AN: So this chapter is a lot darker than the others. Content warning for physical abuse and violence.
Getting out of her car Lexie can't help but feel better than she's felt in weeks. For the first time it feels almost like the Mark she knows is back. Although it's a long road back to where they were, tonight was the first night in a year she felt like they had an actual shot at making this all work. Not even Thatcher's drinking could ruin her mood tonight.
Before Lexie even opened the door to her house she heard a crash. Bracing herself, she carefully unlocked the door to her house. Mentally she calculated the distance between here and her room, trying to figure out how she could make it inside without gaining Thatcher's attention.
She barely makes it across the threshold before she's ducking and avoiding something flying at her head. "Get out of my house!" Thatcher screams, charging at Lexie. Thatcher isn't a large man, but he's just big enough to slam Lexie against the wall. Dropping her purse in shock she tries to shove him off of her.
"Dad stop!" Lexie screams, feeling his hands on her throat. Her vocal cords constrict as his hands tighten. Desperately trying to get him off her as she feels her airways struggle to get enough oxygen and her body panics. Swinging her arms at her father Lexie tries to free herself. From this angle Thatcher has a hold on her that she can't break. Her legs kick out at him but she can't lift both up without losing the bit of ground she has and she doesn't think that she's strong enough to get him off of her.
Suddenly his arms move and she feels her body forcibly moved. Thatcher practically roars back at her. "Just leave! That's all you ungrateful bitches do is leave!" He screams shoving her against the wall again. Lexie feels her head hit the wall, stars suddenly begin swimming in her vision, and it takes every ounce of strength she has in her to not drop to the ground. Every muscle in her body hurts, and she's never been more terrified in her life.
Struggling against him, Lexie remembers something she saw on tv about swiping your leg. In pure desperation she tries to swipe at his leg to knock him offer. He's drunk enough to where the movement, even if not technically correct throws him off balance. When his leg goes his hands come off her and she's able to shove him the rest of the way away. Without a moment's hesitation Lexie runs out the door. She doesn't notice until she's out of the house that she doesn't have her keys or her purse. Lexie can't go back inside.
"Please have left your phone in your pocket." She mumbles frantically to herself. Her head's spinning and she's trying to focus but her pockets come up empty. Sitting down against the garage door where she knows Thatcher can't see her, she wraps her arms around her knees.
That's when she feels it.
Her pager.
The hospital made them all use these pagers with keyboards so they could respond to pages quicker, and she'd learned to never take it off. Even on her days off she left the pager on her belt loop. Shakily her hands reach down.
Lexie tries to remember a phone number, any phone number. Her head throbs as she tries to remember. "You have a photographic memory. Remember a phone number." She says running her hand across her forehead. Suddenly a number pops into her head. The same number that she'd memorized calling from the crappy phone in her dorm at Harvard, the one that for years popped up on her phone to tell her he was coming home for dinner, to ask if she wanted to blow off responsibilities and eat pizza in bed.
Mark.
Punching in the number with trembling hands she sends a 911 page with the address. She has just enough characters to get in the L in her name and send it off. Leaning her head back against the garage she focuses on trying to stay conscious. "He'll come." she mumbles to herself. "He'll come." She repeats.
She doesn't know how long she sits there, focusing on just staying awake.
Meanwhile across town, Mark sets down his jacket on the chair and barely sits down before he hears his pager go off. For half a second he debates ignoring it, but he knows better. Reading the words scrolling across the screen Mark's heart stopped. 911 - 431 Meadowridge Dr - L. He knows he knows that address.
"What the hell is L?" He asks out loud. Repeating the message he realizes why he knows that address.
Lexie.
Jumping up he grabs his keys and sprints out of the room towards his car. Dialing his phone as he runs down the stairs he repeats the mantra in his mind. "Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up."
She doesn't answer.
Heart-racing Mark finally reaches his car. Plugging in the address he speeds down the streets. Coming to a red light, he takes a look both ways to check for cops and other cars. When he sees none he takes off through the intersection. Dialing her phone again, he goes straight to voicemail. When he turns into her neighborhood he recognizes the streets, they'd come to visit enough times for enough holidays that he knows where he's going.
Pulling into the driveway, the lights from his car shine on her as she lifts her head up to look at him. Throwing the car into park and shutting it off he practically flings himself out of the car.
"Lex - what happened?" He asks kneeling in front of her. Even in the dark he can see the bruises on her neck.
"I'm sorry… I didn't… I couldn't remember any other numbers… My phone's inside and I couldn't… Your number was the only one..." She bursts into tears and his hand instinctually goes to her hair.
Making sure he's completely in front of her so that she can see him, he knows he needs to coax her off the ground and figure out what she's done. "I don't care. You can call me, page me, whenever. Can you tell me what happened?" He wants to get her off the ground and away from the house.
"I came home, he grabbed me, and he slammed me against the wall a couple of times. My head hurts, I-I-I think I hit it on the door frame or the wall and my throat, it's kind of hard to breathe and swallow." Lexie says and Mark's begins mentally triaging her.
"Lex can you stand up on your own?" He asks and she shakes her head. She's honestly not sure that if she tried to stand up she wouldn't pass out or fall over. "Okay, I'm going to lift you up and put you in the car. Tell me if it's too much pain." He carefully slides his hands under her back and legs as he lifts her with ease. Desperately, he tries not to notice how light she feels or how she groans when he lifts her up.
Gingerly, he places her in the front seat of his car and slides the buckle over her. "It's going to be okay." He promises, backing out of the driveway and heading towards the hospital.
"It's going to be okay." He repeats again.
AN: I know I know, but you didn't think this was going to stay happy the whole time did you? Let me know what you thought!
