Dedications to my Reviewers:

Charlie, who agrees that I rock.

emsoreoangel, who has a wide vocabulary.

fictionlover26, who tried to guess the storyline.

daisyduke95, who is bright and shiny in their reviews.

Alece, who didn't see it coming.

jlamb13, who likes that the spark is still there.

McShip, who is McBaby-Lovin.

AiLing, who is a dramaholic.

Silver1989, who really gets into the story.

---------

"Mark!" you shout, jogging up to him, with short breath and high blood pressure. "Mark," you pant, stopping.

"Lexie, are you okay? You really need to be taking it easy." he puts a hand on your shoulder.

"I'm fine. It's-- They- I..." you take in a deep breath. "He's the father."

"Wh- wait, what?" he opens his mouth in disgust.

"Her brother, Bobbie, he's the father of her baby. I think ... I think he raped her." you look at him, nervously biting your bottom lip.

"Eugh." he grimaces. "Uhh ... alright, how did the ultrasound come back?"

"Uterine bleeding, torn umbilical cord ... she needs surgery. She doesn't want it, but she needs the surgery to save the baby." You sigh. "He's telling her to have the surgery."

"Okay, Come with me, we'll get the surgery forms and check the internet to see if there are any incest laws."

----------------

"You couldn't keep your big mouth shut, could you?" you hear Bobbie say as you walk in the room behind Mark.

"Dr. Grey, you don't have to answer that." Mark assures you, dropping the papers on the table over Anna's bed. "Miss Thompson, these forms are consent forms and insurance papers for your baby's surgery."

"I can't afford it, I- I can't." Anna swallows.

"Mr. Thompson, could you leave the room?" he turns on his heel quickly to look at the man, who isn't quite as tall as him.

"I'd rather not."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't really asking, I was trying to be polite in saying; get the hell out of the room," Mark pulls his mouth into a smug little smirk, the kind that always managed to make you imagine what sick, dirty little thought is in his head.

Bobbie gives you a dirty look, before making his way to, and out the door.

"Miss Thompson, the tear in your umbilical cord has a seventy-five percent chance of bleeding out."

"Why is the plastic surgeon here? Shouldn't I be talking to an OB?"

"We paged in one of the best, all the way from LA." Mark says, and you turn your head to look at him.

"Wait, you paged Dr. Montgomery?" you say, your mouth staying open after you've finished talking.

"Yeah." he tells you, and you know that he's sorry he didn't tell you first. "Uh, anyway, Miss Thompson, when Dr. Montgomery gets here, she's going to tell you the exact same thing I'm telling you now. You need surgery."

"No, I don't. I can live with a 25% of having a baby." she looks from Mark to you. "You haven't even caught on to the fact that I do not want this kid?"

Mark looks down.

You take over. "In the very likely event of your umbilical cord further tearing and bleeding internally, you could lose too much blood and die yourself."

Now she's paying attention.

"Yeah, there's a reason I'm in plastics." he smiles at you.

You think to yourself of going into natal and pre-natal care as a specialty.

"Damn it." Mark drops his cell phone on the coffee table in the lounge. "Her flight got canceled. The plane crash has backed up all Seattle flights up to Saturday."

It's only Monday.

"That cord could bleed out in less than half an hour." you sigh frustratedly, adjusting your position on the couch next to him to accommodate your baby. "It'd be faster to drive upto LA, spend the night and drive back."

Mark turns his head to look at you, with a sneaky smirk spreading across his face.

"That sounds like fun."

You let a small laugh escape you.

"It sounds like a seventeen and a half hour drive, that's not in traffic, one way, staying with a woman you slept with twice on a rebound and then another seventeen and a half hour trip with her back to Seattle." you tell him.

"Why don't you come with me?"

"You're committed to going, aren't you?" you laugh.

"It's perfect; a nurse looks after her for the two days we'll be gone, we get a vacation, we get Addison and the patient won't die." he smirks, giving you an encouraging tap on the knee.

"Ow!" you wince.

He jumps. "Sorry!" he whispers.

You nod. "Seriously, though. If you're headed up to LA, I'm going too."

"To stop me sleeping with Addison?" he laughs.

"I've never been to LA. I think it'd be nice." you drop your feet off the couch onto the floor.

"Okay, then." he smiles at you, grabbing his phone from the coffee table. "I'll call Addison to tell her we're coming."

You smile, getting up. "I'll tell Meredith what's happening, check on Anna and get a nurse to watch her."

You close your suitcase and drop it to the foot of your bed.

"You're going to LA, then."

"For one night," you remind your sister.

"With your ex-boyfriend. And your heart lives in your vagina."

"I'm not going to be sleeping with Mark, Meredith." You laugh, relaxing on your bed. "I'm not interested anymore."

"Whatever. I'm going to bed." she pats you on the hand, before leaving the room.

You yawn and turn on your side, and you feel the baby kick. A sweet smile spreads across your face, as you push your blonde hair behind your ear. You lie down, face up to the ceiling, with your hand to your belly. You feel another little baby kick and pick up the phone on your bedside table. You dial his cell number.

"Dad?" you say softly into the phone.

You hear a glass clinking with another, and your smile drops.

He slurs his voice into the phone, and you choke out the word again.

"Dad?!"

He's drinking. With Meredith's liver, he's drinking.

He's drunk and he says something like 'Can you drive me home', or 'I don't know where I am,' and you put the phone down with a loud click.

You sigh and drop your head back to the pillow. Damn it.

---------

The chapter is over. It was really hard to write, I was watching Gran Torino while writing and it took nearly five hours. It's probably not as long as the other chapters, and I assure you it is not the last chapter.