn't be crying," she states carefully, her eyes remaining on the scene in front of her. "They, they shouldn't be doing this."

As his arm moves slowly to wrap around her shoulders, Lexie blinks suddenly and looks up at him. "I tried calling him but it goes straight to voicemail."

Mark doesn't say anything; he doesn't need to, so instead he moves closer to her. Lexie turns away to stare into the room, her eyes focused on Izzie, who is gasping for breath, the tears cascading down her pale face. "It's not him."

"They found I.D, Lexie," Mark says in a low voice.

"So?" Lexie demands and she turns to look up at him, the fire raging inside of her again. "That, that doesn't mean–"

"Meredith knows it's him. He…A stranger wouldn't know about what we used to call him, Lexie." He sighs and his eyes flash with pain as he tells her, "Callie identified him. He has a birthmark on his arm and along with his wallet…It's George."

Suddenly, Lexie shoves his arm off her and takes a step back. She glares at him as she shouts, "No! Stop, stop saying that. Stop lying to me!"

His eyes flicker to the room on the side and his eye catches Meredith's but then he turns back to look at Lexie, her eyes shimmering with tears.

"I'm not–"

"Yes, you are!" Lexie shakes her head and her hands shake when she brings them up to her face. "You, you can't do this, you can't lie to me," she says shakily, her face hidden behind her hands. "I-I know that's not George. I know him and, and that's not…that's not…"

"Lexie, please…"

He tries to approach, he tries to offer her a glimmer of reassurance and comfort, but as soon as he touches her, Lexie's arms go flying and she shoves him away. "Get off me! Get, get off me."

Looking around, Lexie is suddenly breathing hard as she takes another step back. "I-I don't need you, I don't…I don't want…"

And then it becomes too much for her, and she finds herself letting out a gasp before she turns on her heel and heads in the other direction, not caring that Mark is shouting after her.

Dear God, lend a hand
Is this really what you planned?
~ Elton John

She finds herself in the church.

The colored glass and flowers contrast with the darkness that encased the room. With her hands resting against the solid wood in front of her, Lexie stares at the large cross in front of her and feels the emotion strain her voice as she speaks.

"I-I haven't been here in a while," she whispers, at first unsure of herself. "After…After my mom…" She breaks off, suddenly feeling stupid, but then she lets go of the wood, allowing her hands to fall into her lap. Looking down at her pale skin, she softly says, "I'm sorry I didn't come more often. I guess you probably hate this, people coming only when they need something, and I'm sorry to ask this, I'm sorry that I'm being selfish but I…I really need you now."

The tears she had refused to shed are suddenly burning her eyes and slowly her restraint chips away, her shoulders shaking as she cries, "I-I need you to let…Let George live. Please. Not just for me, but, but for all of us. We can't do this without him. Meredith...Izzie, they…They need him. They're best friends and you can't do this to them. They don't deserve this."

Suddenly anger flares through her and she bangs her hand against the pew in front of her, the attempt to show her anger weak and pathetic. "This hospital needs him. We can't…He doesn't deserve this."

The tears are still running down her face as she loses her energy and resorts to leaning her forehead against the wood in front of her. Her pleas are barely above her whisper as she mutters, "I-I don't want you to do this. Please. I'll…I'll do anything, I'll be a better person, I'll attend church, I won't curse, I'll do anything, just please God, don't do this to him."

Lexie doesn't hear the door open or the noise of footsteps approaching her. Instead she sighs and slowly looks up at the bronze cross, the figure shining despite the lack of light in the room. Without knowing what she is doing, Lexie clasps her hands together and her eyes are wide and desperate as she begins to beg.

"He is a good person. You know that. You know that he is a good, good person. You know that he doesn't deserve…He…He is a good man so please. Please, you can't do this. Please, please, please don't do this to us."

Lexie pauses as she shuts her eyes and suddenly, she senses that she is not alone but that doesn't stop her from continuing, her voice small and shaky. "You can't take him away from us, not now. You know he doesn't want this. He wants to be here, with us. He had plans, had his life sorted and, and…"

Suddenly, her shoulders begin to tremble and slowly, someone places their arm around her, a weak attempt to stop her from shaking. She doesn't need to open her eyes to know it's him and so Lexie gasps for air as she cries, "You can't keep doing this to me! You, you have my mom, isn't that enough? Isn't that bad enough? Why do you need him too? Why, why do you have to keep taking people away from me?"

With her eyes squeezed shut, her voice raises. "Who's next? Meredith? Mark? Me? Why do you…Why did you have to choose him?"

Her eyes snap open and she glares at the cross, her anger unbridled and she doesn't care that she shouldn't be doing this and it doesn't register in her mind that she is being irrational because at this moment, she feels alive and so she embraces the pain and anger and suddenly, she bangs her hand on the wood and shouts, "Why, why did it have to be him? Couldn't you find someone else? Did it have to be him? Seriously? What, did you have nothing better to do than do this to us? You, you just thought, 'Let's take him today because I have nothing better to do and I like upsetting people and I like making them cry and, and I'm just a, a unfair, inconsiderate b–"

She cuts herself off suddenly as the arm around her tightens and her head snaps to the side to look at him. His eyes are dark and his expression gives nothing away to how he is feeling but Lexie still asks, "Are you okay?"

Mark isn't fazed by the abrupt change in subject and so quietly responds, "Are you okay?"

"I'm angry," she responds instantly. "I'm angry and, and…I don't want to be in here anymore," she says, her voice getting softer. She looks to the side and then back at him, her voice shaky as she murmurs, "I can't be in here."

He nods slowly and leans forward, gently placing a kiss on her forehead. "Okay."

And so he helps her up carefully, his hand firmly gripping hers as he leads her out of the church.

Given a choice between grief and nothing, I'd choose grief. ~ William Faulkner

She is leaning against the wall, her knees brought up against her chest. Staring into space, her eyes unfocused, she barely realizes he is in the room until the door clicks shut and his blue body is in front of her.

"Can I get you anything?"

She doesn't look at him when she answers, "No."

Mark crosses his arms over his chest and looks at her sternly. "Have you eaten?"

"No."

"You should eat."

"I don't want to."

He sighs and drops his arms to his side. "Lexie…"

"I'm not hungry, Mark," she bites, her voice sharp and cutting.

He acts as if he doesn't notice. "You can't do this to yourself."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"This. Not eating, not drinking, not sleeping." He pauses for a moment, not sure if he should say what he is thinking, but then he does it anyway. "Do you really think he would want this?"

She doesn't reply at first but then the sharp voice is back and she snaps, "Shut up."

"Do you think O'Malley wanted you to waste your life away like this?"

"Shut up," she says again, her voice slightly louder, her eyes not looking up at him.

"He would want you to carry on, Lex. He would tell you to move on."

"Shut up!" She shouts and she looks up at him, her eyes burning into him. "Don't; just don't talk like you know what he would want! You don't know!"

"You really think you're the only one feeling like this?" Mark asks, his voice matching hers. "We all miss him, Lexie, but we're getting on with it because that's what you do. When someone dies, you accept it and get on with your life."

Lexie shakes her head, "You didn't even like him. You hated him."

"I respected him, I respected his work," Mark replies, just as angrily. "I may not have liked what he did, what he did to Torres or to you but I respected him." Mark shakes his head and sighs, his frustration clear. "I don't know what everyone saw in him, why you…I don't know. But I respected his work. I didn't hate him. You have to see it, Lex. Everyone misses him but we're carrying on because there is nothing we can do. We can't bring him back."

Silence falls between them and it takes her a moment but soon enough, Lexie looks up at Mark and she wants to accept it, she knows secretly that he is right, but the pain is too new and she can't get past it.

And so instead of asking for a hug or asking him to stay with her, Lexie looks away and stares at the wall blankly as she says, "You can leave now."

If you're going through hell, keep going. ~ Winston Churchill

She comes back late at night while he is watching TV. He looks up and notices her red eyes and nose. Although he wants to comfort her, he restrains himself. It was obvious she wasn't ready yet. He wonders if she will ever be ready.

As she raises a hand to her face, wiping her tired eyes, Mark's eyes narrow.

"What happened?" He asks referring to the redness of her knuckles, the bright red marks that tainted her usually perfect skin.

She doesn't need to look down at her hand. Instead she turns away, heading towards the bathroom. She doesn't turn around as her mono-tone voice answers, "Nothing."

Time is a physician that heals every grief. ~ Diphilus

It has been a month since George died.

A month of sorrow, regret, denial, anger.

They have experienced it all, everything that you should theoretically feel during the process of grief, but somehow, neither of them feel any better.

Lexie still blames everyone for not trying harder, not searching harder, for not looking for him sooner, for not convincing him to stay with them.

She blames herself for not being right, she blames herself for not talking to him, for not forgiving him, for not telling him that she is sorry for leaving him alone. She blames God for taking another person from her, and she blames George for being heroic. She blames everyone, and everything, because that is all she can do.

Mark still doesn't know what to do. Derek has only offered him little help over the situation, still preoccupied with his own issues, and yet this time, Mark feels no resentment towards the other man, because this time he was going to solve this. He was going to be there for her and he was going to pull her through this, whether she liked it or not, because he was stronger now. He had grown and he could be there for her.

She just needed to realize it.

We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey. – Kenji Miyazawa

She gets back later than him. Mark has just left the shower, and is standing in the middle of the room in only his boxers when the door slams open and shut and Lexie is suddenly in the room. He watches as she drops her bag on the floor and her jacket is thrown carelessly to the side. Her eyes are focused on him, determined and hard as she storms up to him and without a word her hands come up to frame his face and her lips come crashing down on his.

It is raw and forceful and anything but caring, though at this moment Lexie doesn't care. She just wants him, she wants to forget about the stab of fear she felt at seeing another resident with Dr. Hunt today – everyone kept talking about his potential of becoming an excellent trauma surgeon, and she knows she is being irrational but that was George's job, George was the next best trauma surgeon, not this man. He wasn't George but he was trying to replace him and Lexie doesn't know what to do about it, and so here she was, in the middle of the hotel room, gripping onto Mark for dear life.

When he breaks the kiss, Lexie shakes her head and brings her mouth to his cheek before she drags her lips downwards, not caring about the stubble that pricked her. It made her feel alive and so she continued to run her lips over him until she met his collarbone.

"Lex," he rasps out, his hands firmly gripping her upper arms.

He doesn't say more because she suddenly bites his skin and Mark inhales sharply.

When she pulls away and looks up at him, her eyes wide and glassy, he can't speak. When she yanks off her shirt, he is torn between pulling her towards him and shoving her away. When she unbuttons her jeans, he notices her shaking hands and wants to say something comforting, something to stop her, but then she is standing in front of him, merely clad in her bra and underwear and the sight takes his breath away.

Neither say anything as she walks up to him, her hands gently roaming over his back as she places soft kisses against his chest. Her hand snakes its way down to his boxers and it is then that Mark finds his voice.

"You don't need this."

She wants to tell him that he doesn't know what she needs, that this is in fact all she ever wanted and that this, being with him, will solve all her problems. But the words are gripping her, stuck in her throat, suffocating and tight and so all Lexie can do is stare at him, hoping he realizes that she needs this because Mark is alive and being here, surrounded by him, will make her feel alive for a moment, too.

And that's all she wants.

And so, Lexie shakes her head slightly and pulls away from him.

Her bra hits the floor.

Followed by her underwear.

No words are spoken as she drags him to his bed and willingly lies down, her eyes falling close as she feels him touch her. It is gentle and slow and Lexie feels the emotion choke her.

Afterwards, she doesn't open her eyes as they lay together. His fingers stroke her cheek and Lexie finds herself wanting to tell him that she loves him but the words are stuck in her throat. Instead she says, "I let him down."

His movements continue as he says, "You didn't."

Keeping her eyes shut, her hand comes up to rest on top of his as she whispers, "I never told him I'm sorry. I never told him that I didn't care that he never loved me back and that I still want to be his friend. I didn't tell him anything. I just…" She swallows and her voice cracks slightly as she says, "I ignored him when it mattered."

He moves closer to her and wraps his arms around her. When she leans her face against his chest, Mark feels his heart swell and he gathers up courage to speak. "You were hurt. You acted in the way you thought best, Lex. Don't blame yourself."

"But I do."

Her voice is soft and broken and suddenly Mark can feel her tears against his skin. He does nothing besides squeeze her tighter.

"I should have done more," she whispers as she closes her eyes. "I, I should have let him in. But I was too jaded and immature and I want to take it back. I take it back, I take it all back because I, I miss him so much. I miss him so, so much. And, and I should have told him. I, I want him to know that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"He knows," Mark whispers as he moves so that he can gently stroke her hair. Threading his fingers through the strands of silk, he closes his eyes and murmurs, "He knows, Lex. It's okay. You have to believe that. It's okay now. Everything is going to be okay."

And it is then that the tears stop, and the pain lifts, and Lexie lets out a breath as the realization hits.

"George died."

Holding onto the pain may make you feel alive, but it is no way to live. Sometimes, letting go, accepting the truth and embracing it, is the only way to live. It is the only way you know that in the end, you know how to survive.
~ Anonymous