Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my writing.

Note: I was extremely torn about the eventual outcome of this chapter, and I know what I've decided might leave a lot of readers at odds with my decision. However, I think it's important to stay true to my original vision for this story, and for that I make no apologies. Please rate and review, as always! Thanks to all of you for your continued support.

Chapter 6:

Her shirt is untucked.

She isn't sure why this seems important, but it does. She takes a moment to fix it before hurrying up to the man she loves and saying the words she's been thinking all day.

"Yes,the odds are against us." She's been giving a lot of thought to their odds lately, and they terrify her. She's twenty-five, a third-year resident barely beginning her training. He's a gorgeous Plastics attending who's closer to her father in age than to her. To make matters worse, he is known around the hospital for his penis, which had been bad enough before she accidentally broke it. To put it frankly, he is a sexual genius. Besides a few high school flings, one kind-of relationship in college and her weird thing with Alex Karev, she's clueless. For all intents and purposes, he has no reason to want her in a serious relationship, nor she him. And yet, for whatever reason, she is absolutely, one hundred percent unwilling to give up on this.

"I'm a one-woman wrecking ball." She blurts, wondering too late just how honest she should be. But at this point her mouth has outrun her mind and she finds herself giving voice to all the concerns that have bothered her for weeks. "All I do is break you- your hand, your penis, your relationships, your life." He's staring at her now with a bemused expression, and she suddenly regrets mentioning his famously talented penis in broad daylight. Blushing, she rushes on before thoughts of his anatomy can distract her any further. "I'd say our survival rate is about 3 percent." She'd calculated it earlier, using a formula of her own invention that probably didn't even work, but the depressingly low results had seemed accurate enough to her. "And that's- that's bad. But it's not nothing, and-" She's stumbling over her words, the way she always does when she's flustered. "And I don't think that we should give up on this, at least not yet, because-" Suddenly there is a finger on her lips. Just his touch sends a current through her entire body. "Okay." She surrenders, abandoning the rest of her speech to stare into his eyes. When he looks at her like this, she knows he's really hearing her.

"You think you broke me, Little Grey?" He gives her his best smile, his real one. "You're the one who put me back together." She feels warmth spread through her as his words take hold and banish her fears. She is untouchable. Mark Sloan loves her, she knows that now. Despite their flaws and their odds, he is choosing her.

He might not realize it, but he too has taken someone jumbled and broken and, for the first time in her life, made her feel truly whole.

…

When Lexie was eight years old, her family cat Rufus passed away. She remembered taking the loss pretty hard, since death was a foreign concept to her at the time and, despite Rufus's stony cat attitude, she had convinced herself that she and him had felt a very strong bond. After weeks of tears and grief that showed no signs of letting up, her parents decided together to take Lexie to see a therapist.

Lexie remembered every detail about his office. The walls were a muted yellow, and an ugly strip of wallpaper displaying colourful cartoon fish wound its way around the room. There had been a special corner, made noticeable by the foam puzzle pieces on the floor, which held toys. The novelty of having an entire space just for playing was extremely appealing to Lexie, who grew up in a modest house with no real playroom. On the opposite end of the room sat a very adult-looking wooden desk and two comfy chairs. It was in the left-hand chair, nestled between two bright red cushions, that Lexie had spent most of her time. The therapist himself, despite Lexie's best attempts to hate him, won her over during their first appointment with a very convincing impression of Sebastian from the Little Mermaid. After that they were fast friends, and Lexie ended up "mourning" her cat for much longer than she needed to just so she could go see the therapist for a few extra weeks.

It was Rufus she was thinking of as she fidgeted in front of the serious-looking man who would determine when she could begin operating again.

She had suffered through two weeks of daily appointments with Dr. Perkins, the same therapist who had seen her through the shooting. While she was honoured that he had come all the way from Germany just so she could talk about her feelings, she was becoming exhausted by the constant questions and scrutiny. How many times did he need her to recount her days in the forest? In how many different ways did she have to word Meredith's last moments?

Of course, there were also the things that she refused to speak about. The fact that Cristina had basically left her for dead out there, for example. Or the real pain she felt when Derek disappeared to L.A. to treat his hand, saddling her with more responsibility than she could ever have bargained for. Or the nausea that hit her every time she walked past Mark's room and heard the monitors beeping to the pulse of his heart. These, she knew, were the gritty details that Dr. Perkins was hoping to wheedle out of her. He was smart about it, too, but Lexie was smarter. She had no shortage of negative feelings and experiences to draw from, and she knew that Dr. Perkins was wholly convinced that they'd made some definite progress. Today she was hoping to seal the deal.

"How are you feeling today?" Dr. Perkins was careful to look her directly in the eye as he asked the question, which Lexie supposed was meant to feel comforting. Instead, it only increased her feeling of agitation and made it much harder for her to lie. Lexie searched for an acceptable answer, one that might afford her a bit more control over her own life again. She'd survived a plane crash, and she knew that she still had emotional wounds, but more than anything she just wanted to leave "plane crash" behind and get to the "surviving" part.

"Grateful." Lexie was surprised when the word came to her easily. It wasn't a complete answer, not really, because she was also furious about the things she'd lost. But she figured that being grateful spoke to being accepting, and Dr. Perkins was all about accepting the past in order to move on from it. She wasn't at all surprised when the therapist offered her a smile.

"That's very good. It shows how much progress you've made." You bet it has. In earlier sessions, Lexie had been careful to demonstrate pieces of her anger and frustration, enough to make her recovery believable. She knew that the Chief wouldn't clear her for surgery unless she was able to prove that she was healing, so she faked it as best as she could. A tiny voice in the back of her head wondered often if it might be in her best interest to just be honest about her feelings, but Lexie was always quick to shove the idea away. The only person who had any right to what had happened in those woods was her, regardless of what Chief Hunt or anyone else might think.

"Dr. Perkins, I'm physically healthy," Lexie began carefully, measuring every word, "and I know that I still have a lot of healing to do emotionally, but I am feeling much better." Minus the nightmares, and the constant whispers behind my back, and the lack of communication with most of people who I used to call my friends. "I believe that I'm ready to go back to work." Please agree, please agree, please agree…

"I agree." Lexie fought the urge to punch her fist in the air. She'd done it! She was free! "So long as you book an appointment with me once every two weeks for the next six months, and you're careful to avoid the triggers that might…" Lexie nodded impatiently, watching his mouth move without really listening to the words. She couldn't wait to go tell Mark! "...I think you'll do just fine. I'll let Dr. Hunt know myself." Lexie jumped out of her chair, remembering at the last minute to shake the doctor's hand before sweeping triumphantly out of the room, the signed paper clearing her for surgery clutched close to her chest.

It was a stroke of luck that Mark was awake when she pushed into his room. He'd been sleeping more and more lately, which worried Lexie to no end, but he assured her that he was feeling much better. She was able, if she tried hard enough, to write his exhaustion off as a symptom that, like the others, he would eventually recover from.

"Mark, I did it! I'm cleared!" This time, she really did punch her fist in the air before coming over to sit on the edge of Mark's bed.

"That's amazing, Lex!" Mark was smiling, but Lexie sensed that it wasn't genuine. There was something off about his eyes as he glanced at the paper in her hand.

"What's wrong?" Lexie frowned. "Why do you not seem happy about this?" Mark stared at her for a long second without saying anything. She'd seen him give the same look to patients when he was about to deliver bad news.

"Well, are you really ready to go back?" Lexie realized all too quickly that, difficult as it had been to evade her therapist, attempting to do the same with Mark would be virtually impossible. Lexie sighed, looking away.

"I don't know, Mark. I just- I just want to leave this all behind, and I can't do that unless I'm allowed to operate. The rest of it will work itself out." Mark gave her a look that was a little too pointed, and she found herself leaning in to kiss him just to get it off his face. One kiss inevitably led to another, and Lexie forced herself to pull away even as her entire body buzzed with the need to be close to him. He opened his mouth to protest, but Lexie put a finger to his lips.

"Let me lock the door." Her sly grin was enough to make him laugh, but as she drew the curtains on the door it deteriorated into a hacking cough. She turned abruptly. "Mark, are you alright? We don't- I mean, we don't need to do this." This wasn't the first time that they'd locked the door of his room, but most days all they ended up doing was laying beside each other on the bed. This was the first occasion that spoke of something more, and as much as Lexie missed the- why not just call it what it is- sex, her top priority was Mark's health, always. Since the crash he just hadn't been up to it, and his cough reminded Lexie all too suddenly that Mark was still very, very sick.

"No." Mark's voice was steady after his coughs died down. "I'm having a good day and I know exactly how I want to spend it." Lexie's mind was at war; a part of her worried that he was only pushing herself for her sake, while the other part was simply desperate for a piece of her old life back. A piece of him back. And then, the ugly voice in her head spoke up, playing its trump card. Who knows what could happen? Who knows if he'll ever get better? It was that thought that tipped the scales and allowed her to banish her guilt.

"Me too." Lexie double, triple-checked the lock on the door before pulling her shirt up over her head.

...

As she hurried down the hospital corridor, Lexie noticed that her shirt was untucked. She tucked it hurriedly back into place as she made her way to the cafeteria, resolving to stop for a quick bite to eat before saying her goodbyes to Mark and picking up her charge at the daycare.

As she passed the nurses' station, Lexie caught the name "Sloan". In spite of herself, she stopped, loitering a ways away where she could listen to the conversation without looking odd.

"That's right, in his hospital bed! Can you believe it?"

"Old habits die hard, I suppose. He's still Sloan, after all." Lexie felt herself blush beet-red as she realized what the nurses were talking about. They had tried their best to keep it down, but neither of them had done it for a long time. She supposed that Mark and Julia had probably slept together before the crash, but she didn't much like to think about that. He had broken it off with her the instant he could sit up in his bed, anyway.

"Well, he had better have his fun now. His stats are lower every day." Lexie stiffened. Sure, it was true that Mark had been having some bad days, but no one had told her that he was steadily getting worse. Dr. Webber was on his case; had he been lying to her?

"Seems to me like the surge happened today. That can only mean that it's downhill from here."

"It's a pity. He really cleaned up his act in the months before the accident." There was a silence that ran long enough for Lexie to wonder if the nurses had moved on.

"Any idea what his health care directive is like?" Lexie had begun to walk away, but now she stopped again.

"Yeah. He's given himself thirty days." Thirty days? Lexie turned on her heel and ran back to Mark's room.

This time, he was asleep. Lexie was terrified to see that he already looked worse than he had in the morning; his blood pressure had dropped and there was a greyish pallor to his skin. Unable to help herself, she shook him awake.

"Did you elect to withdraw care after thirty days?" At first, Mark's face was groggy with sleep, but the understanding dawned on him slowly after she repeated her question. Mark didn't answer, which was answer enough.

"And you've been lying to me about your health." This wasn't a question. Lexie's eyes were brimming with tears and accusations, and she shook with anger. "How could you do that to me? Why would you let me believe that you were okay when you know you're getting worse?"

"I…" Mark shook his head. "I'm sorry." Lexie's anger boiled over and she took a controlled step backwards, balling her hands into fists.

"What if you die, Mark? What if you die! I'm alone, I've got no one, you're all that I have!" Lexie started to cry, oblivious to the stricken look on Mark's face. "Derek's left, and Meredith is dead and Cristina won't even look at me. My father has started drinking again since the crash, Molly is a world away and my mother was gone a long time ago!" She knew she was being unfair, that he'd only been trying to protect her, but in that instant she hated him for it. "You can't put me back together and then die, Mark Sloan. You can't." He opened his mouth to say something, but she wasn't finished. "No more secrets, understand?" Mark nodded, his face a mask of guilt and resignation. Lexie felt some relief, knowing that from now on she wouldn't be lied to. Whether she could handle the truth was another story.

He's not going to die, she told herself firmly. He's still very much alive.

"I love you." Lexie blurted suddenly. Her anger was draining away, replaced by a horrible fear.

"I love you too." Mark gave her his perfect smile, the one that made her feel unstoppable. Lexie might have gotten lost in it if her pager hadn't beeped, reminding her of the time.

"Shoot, I'm late for Zola!" Lexie shoved her pager into a pocket. "I'll see you tomorrow!" She caught a glimpse of Mark waving goodbye before she was running again, this time to the daycare.

"I'm sorry," she panted, leaning against the doorframe as a woman she knew only vaguely came out with Zola. The woman said nothing as Lexie lifted Zola into her arms, but Lexie could hear her muttering in disapproval as she walked away.

"Come on, Zo. Let's go home." She piled her niece into her car, strapping her into a car seat that she could finally negotiate without trouble, and drove the two of them back to Derek's house.

Unlocking the door, Lexie was immediately aware, like she was every night, of how huge and empty the house was. She could picture Derek's note perfectly, her photographic memory conjuring up every line in her mind. He didn't even tell her in person. All she got was a page to the daycare, and that damned note.

Lexie,

Nothing is the way it was before. I don't know how to live my life without her in it. I have to get away, so I'm going to L.A. for a few weeks. A doctor here thinks he might be able to fix my hand. It's terrible that I should ask this of you, but you are listed as Zola's legal guardian if anything should happen to me or Meredith. I'm asking you, please look after her while I'm gone. I'm so sorry to have to do this, but you're the only person I trust enough with my daughter. She has no one else and I can't be a father to her in the condition I'm in.

You're welcome to stay in the house. It might be better for Zola that way. I'll call soon.

Derek

For the first couple of days after the crash, Lexie was a robot. Her reaction to Derek's letter was almost mechanical. She'd looked after Zola before, once for a whole weekend while Derek and Meredith were out of town, so for a while, when she was still in shock, it only seemed natural. After about a week, Lexie had realized what a terribly irresponsible thing Derek had done, but it had surprised her to find that she couldn't be angry with him. When Derek was afraid, he ran. It was a part of who he was, and it would never change. If Derek needed time away to recover, Lexie had decided that she could give it to him.

Besides, having Zola with her in the evenings calmed Lexie down, and sleeping with her eased the nightmares. So Lexie had simply developed a new routine, one that included her niece. It would be more difficult now that she was able to operate again, but she was sure she'd find a way to make everything work. She felt as if she owed that to her sister.

That evening, Lexie went to bed early, curling up with Zola on the bed.

As she fell asleep, Mark Sloan fell into a coma.

For the first time since the crash, Lexie slept through the night.