So, this kind of story is so far out of my comfort zone that I have no idea what I'm doing.
But after the premiere, and the severe lack of anyone mentioning Lexie (twice really didn't seem sufficient) and the absence of some sort of vague, ghostly Mark and Lexie reunion, I felt the need to write it.
oOo
He could hear her, somewhere, in the distance.
He knew she was there, he could sense her presence acutely – it was something he'd always been able to do. The moment she was near he could feel it.
It was as if she was right there, the whole time, but he couldn't see her, and he was so, so close…
"Mark."
It was Callie, he realised, as she began to speak about how hot the room was, and taking her shirt off.
But he couldn't even register it, because he could hear her, somewhere, and he was sure he could get to her, if he tried hard enough.
oOo
He is actually able to make out the words she's saying, after Richard starts talking about ventilators and his directive.
"Mark."
It's so unmistakably her, the way she says his name, that he's desperately trying to see her, but he can't, and it's so unbelievably frustrating to be able to hear her and not see her.
"Mark, it's not your time yet," she says softly, as he tries and fails to find her.
He laughs humourlessly in response, because it's really the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.
"It's not my time, but you were meant to die at twenty seven under a hunk of metal."
He rolls his eyes.
"What about Sofia?" She asks, and he winces. "She needs a father; she needs you."
He pauses momentarily, because the thought makes his heart clench, and he doesn't want to think about it while it's getting increasingly harder to breathe.
He's never felt so torn in his life.
"Sofia has Callie, and Arizona. Sofia will be okay," he says, trying desperately to believe it, as the pain in his chest gets worse, and he can almost, almost see her.
"What about you?" He asks, making an attempt at reaching for her but coming up short.
"What about me?" She returns, her voice still the same as he remembers it, innocent and pure, as if she still believes in the good in the world.
"You don't have anyone," he notes.
He can't see her, but he can feel her smile, and the pain in his chest increases exponentially with the realisation that he can't see it.
"I do," she says, and he doesn't know whether she's referring to her mom, or someone else entirely.
"It's okay, Mark," she whispers, and he can feel her disappearing slowly, and no, dammit, this isn't what he wants.
Then the pain is getting worse, but she's there, her presence is so much stronger, and he's even closer to seeing her than before.
"I'm okay, Mark," she assures him, but it's as if he has no control over it anymore – he's not sure he ever did – but she's coming into focus.
"I love you," she says, and he can hear her now, almost perfectly.
"I love you too," he returns, as everything comes into focus, and a smile spreads across his face at the sight.
"Lexie."