AN: Shout outs to awesome Cadaverous Apples and IGottaFindYou and lizzie-tish, whose careful reading and thoughtful feedback makes me smile consistently. =) Thank you, guys!

Standard disclaimers apply and, despite due diligence, the inevitable mistakes are my fault.

Remembrance

Chapter Nine: Blank Slates

It took a good, long minute for her to realize the importance of oxygen. Finding her way back to the pillowcase, she rested on her stomach, her face turned to look at him. They focused on breathing for a while longer, laughing when they caught each other's eye, but still unable to vocalize anything coherent.

Then, swallowing her dry throat, she managed to get out, "Do people know about this?"

He laughed, reaching over to trace the curve of her back, his fingers picking up the thin film of sweat lining her bare skin. "About sex? Yeah, I think word's out."

"No, not just sex. Sex."

He grinned, letting the bedsheet settle around their hips. "So I take it it was good for you?"

"So good we should name it."

The crack of laughter that left his chest was so sudden, she was startled for a moment before joining him.

"We could name it Billy Cooper," he offered, chuckling up to the ceiling.

The suggestion was so ridiculous, her body shook with laughter. When she lifted her head to breathe, a snort escaped her. His head whipped toward her at the sound. They both froze for a moment before she buried her head into the pillow and he began laughing all over again.

"What was that?"

"Shut up," she said from the pillowcase, reaching out a blind hand to slap him.

"Okay, Wilbur."

"I hate you," she groaned, but glowering was impossible. He caught her combative hands easily and pulled her closer.

"If I kiss you, will you do it again?"

She shoved him, but he kissed her anyway. Her legs found his and twined against them, her feet stopping somewhere around his calves.

"You're little," he said.

"Am I?" she asked, her voice drowsy as she rubbed her nose against his chest.

"Yes," he affirmed. "Like a piglet."

She stopped nuzzling and pulled back to look at him. "Shut up."

Wrapping his arms around her, he drew her closer, his torso rumbling with his laughter. When the sounds died down, she breathed him in and said, "It feels good to laugh."

He nodded above her and she felt the movement against her hair. "I know."

"I was kind of afraid before," she said, her voice small.

His arms tightened. "Of what?"

"Afraid of being someone different, someone you didn't even like, but still felt obligated to."

He sighed. "You can't keep stressing yourself out about remembering."

"I know, you're right." She bit her lip. "But…"

"It's frustrating," he supplied.

"Yes."

"Because you want to remember."

"Because I want you to have your girlfriend back."

His arms slid away from her and she blinked up at him in confusion. Cheek against his pillow, he met her eyes. "I have her," he said.

"You know what I mean," she argued, her voice weary. "It isn't the same."

"You're right," he said. "But different isn't bad." Her brow furrowed and he continued. "You remember the fight we had? After Addison?" She nodded and he did as well, the line of his mouth grim. "Then you know that we didn't always communicate very well." Again she nodded. "So this time around we communicate. We'll figure it out."

"Figure it out," she echoed.

"Together."

She still looked doubtful and he exhaled. "Lexie," he said carefully. "I don't care if you ever remember."

That got her attention. Her brown eyes snapped to his, so wide they seemed to swallow her face. He muffled a groan. Those eyes nearly killed him. There wasn't a sucker born every minute, there was just him around Lexie and her damn eyes.

"You don't?" she asked. She sucked in a shaky breath.

"No. You're still here and that's what I'm grateful for. So you don't remember." His shoulders lifted in an eloquent shrug. "So what? Shit happens. I'll try not to remember too and we can go from there."

She smiled. "You're sweet to say that—to try, but—"

"But nothing," he interrupted. "We can't do anything about the past anyway, Lexie. It's done." Here his face turned insistent, fierce even. "So leave it alone."

Fine brows arching, she looked confused. "But—"

"No," he repeated, leaning forward to give her a hard kiss. "No more talking." His fingers gripped the thin material of the sheet between them and pulled it away, bringing their bodies closer. He sat up, bringing her with him.

His lips found her throat and she knew there had been something else she meant to ask, but it lost all relevance when his tongue met her skin.

"This is it," he whispered against her temple sometime later when she moved above him, his warm hands gripping her hips to steady her tempo. "Just you, me and a chance at something special."

Something special, she repeated to herself, savoring the words. There was a magical quality to them, they spoke of promise and made the unknown suddenly surmountable.

So she remained quiet, her acquiescence in her kiss before she cradled his head to her neck, her head tilting to the side and spilling a curtain of dark hair over both of them.

******

"Have I ever met your parents?" she asked much later, when the first rays of dawn tried to filter through through the blinds of the bay windows.

His hands stilled over her hair for a moment before resuming their long, easy strokes. "Not yet."

"Why not?" The question was blunt, but there was a trace of uncertainty behind it.

He was quick to reassure her. "They're busy," he said. "We're not especially close."

"But they know about me?"

He smiled. "Yes."

"I'm sorry," she said then.

"For what?"

"You said you're not close to your parents."

"Oh." He pressed an idle kiss to her temple. In moments like this, when Lexie was Lexie, it was easy to forget she didn't know all she had known before. She'd have to rediscover it, which, he realized, was fine with him. Preferable even.

Every time Lexie looked at him, it was with a tentative apology for not yet remembering. While she was regretful, he was grateful. While she looked at him hoping to remember, he was wary one day she would.

At that thought, his fingers stilled over the cloud of her hair and he kissed her soundly, as if to reassure him she was still there.

"It's not a big deal."

"Have I said that before?"

"About my parents?" he asked. When she nodded, he confirmed.

She sighed. "It must be annoying, having conversations with me you've already had."

He disagreed, shaking his head. "No. It's like a do-over."

They were quiet for a moment while she digested that. "Mark?" she asked in the dimness of the room.

He muffled a yawn. "Hmm?"

"Has my father called at all? About me, I mean?"

The timid quality in her voice made him alert. He wished he could lie to her so he could see her shoulders straighten with the knowledge of her own worth.

"No," he said quietly.

"Oh." She nodded. "I—I have a sister, right? I mean besides Meredith?"

"Molly. I called her after your accident. She knows you're fine; she said she'd try to arrange a visit later."

"Oh, that's nice of her."

It wasn't especially so and they both knew it, but instead he said, "Your niece, Laura, she's a handful; it's hard for Molly to get away. But she loves you."

Lexie nodded against him. "Yes. Of course." She paused. "So you've met her."

He murmured his affirmation.

"Is she nice?"

"Sure."

"Does…does she like me?"

The hesitance in her voice caused him to open his eyes. "Is that what's worrying you?"

"No. Well, yes. It's just that…" She exhaled before continuing. "Well, my mother's dead, my father's out of the picture and one of my sisters is too far away while the other is always reminding me we're not close."

"Meredith," he began, "is…difficult." She couldn't help but smile at his twisted features as he searched for an appropriate word. "She cares but doesn't want people—especially herself—knowing she cares."

She was quiet and he added, "Besides, Derek told me you two seemed fine tonight."

She groaned at the reminder of her diatribe on Meredith's living room floor. "I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm an idiot now."

Mark laughed. "You and Meredith will get there. Give it time."

Lexie didn't want to talk about it anymore. She shrugged. "It's fine, I should shut up anyway. You're not close to your family either."

"I didn't say that."

Her brow furrowed. "But you—"

"I'm close to you," he said, kissing her nose. "And you're my family."

Perhaps she should have smiled at his words, at the poignancy in their simplicity. Instead she found herself entirely serious. "Does that mean you're my family?"

"I was," he said. "I could be again. If you'll let me."

While they spoke, the rising sun broke through the gray of the room, bathing them and their bed in yellow heat. Warm and content, it was far too easy to close her eyes, secure in the fact that she wouldn't be alone when she opened them.

"It must have been so easy to fall in love with you," she said around a long sigh, her breathing evening as she slept.

AN: Please review!