Chapter 14:
Author's Note: Hi, you guys! I'm very sorry about the lateness of this update; I'm currently on vacation. I hope the length of the chapter (and that little one-shot I wrote) makes up for it a bit.
. . .
2.15 AM
. . .
Having just hung up on Mark, Lexie's getting a glass of water from the kitchen when a voice behind her causes her to almost jump out of her skin.
"So what is it?" A voice asks from the darkness behind her.
"Oh!" Lexie calls, doing a one-eighty at the sound. "Jesus, you scared me," she says, recognizing the voice as her husband's. She sets down the glass in her hand, looking around for him in the dark. "I almost spilled water all over the floor."
"Why are you leaving me for him?" Jackson asks, ignoring her words. "What's the reason?"
Lexie sighs, picking up her water again before leaning back against the countertop beside the fridge and waiting for him to show himself. Jackson steps forward a second later from the dining room where he'd been standing beside one of the chairs at the table. With just one look at him, Lexie can tell he hasn't slept even a minute since she had told him hours ago.
"Is he that much better in bed than me? Is that why?"
"Jackson," Lexie sighs in disapproval. "Come on."
"What? I'm serious. I want to know."
"I said I was leaving, and that's the first thing that came into your mind? Who's a better lay?"
"I'm sorry, is that not what you would have thought? You two've been screwing each other and now you're leaving me. I thought it was a valid concern, seeing as we haven't slept together in—in I can't even remember how long." He narrows his eyes at her. "Because you were always busy, right? Or I was in surgery." He nods his head. "Right. We were so focused on making real careers that we forgot about each other, which is awful but—" He shrugs. "Worked out good for you, didn't it? Better than you could have hoped for, huh?"
"You don't need to be concerned," Lexie replies slowly, trying to modulate her voice and erase his last few sentences from her mind. "That isn't why. And sex is a stupid reason for getting divorced," she adds.
"Then why?"
Lexie sighs before answering. "I told you," she replies quietly, looking down at the glass in her hands. "I love him."
It's silent for a moment within their darkened house while Jackson processes this. "Wow," he notes, turning around to leave. "That actually hurt more. Congratulations."
"You asked—" Lexie calls, stepping forward to follow him.
"Yes, and you could have lied," Jackson replies loudly, whirling around. "You could have humored me!"
"Really?" Lexie counters, her eyes flashing to his. "Would you have wanted that? Would you have really wanted me to lie to you, after everything?"
"I'd like a little compassion," Jackson replies sharply. "I'd like a little sympathy. But apparently even that is too much for you to muster."
"Jackson—"
"I mean, god, I just want to know what it is!" He shouts, a wild look in his eyes. "If it's not the sex, then what is it? Money, looks, success—I mean, is it because he's a better surgeon? Is that why?"
"Ugh," Lexie grumbles, rolling her eyes. "Surgery? Seriously?"
"Oh, come on, Lex," Jackson continues as if she hadn't spoken. "Just tell me what it is!"
"Jackson," Lexie groans. "It is none of those things, I promise you."
"Then what could he possibly have that I don't have? Why are you leaving me? What is it?"
"Nothing," Lexie replies forcefully, suddenly desperate to make him understand. "It's nothing! He doesn't have anything that you don't have, that's just it! There's only one difference, and it isn't something he has."
"Right." Jackson chuckles, but Lexie's unsure if it's a defense mechanism he's built up or a response to what he sees as true hilarity. She doesn't really want to know, either way. "It's love." She watches as his expression hardens in the shadows of their house. "You love him."
Lexie just closes her eyes, knowing it'll do no good to respond. After a few seconds, she walks forward, and seeing their conversation has drawn to a close, passes him on the way out to the living room. His eyes follow her as she walks past him and goes back to her makeshift bed on the couch.
"What?" He calls tauntingly after her. "You embarrassed of it now? Can't even look me in the eye and tell me truth even when I know it? Even when I can take it?"
Lexie groans quietly to herself, setting down the glass of water on their coffee table and running her hands through her hair before turning around. "Jackson, we both know you don't want me to look you in the eye and tell you the truth. You don't want to hear any more."
He stares at her, shaking his head in disbelief. "You know what?" He asks, following after her. "I do want to know. I do want you to tell me the truth—the whole truth."
"You don't want to do this," Lexie warns him. "You're trying to prove a point but you really don't—"
"Oh," Jackson cuts in, taking a seat in one of the chairs next to the couch. "I think I do. Come on." He spreads his hands. "Lay it all out for me."
Lexie sighs, knowing he won't give up anytime soon, and takes a seat on the couch. It's no use fighting him. And it's only fair, she reminds herself. If he wants to know, he should be able to know. "Okay," she replies, looking up at him. Her eyes bore into his for a few seconds before she asks. "What do you want to know?"
It's silent for a couple minutes between the two. Only the sounds of distant metropolitan traffic and sirens can be heard; their neighborhood is as soundless as their own house. Lexie taps her foot absentmindedly, unsure of how to prepare herself. He could ask about anything. He could ask about anything, and they both know she would have to answer. The guilt would be too much otherwise.
"You were crying," Jackson says finally.
"What?" Lexie's eyes fly to his. He heard that?
"On our wedding day," Jackson clarifies. Lexie's relieved to see he looks away as he speaks; she doesn't think she'd be able to look him in the eye after the turn this conversation has taken. "When we were being driven away from the chapel, you were crying. I thought…" He swallows. "I thought it was because you were happy."
. . .
"Bye!" Lexie and Jackson call as they wave to their assembled friends and family outside the church. They're all standing, waving and cheering, as the couple enters their chauffeured car. A genuine smile curves up Lexie's lips upon seeing April Kepner among her friends, smelling the flowers from the bouquet she'd caught just minutes ago. She offers everyone one last waved before they both climb inside, Lexie on the right, Jackson on the left, and wave until the car turns a corner down the street. They sit comfortably as the driver merges into traffic, spread out in the spacious backseat.
"You happy?" Jackson asks softly, reaching over to take her hand. Lexie glances over to him quickly, her eyes nervous. She nods rapidly, turning away to wipe her eyes where he can't see. She studies the crowd they're leaving behind in the side mirror, searching for the one person she knows isn't there. He never magically appeared as she'd hoped. He never came, and she wishes she could stop hoping.
"Hey," Jackson murmurs, drawing her attention away from the window. "Don't cry," he says with a smile, squeezing her hand. "You look great. Everything went perfectly."
" I know." Lexie chuckles softly. "Thanks. I'm just a mess, sorry. I doubt my face is much better than my emotions."
"Don't be ridiculous. You've never looked better. And that dress? Fantastic."
"What?" Lexie jokes, gesturing down at the confection of white fabric surrounding her. "This old thing?"
"Yeah, you just pulled that out of the bottom of your closet, didn't you?"
"Caught me," Lexie replies. "I'm cheap, you know." She waits a moment, glancing over to him. "Are you happy?"
He grins, leaning forward to kiss her lovingly. When they break apart a few seconds later, he answers her. "Never been happier."
"Right," Lexie smiles weakly through her tears. "Me neither."
"Come here," Jackson suggests, holding out an arm. She unbuckles her seatbelt, sliding across the backseat of the courier and into his comforting arms. "We've got forever, alright? Starting today, we've got everything."
Lexie nods, her head slumped against his shoulder. "We do," she manages after a moment. "We have…" She pauses, closing her eyes and forcing a smile. "Forever."
"I love you," he whispers in her ear, holding her tight. Lexie nods again, whispering quietly in response. He smiles at her words, assuming she'd repeated his own and, needing no reassurance of his guess, he looks out the window at the beauty of the brightly shining sun. A good omen, he thinks with a smile, consolingly rubbing her arm as she leans against his chest.
. . .
"Look at me," Jackson commands harshly when his eyes returns to hers and her gaze immediately drops. "Look at me and tell me you weren't thinking about him. Look at me and try not to lie to my goddamn face."
"Really," he adds with sickly sweet smile when she doesn't speak. "Let's see if you can do it."
"Jackson…"
"I'm waiting."
"Fine," Lexie mutters, following his instructions and looking him in the eye. "You want the truth? You want to make this worse for yourself? You want to make this more painful? Yes, I was upset. And yes, it was because I was thinking about him." She stares at him coldly. "There you go. You were right." Her expression sours. "Tell me, does it make you fell any better?"
"It was supposed to be the most important day of our lives, wasn't it?" Jackson counters, ignoring her jab. "Well, it was important to me." He crosses his arms. "What about you?"
"It—it was important to me too," Lexie manages, already feeling guilty for mocking him just a moment ago. Her rudeness was more a cover for her shock—she can't quite believe he remembered what had transpired after the ceremony. It was a tiny detail of a huge day over six years ago. It was nothing. Nothing. "It—was important."
He closes his eyes, chuckling softly at her words. "Important," he repeats. "But not for the same reason as me, huh?" Lexie opens her mouth to protest, but he continues before she can speak. "You led me to believe the crying was because you were happy, but you weren't, were you? Happiest day of my life and you were sitting there crying. Over him."
"Jackson—"
"To think I tried to make you feel better. To think I tried to comfort you while you were crying over your little boyfriend." Jackson swallows roughly, but forces himself not to drop her gaze. She deserves this, he thinks. "You were crying because you were marrying me and not him, weren't you? I—I thought it was just runaway emotions, you know, because of everything that had happened. I thought it was something you couldn't control. But you were trying to control it. You didn't want me to see that at all. You thought I'd be able to read your face, and that I'd—I'd be able to see him." Jackson pauses and lets out a breath, long and slow. Lexie wonders if he knows how truthful his words are, or if he's just making accusations to hurt her. "When I said we have forever, I was trying to comfort you, you know. But I'm sure you just saw it as torture," he finishes, his voice stumbling over the last word. The facts he'd begun voicing as a way to get back at her had begun backfiring as soon as he realized just how true they were. I can't, can I? He thinks to himself. I can't win with her. It's impossible.
Lexie bites her tongue. As much as she wants to admit that every word he'd said was true, she knows it would only be another twist of the knife if she did so. So she stays silent, trying to protect him if she can.
But they both know he's right. Neither needs confirmation.
"I honestly have no idea why I ever believed a word you said," he begins again. "I don't know why I didn't just see it from the beginning. It was plenty obvious."
"Jackson…"
"I just…" He says heatedly before trailing off. "You know, I must've looked past it," he finishes softly, looking down. She can tell from the way his voice trails off that he's attributing himself to the failure of their marriage.
"It's not your fault," Lexie replies, rushing through her words as she tries to convince him. "It—it was never your fault. You can't… Really, Jackson, you can't blame yourself for this. There's—it just… It doesn't make any sense."
"It makes plenty of sense," he says quietly. "I knew you… loved him, and I just…let it slip by. You know, I just thought it would go away. Fade over time."
"It…didn't," Lexie replies softly.
His eyes flick up to her face in half a second, resuming their earlier angry shade. "Yes, I realize that now, thank you. Believe it or not, I know how you feel about him."
"I was just—"
"You know what?" Jackson asks, standing up. "I shouldn't have come out here. You're right; I don't want to know this." He jerks his thumb towards the bedroom. "So I'm gonna go. I'll see you in the morning."
Lexie watches him go, confused at his rapid mood swings. "Night," she says quietly as the door closes. She stares at it, hardly being able to believe that it's the first physical barrier that's been put between them in six years.
. . .
6 AM
. . .
"Hi," Lexie murmurs when she sees him the in morning. Jackson nods as he walks by, but doesn't reply. He just pours himself another cup of coffee and rubs the back of his neck.
"So I'm guessing you already have a lawyer and everything," he says in lieu of a morning greeting.
Lexie looks over her shoulder, eyeing his sleep-deprived expression. "I do." She speaks softly, as if raising her voice would make her betrayal that much worse.
"So how does this happen?"
Lexie licks her lips, staring at him. The house is silent for a few seconds before she speaks. "Just like that?" She asks in quiet wonder. "You're just…letting go?" She'd expect him to fight back, not to just let her… walk away.
"It was a long night," Jackson replies, staring right at her. "And I figure that there's no point in holding on if you're so keen on being with someone else. Besides, I know a losing battle when I see one. And you and Sloan…" He looks away, and Lexie wishes there was something she could do to comfort him. But even now, it's too late. Even if she went back to him now, there was no way they could still work, still be anything close to what they were before. When Jackson looks back at her, he's smiling. "Who can compete with that, right?"
"Jackson," Lexie murmurs, stepping forward and reaching out to him without thinking.
"You know what?" Jackson gets up, backing away from her just as she's moved towards him. "I should go." He turns around, grabbing his coat as he heads to the door.
"Where? You don't have work—"
"I'm going for a walk," he interrupts.
"Well, wait, we should—"
"I'm sure we'll talk again soon," he replies quickly, "after you serve me papers to facilitate the dissolution of a marriage that you wrecked by sleeping with someone else."
"Jack—"
"Bye, Lexie," he calls, letting the door slam shut behind him. He takes a deep breath as he steps out into the cold winter air, thankful for odd silence of the mid-morning. All he can hear are the sounds of a few distant cars as he sets off down the street.
. . .
"Mer, look," Derek says quietly, taking a seat beside her in the cafeteria. It's mostly empty, with a few scattered doctors taking quick breakfast breaks just like them. "I know you want to tell him, but you can't be sure about—"
"She was there over Christmas, Derek," Meredith hisses across the table at him. She glances over her shoulder out of habit, but no one is within earshot. "Christmas! And I saw her come back in the same clothes from the night before. Then I heard her feed Jackson some bullshit line about visiting Thatcher. She was with Mark. I know it, so stop stalling. We have to tell him."
"No, she couldn't have been," Derek argues, taking a gulp of his coffee. "Mark told me he called it off."
"Then he was lying."
"You don't know that. You don't have any proof that they're—"
"I'm sorry," Meredith interrupts angrily, "but do I need more proof than the fact that she comes back at four in the morning every night she stays at our house? Where the hell else would she be that late?"
Derek shakes his head. "Meredith, you weren't there when I talking to him—"
"We have to tell him," she cuts in firmly. "If you don't want to do it, then I will."
Derek sighs, running a hand over his tired face. "Fine," he acquiesces, knowing he'll be gentler at breaking the news than his wife. "I'll tell him."
"Well?" Meredith asks a moment later, staring at her unmoving husband. "Come on. Tell him already."
"Will you just give me a minute?" Derek asks abruptly, glaring at her while she sits back in her chair. "I'll be ruining his life; give me a second to prepare."
"You aren't the one ruining it," Meredith mutters.
. . .
Jackson is barely a few minutes into his walk when he hears his phone ring in his pocket. He sighs, annoyed. It's probably Lexie, he thinks, his finger drifting automatically to the 'ignore' glances down at the screen anyway, surprised to find that it isn't his wife—it's Derek. He hesitates for just a moment before taking the call. Distraction will be good.
"Jackson Avery."
"Hey, Jackson, it's Derek."
"Hey, man. What's up?"
"Nothing, just… There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."
"Oh, yeah? You got a case or something?" Give me some normalcy, please.
"It's…about Lexie."
Jackson immediately takes the phone from his ear, holding it with a death grip between his fingers. Does everything have to be about her? His knuckles turn white, as if his bones are pushing through his flesh, as Derek's concerned voice floats out to meet him.
"I don't…I don't really know how to say this, but… Meredith and I…We've seen Lexie with…someone else. Another…another man. And I…I'm sorry I had to tell you over the phone, but I thought you needed to know and… Jackson? Are you there? …Avery?"
"Yes," he replies after a tense minute, bringing the device back to his ear. His voice is crisp. "Thank you, Derek, for finally telling me. It's a wonder someone ever got around to it." He sneers, and the fact that Derek cannot see him barely detracts from the gesture. "And Sloan's quite a 'man,' isn't he?" Avery adds. "Stealing someone's wife, what a manly thing to do."
"Wai…Wait, you know about it? And you—you know it was Mark?"
"Yes, me, the clueless husband, I know."
"And you didn't…You didn't do anything?"
"What can I do?" Jackson snaps angrily. "She's made her decision, and if she's been this miserable with me for years, I won't bother trying to keep her."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Derek says quickly, straightening up. "What do you mean, you won't bother trying to keep her? What are you talking about?"
"Oh, Sloan didn't tell you? That was grand of him, leaving it to me." Jackson exhales loudly, watching his breath float off into the chilly air. "We're getting divorced, Derek."
"What?"
Jackson can hear the disbelief clearly in his friend's voice, but his tone remains bored. "Yes. Divorce. Lawyers." He glances at his watch, checking the date. "I'm sure I'll be getting some papers in the mail in a day or two."
"And you're—you're not fighting it? You won't even try to change her mind?"
"There's no point," Jackson replies, feeling his sleepless night rush through him again. "If she doesn't want to be with me, I won't force her. And, anyway, fighting it won't do anything. It'll just lengthen a process that I really don't want to go through in the first place."
"Yeah, but you could at least try to convince her—"
"There's no way to convince her. She doesn't even love me."
"Oh, Jackson, you guys are married. She must—"
"No, she mustn't anything, apparently," he snaps before pauses and taking a deep breath. "You know the only reason she said 'yes' when I asked her?"
Derek swallows. From Avery's tone of voice, Derek can tell he won't want to hear what's coming.
"She said she didn't know there was any other answer but 'yes.'" Jackson laughs ruefully as he answers his own question. "As if she'd never heard the word 'no.' …Which, at this point, I can completely believe. He can't say no to her, I can't say no to her…" He shakes his head. "She gets whatever she wants, including this divorce."
"Jackson, I'm… I'm so sorry."
"Not your fault," he replies cheerfully. "It's not like you turned a blind eye and let it pass you by for years—oh, wait! You did!"
"I—"
"Before you try to say you didn't know," Jackson growls into the phone, "don't. We both know you knew. You had to have known." He pauses, and he can hear the neurosurgeon sigh on the other side of the line.
"Jackson, you have to understand," Derek implores him after a moment, leaning forward as if the man were sitting across from him. "Meredith and I knew but we didn't know what to do. We tried—"
"No, you didn't try anything. I cannot remember one conversation where you—even vaguely—tried to point out that she was sleeping with someone else. So you're partly to blame for all this too. I just thought you should know."
"Jacks—" Derek begins, only to be cut off.
"Bye, Derek. Thank you for calling after the fact and trying to be a good guy. That really didn't make this situation any shittier at all. Next time, you know, just tell me when you suspect my wife is screwing someone else."
"Avery—" Derek tries again, desperate to tell his side of things, but is shut down. He hears the other line click, and so he also ends the call, knowing his efforts are useless.
Despite feeling like shattering the device on the icy ground, Jackson slips his phone back into his pocket and continues on his walk. He forces a smile on his face despite feeling like he wants to strangle someone. So everyone knew, he thinks to himself. Fantastic. Everyone but me.
. . .
"Didn't go well, I presume?" Meredith asks, taking a bite of her bagel. Derek closes his eyes, leaning back in his chair and running his hands through his hair.
"They're getting divorced," he tells his wife, massaging his forehead with his palms.
"WHAT?" Meredith half-shouts, causing all of the doctors in the lunchroom to look over at her. "Sorry," she mutters to the gawkers before she leans towards her husband.
"What do you mean they're getting divorced?" She asks urgently. "They've—they've been married almost as long as we have, they can't—"
"They are," Derek replies. "And Jackson isn't even bothering to fight it."
"You've got to be kidding me," Meredith replies in disbelief. "Even Addison tried to get you back when you filed for divorce, and he—he could do it too!"
Derek closes his eyes. "I don't think he wants to," he says quietly. "He's convinced she doesn't love him and is willing to give her what she wants. Why, I have absolutely no idea," Derek mutters.
"It isn't like he was the one who did wrong here," Meredith argues. "It's not like he's the one who went off and slept with someone else for eight years!"
Derek just sighs, not knowing what to say.
"We waited too long," Meredith murmurs, voicing his thoughts. "We should have told him years ago."
"I know," Derek whispers, covering his face with his hands tiredly. "I know."
Meredith stares at him for a moment before getting to her feet. "I'm going to go talk to Mark," she announces.
"Mer, that's not a good idea…"
"Screw him," Meredith seethes, towering over the table. "He can't do this. He can't keep ruining other people's lives just because he can't keep it in his pants."
"I think it's more than that," Derek argues. "He loves her and—"
"I don't care if he goddamn proposed to her," Meredith hisses. "He can't do this."
. . .
"Whitney Palmer."
"Hello, it's Lexie Grey."
"Lexie, hi. What can I do for you?"
"I told him."
"Your husband? You told him you wanted a divorce?"
"He—he said he wasn't going to fight it. He knew I was serving papers, but he's just…" Lexie trails off, still confused. "He's just…letting go."
Whitney leans forward at her desk. "Okay, Lexie, you have to remember that this is a good thing. If your husband doesn't dispute the divorce, it means this can go smoothly. We might—you know, we might not even have to do this in court."
Lexie perks up at this, her confusion fading to the background. "Really?"
"If he agrees, we could do a series of negotiation sessions to sort out all of your assets and belongings—"
"He can have them," Lexie cuts in. "I told you I didn't want anything."
"You don't want anything now. But when this…When this case picks up speed, you might find that there are some things—bank accounts, houses, possessions—that you might want after all. And we should prepare for that." Whitney taps her pen against the pad of paper. "But if we look back over this in a few weeks' time and you still don't want to get anything out of the divorce, then we don't have to go to court."
"I thought people always had to go to court…"
"Usually," Whitney corrects. "Usually people go to court. But this is quite a…unique case. Court is for custody issues, spousal support, division of property… Court is for couples who need someone to rule on their problems because they cannot come to an agreement themselves."
"Well, besides me leaving, I don't think we have any issues… I mean, he can have whatever he wants." Except me.
"Then that makes this simple." She pauses. "You know, you actually had perfect timing with this call. I was about to send out your paperwork—"
"Can I, um, can I come get it?"
"You want to deliver it personally? Are you sure?"
"Yes," Lexie replies firmly. "I don't want them just showing up out of the blue."
"They would be sent by the office," Whitney informs her. "And I don't know if it' such a good idea to—"
"No, trust me, I should be the one to give them to him."
There's a pause on the line. "If you're sure," Whitney allows hesitantly after a moment.
"I'm sure."
"Then you can come and pick them up at anytime."
. . .
Mark Sloan is prescribing medication for one of his burn patients when a sharp shout makes him look up.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Meredith demands, walking up to him and grabbing his arm.
"What?" Mark asks, looking up. He spots Derek a few feet behind her, but he can't tell whose side the neurosurgeon is on. Meredith doesn't reply, she instead drags him into a deserted on-call room and slams the door behind them.
"What do you think you're doing with my sister?" Meredith shouts as soon as they're alone.
"I'm not doing anything with your sister," Mark replies calmly. "Why would you think that?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because she's divorcing her husband for you," Meredith hisses.
Mark does his best to sound shocked. "What?"
"Oh, don't pretend to look all taken aback," Meredith growls at him. "I know this is because of you. I know your part in it all."
"My part?" Mark repeats. "I have a part?"
"Of course you have a part; you're the reason she's leaving him, you jackass." Mark doesn't even pretend to look surprised this time, nor insulted at the moniker. He knows Derek most likely told her everything Mark had told him at Christmas. His gaze flickers to the door, where he knows Derek is probably standing guard, with narrowed eyes. What happened to best-friend confidentiality? He thinks, more than a little annoyed at the breach of trust.
"And, Mark, I swear to god—if you so much as do one thing to hurt her…" Meredith exhales angrily, shaking her head and turning her back to him.
"Meredith…" Mark begins slowly, staring at her back as genuine shock colors his tone. Is she…giving us her blessing? "What…exactly…are you saying?"
The general surgeon pivots slowly, staring at him with her hands on her hips all the while. Mark licks his lips, suddenly nervous and realizing how important Meredith's approval might be.
"Are you saying this is… okay?" He asks hesitantly.
"Okay?" Meredith replies, her silence rising to a shout again. "Am I saying this is okay? Am I saying that you sleeping with my sister for eight years while she was married was okay?" Meredith yells, stepping forward menacingly. "What the hell do you—"
"Okay, okay, okay," Mark cuts in quickly. "I didn't mean it like that."
"That is exactly what you meant and we both know it," Meredith snaps. She shakes her head, and Mark can practically feel the revulsion radiating off her skin towards him. "I can't believe you would think—"
"Okay, I get it," Mark interjects. "You hate me and you think I'm a jackass. I understand that, and you're entitled to your opinion. But…" He steps forward, looking into her eyes. "Mer, just tell me what you were going to say."
Meredith closes her eyes, sighing softly. She opens her eyes a moment later, staring right back at him. Her voice is so cold when she speaks, Mark could swear she was freezing him with every word. "If you do anything to hurt her," Meredith begins slowly. "I will go buy a gun, give it to Jackson, and tell him where to find you."
Mark feels his lips twitch slightly, but forces himself to quickly hide the smile that was starting to form on his face. She's… okay with this, he thinks in wonder.A moment later he frowns down at her. "He knows where I am."
"Well," Meredith replies, heading to the door. "Let's hope he doesn't buy a gun and shoot you."
"Meredith," he calls after her. The elder Grey stops by the door, turning to stare at him.
"What?"
"I know you don't trust me, but... I promise you I won't hurt her."
Meredith stares at her for a moment before shaking her head in obvious defeat. "Right," she replies. "Of course you won't. You're Mark Sloan." She smiles mockingly at him. "You don't hurt anyone, do you? You're a saint, right?" She asks sarcastically, stepping outside of the on-call room.
"Mer," Mark calls, following her out. He reaches out to explain to her, but she's already walking away, back to Derek. His best friend just stares at him, shaking his head. I know, Derek, Mark thinks. I never do anything right, do I?
. . .
9 PM
. . .
"Hi."
Jackson looks over his shoulder and, upon seeing the folder in his wife's arms, turns back around. Lexie pauses a moment, her fingers tapping the folder idly, before stepping forward and standing across the counter to face him.
"I have some papers."
"I can see that," he replies, focused on the journal before him. He looks up a second later, his eyes critical. "Aren't those supposed to come in the mail?"
"Yes, but I… Well, I asked to give them to you myself."
"Oh yeah? Did you want another chance to look me in the eye and say you're leaving? Wanna see what it does to me one more time?"
"I—Honestly, Jackson, I thought it would be better this way. I didn't just want it to show up at the doorstep out of nowhere."
"Having it show up in your hands isn't much better."
"I'm sorry, I just… Here," she says, passing him the folder. "You can just—look them over and then just… Just meet with a lawyer and we can… do this."
"Yeah," Jackson replies with fake cheer as he snatches the papers out of her outstretched hand. "Let's do this! Let's get divorced!"
Lexie sighs. "Look, I was just trying to be—"
"I don't care what you were trying to be," Jackson cuts in, getting to his feet and heading to the door. "I already know who you really are."
"So—What?" Lexie asks, following him to the front door. "You're just going to walk out every time I try to talk to you?"
"No," Jackson replies, pulling on his coat. "I'm going to walk out every time you make me remember that you've been sleeping with Mark Sloan." He nose scrunches in aggravation. "I don't need any reminders."
"I didn't say one thing about him—"
"Yeah, well, somehow the word 'divorce' does it just as well. Weird, huh? Maybe the two are connected," he muses, stepping out the door.
"Jackson," Lexie calls, pulling the door he'd tried to shut open and following him outside. "Where you going?"
"I'm not sure if you need to know that," he calls over his shoulder as he unlocks his car.
"Well are you going to look over—"
"The divorce papers?" Jackson asks. "Yes, I will get right on that. I'm actually headed to the attorney's office right now."
"Jackson, if you'd just—" Lexie tries to call him back, but soon her voice is forgotten as he revs the engine, backs out of their driveway, and heads towards downtown Portland without another glance.
. . .
Jackson's downing glass after glass of whiskey a few hours later. He had lost count of how many an hour or two prior. He's been staring at a couple at the far end of the bar for the past fifteen minutes, wondering why they keep changing shape. Each time he blinks, they're strangers. Each time he looks back over, they're strikingly familiar, drawing up memories he wishes he could forget.
. . .
"Oh, Lexie, I just got a page—Bailey wants us back in the ICU, so…"
She turns her head to look at him, but barely has a chance to meet his eyes before a soft finger beneath her chin pulls her gaze forward, back to him.
"Can you deal with it, please?" She murmurs, her lips barely moving as the almost inaudible words travel back to him. Even from ten feet away, he can tell her question isn't even a response. Even from ten feet away, he can tell she had forgotten their conversation the moment she met his eyes again.
Jackson nods, shaking his head slightly at the idea that she'd brush him off like that, but heads back toward the bar nonetheless. He takes one glance back, foolishly wondering if she's looking for him. She isn't.
When he looks back, it's clear that neither of them have eyes for anyone but the other. From his vantage point, Jackson can only see the man, but what he sees is enough to figure that her expression must mirror his. A look of such serenity and honest love forms in the man's eyes as he looks down at the woman before him. His hand softly caresses the side of her face as she tilts her chin towards him, unable to help herself from wanting more. Unable to stop herself from wanting him.
The man ducks down just as she's straining upwards to meet him, but it's her hands that cover his face this time and draw him closer. It's she who moves forward, barely allowing any space between them despite the public setting. It's she who holds onto him and kisses him like she's dying for the breath only he can give her.
Even walking away, Jackson could see the desperate way she reached up to kiss him, and the relief like nothing else alive in his eyes when she did so.
. . .
Jackson wishes he'd never looked back. Just that one image seems to feed his imagination, and as much as he wishes it wouldn't happen, he can't stop the torturous scenes playing through his head just like the night she told him. He can't get the images of them out of his head. Even though he's never seen them so much as kiss in the last eight years, it's as if his mind has gone in overdrive. Things he shouldn't be able to see and never has seen keep floating through his mind, electric and alive.
He squeezes his eyes shut, twisting his face away from the couple at the far end of the bar. It can't be. It just can't be.
And it isn't. He takes one more quick look—and the woman's hair has returned to it's normal blonde shade, and the man has shrunk by a good four inches. It isn't them. He blinks quickly as if to check, and when he does, they're back. He groans, rubbing his hands over his face and grabbing his drink again. Maybe another round will help.
"What are you doing with those papers there?"
Jackson looks up as he polishes off what could be either his fifth or fiftieth drink, staring at the man before him. The bartender is standing in front of him, his arms spread out on the counter. He nods towards to the manila folder sitting beside his drink. Jackson looks up blearily.
"Gettin' divorced," Jackson replies with a hand supporting his chin.
"Oh." The bartender frowns. "Sorry, man."
Jackson waves a hand. "Yeah, yeah. I've heard it before."
"What happened?" The man asks, curious. "If you don't mind me asking, that is," he adds quickly.
"Oh, yeah, no big deal. Everyone knows already, it seems." He lets out a long, boozy breath. "Got cheated on."
The bartender offers him a sympathetic frown. "Again. Sorry."
"Yeah." He holds up his left hand, and opens his mouth to speak. "We were married…" He trails off, staring at the gold band. He turns his hand around in wonder. How many more days until it isn't there anymore? He drops his hand a moment later, looking back up at the bartender. "We were, uh, married six years."
"That's a while."
"Seemed like it." He turns the glass in his hands. "That is, until I found out she'd been screwing around for eight."
The bartender winces. "Life sucks, huh?" He asks after a moment.
"Yeah," Jackson replies, pushing his glass forward for another. He glances to his phone, keys, and divorce papers sitting on the counter. He runs his fingertips over his cell lightly. "Life sucks."
. . .
A shrill ringing noise wakes Mark from his sleep. He rolls over in bed, reaching out blindly to his bedside counter. For a minute he debates whether or not he should throw the offending thing at the wall, but if someone calling this late, it must be serious. He sighs. It's probably Hunt.
He glances at the caller ID before answering the phone. 503 area code. Portland.
"Lexie? You okay?" Mark asks hurriedly, already more awake than asleep, his mind going crazy with possible scenarios she's calling him from.
"Ha…" A male voice laughs. "You would think it was her."
. . .
Excuse me, please, one more drink
Could you make it strong, cause I don't need to think
She broke my heart
My grace is gone
One more drink and I'll move on
. . .
One drink to remember, then another to forget
Oh, how could I ever dream to find sweet love like you again?
One drink to remember and another to forget
. . .
One more drink and I'll move on
One more drink and I'll be gone
One more drink and my grace is…
Gone.
. . .
Author's Note: So did you guys see Shonda Rhimes' tweet from a few days ago? She said there was an 87% percent chance things would work out for Mark and Lexie. Seeing as she's lied so much in the past, though, I kind of half hate her for even sending that tweet. (False hope and all that, you know...) The other half of me, of course, is jumping for joy and grabbing onto those words like they're a life raft and I'm drowning. …I have a very complicated relationship with the Grey's writers, if you couldn't tell.
Anyway. What did you guys make of the tweet? And of the chapter? Please review! Again, sorry for the late update!
PS: This just happens to be my favorite DMB song.