Warning: None. Rated T.

A/N: Thank you so much for your comments on the first chapter of this story. I agree that I hated that Mark was left behind…but I will say, since both actors were leaving I have rather they died together like they did so we never had to see Mark move on. He was with his soulmate in the end. My only compliant was the "I love you" came when she was dying.

Hope you enjoy this second installment.

This chapter's song title is "Hold Me Why You Wait" by Lewis Capaldi

Chapter 2 –Hold Me Why You Wait

Monday – 6:30am (Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital)

"I need my best friend," Mark said stepping into the elevator with him.

Derek yawned. "What is it this time?"

"It's about Julia…and now Lexie," Mark said.

"Mnph."

"After yesterday, after Julia telling me she was ready to give me everything I wanted—including a baby—the more the idea warmed me after we last talked. I was ready to go all in. I was ready to impregnate her," he admitted.

Derek turned his head towards his best friend, his eyebrow arching upwards. "I see that you really took the time to think about it," he mused, taking a drink of his coffee. "What does this have to do with Lexie?"

He let out a long breath. "She told me last night that she was still in love with me. That she couldn't be without me."

"What did you say?" he asked, his tone turning more intrigued, not giving away that he already knew this information.

Mark winced. "Thank you for letting me know," he replied.

"Mark!"

"What? Julia walked up a few seconds later. I didn't know what to do," he argued.

"So, what do you want to do now?"

He let out a long breath. "I don't know. Julia wants to give me everything that I want, but I'm in love with Lexie who doesn't want to give me anything I want. What do I do?"

"Mark…you do what your heart tells you to do. What your heart wants the most. What does your heart want you to do? To choose?" he asked.

"I…"

His words stopped, when the doors to the elevator opened, and Lexie Grey stood before them. Her eyes told him the same exact thing he was feeling. They both weren't ready to address what happened and wanted to bolt from the situation. She was already in too deep, stepping into the elevator and turning away from him and Derek as she stood as close as possible to the elevator doors once they had closed.

His thoughts and feelings were a jumbled mess, and it was all because of the woman standing right before him. The woman he knew without a doubt he was still desperately in love with. Was love enough anymore? Would he open himself up to her again, only for her to wake up one day and just realize that what he wanted wasn't what she wanted and bolt like she had before?

Derek hit him on the forearm with the back of his hand, signaling with his head to say something to her. Mark looked at a loss for what he could possibly say. Outside of "hi," he didn't know what else to do. His mouth was dry; and the words just seem to die in his throat. Derek nudged again, but before he could open his mouth, the doors to the elevator opened, and Lexie ran from them. From him.

"That's great, Mark. Real great," Derek commented, stepping out of the elevator first.

Wednesday– 2:30pm (Somewhere between Boise and Seattle - 30 minutes after the crash)

Mark's eyes opened gingerly. He was aware of a couple of things as he came back into consciousness. One: his chest was hurting with an unbelievable ache. Two: his body felt like he had just put it through a marathon. Three: He was having a hard time remembering where and why he was feeling this way.

He winced; as he rolled onto his side, and took in the surroundings around him. His dark blue scrubs were cased in dirt and grass. Where the hell was, he?

He used his elbow to prop himself up, as he looked around. Pieces of the plane were laying everywhere. It hit him in that instant what had happened. Everything was coming back to him like a wave crashing into shore on the beach. Him sitting on the plane trying to talk to Lexie, the turbulence, and their last few minutes before the plane had gone down.

Lexie.

He looked at the space around him, but she was nowhere to be seen. Neither was any of his friends or colleagues that had been on the plane with him. He grimaced as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, both his chest and his side aching as he did. He inhaled a large breath—a painful squeeze to his chest as he did—but ignored it—knowing that he needed to find his family. He needed to find Lexie.

He pushed up on his calves, until he was on his feet, crouched over as he tried to get his bearings back. His head felt dizzy, and the aches and pains were getting worse, but the frozen feeling that he didn't know if the ones he loved were alive or dead kept him moving forward.

"Lexie!" he shouted.

He waited a few seconds, but got no response. He shouted her name a few times, his arm favoring his side as he looked around the open wooded forest terrain hoping to hear something in response. Anything.

His eyes caught sight of the larger part of the wreckage a good distance away through the trees, and he started moving his feet closer to the area. Maybe he had been thrown further then everyone else, and everyone was closer to the plane then he had been. He didn't—couldn't understand the logistics of how he and Lexie could have been sitting right next to each other, but yet, now separated so far away.

He still recalled feeling her warm hand in his, as their fingers interlocked together, their eyes doing all the talking as the plane started to nosedive and crash in wherever the hell it was, they were. He had to figure they were somewhere in between Boise and Seattle, as he recalled only having been in the air for at least thirty or possibly forty-five minutes before they had crashed.

He looked down at his watch, but the glass was broken and the hands on the dial were no longer working. The time stamp indicated that it had stopped at five after two o'clock in the afternoon. He had no idea what time it was now, or possibly how long he had been unconscious when the plane went down.

His thoughts returned back to Lexie. He kept telling himself that she was ok. That she would be just fine. They were sitting right next to each other. She was probably just unconscious due to the trauma, and that all he had to do was just go in search for her. No matter how many times he kept telling himself that she would be ok, that he would find her and make sure of it, that all of his regrets weren't gripping his heart and squeezing painfully.

Why had he waited so long to try and talk to her? He knew from the moment she had divulged that she was still in love with him, wanted him, that he wanted those same things with her too. It was all he ever wanted. It was Lexie Grey, and he was Mark Sloan. They we're meant to be.

He had every right to want to pause and think, considering the last time they had gotten together only to be ripped apart again shortly after—thanks to him getting Callie pregnant—that his extremely bruised heart wouldn't be able to survive again if Lexie loved him and then left him.

He had thought long ago that he knew what love was when he had been with Derek's ex-wife—his now good friend—Addison Montgomery. Then, he had met Lexie and experienced something that he never truly experienced before. Not even with Addison in their good times. When Lexie left him after he had wanted to step up and take Sloan's baby, he wanted to prove to himself that what they had together wasn't what he had thought it had been. If he slept with Addison and tried and reclaim what they once had, then he could prove that whatever he had felt with Lexie wasn't the real deal.

Only, when he had gone to L.A. and slept with Addison—more than once—all he could think about was Lexie. The sex with Addison hadn't been that good, and he didn't know if it was because there was nothing between them anymore, or because of how mind blowing it had been when it came to Lexie. He was no longer the same man he had once been before Little Grey came into his life.

He had never experienced that kind of intimacy before, and he had a lot of partners in his life time. He was Mark Sloan. King of the sheets, the legendary sex god himself—and yet—it was Lexie Grey that brought him to his knees and changed everything in his life. She changed him as a whole.

He had to believe that she was out here and ok. He just had to find her, and once he did, he was going to make sure she understood that this was it. It was her and him. Together forever. That nothing else mattered. He would wait until she was ready for a family. For however long it would take, just as long as she was by his side and loved him.

"Hello," he called once he reached the large wreckage part of the plane.

"Mark?"

Cristina Yang stood up from behind a large part of what appeared to be the wing of the plane. She looked relatively ok outside of a gash to her head, and her arms filled with cuts and bruises. She had blood on her scrubs, but he couldn't immediately identify any life-threatening injuries.

"Is it just you and me?" he asked, hoping her answer was no.

"Robbins, too," she answered. "Come on, I need your help," she beckoned.

He climbed over large pieces of the plane's debris, holding his side as he did. When he rounded the part of the plane—which he now confirmed to be one of the plane's wings—he saw what had Cristina bent over in the first place.

Arizona Robbins was sitting down, her back leaning against the wing of the plane her both legs outstretched. She had superficial cuts to the side of her head and face, but it was her leg that had him extremely worried. She had a large open wound from her ankle up all the way to her mid-knee. Her eyes were glassed over, and he could see the signs that her body was going into shock.

He kneeled down in front of her, but looked to Cristina. "Has she told you anything?"

Cristina shook her head. "I have been only been able to get a few words from her here and there," she answered.

Mark looked down at her leg. "Have you located anyone else?"

Cristina again shook her head. "No. I wanted to go and look, but I can't without making sure she is stable first."

Mark agreed. Arizona's open wound on her leg would only get worse the longer it went untreated. They could only do minimal care out here in the woods until they were rescued and taken to a hospital for proper treatment. He looked heavenward and sent up a silent prayer that someone was already aware of the fact that their plane hadn't landed by now and they were sending out search and rescue teams to look for them.

"Here," Cristina announced, setting the red and orange medical trauma bag open next to him.

Even though Cristina had completed her residency, passed her boards, and was being wooed by several other hospitals, she was referring to him as the most senior attending to take over and handle the situation. It was one of the hardest things he was going to have to do in that moment. Not the dressing of the wound, per say, but having to pause on looking for Lexie to help Arizona. As a doctor, and his best friend's wife, he knew what he needed to do…it was wrestling with the decision that while he needed to stay—that meant that Lexie could be out there and in critical need and he wasn't looking for her.

He wanted to send Cristina on to start looking for the others too. He could see it written as clear as day on her face as well. She was worried about her person—if Meredith had survived or not—and she hadn't been able to leave Arizona's side either until she was completely stable.

"Hey Robbins," he said gently, as his hand came up towards her leg. She winced slightly, but sat there completely dazed. "Robbins," he coaxed gently, his voice calm and assertive.

Her eyes moved towards his. He gave an inward sigh of relief that she was still in there somewhere. "They're dead."

Mark's stomach clenched. "Who's dead?" he asked hesitantly.

Arizona sobbed. "The pilots." Her shoulders shook as tears streamed down her face. "The Captain he died instantly. I could see that from here. I couldn't do anything," she said frantically, her eyes wild. "The co-pilot…he was screaming for help, Mark. I couldn't move myself. I tried…I tried, but I couldn't. I tried to talk to him…to tell him to hang on, that help would be on the way." Her lip trembled as more tears flowed from her eyes. "Then he stopped talking. He stopped talking, and hasn't talked for the last—" –she looked at her hand and Mark did to, already knowing she wasn't wearing any watch— "—I don't know how long it's been," she confirmed.

Mark looked back to the plane to where the pilots were sitting and even from here, he could see that both had expired. Their bodies were lifeless, slumped in their seats held by their seatbelts, their skin already turning a paler shade with a twinge of blue.

"I'm sorry, Robbins, but right now, I need to get you treated, so we can look for the others," he said.

Arizona shook her head, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. "I'm married to an orthopedic surgeon and I can see the bone sticking out of my leg," she noted, wiping the back of her mouth with her hand.

"We'll get you back to Callie, Robbins. She is going to patch you up, and we are all going to be ok," he assured.

Her hand reached out to his. "I don't want to lose my leg," she whispered.

He nodded. "I know. I am going to do everything in my power to ensure that doesn't happen. I need you to stay with me, and keep fighting."

She wiped her tear away. "Okay."

Mark made quick work of trying to wrap her leg as best as he could with the supplies that he had in his trauma bag. He gave her a shot of morphine, whatever antibiotics he had, satisfied with what he could do for her right now. He would need to check her bandages later again, but for now, he and Cristina needed to see if they could locate, Meredith, Derek and Lexie.

Mark pulled Cristina aside. "I need to try and find Lexie. Can you see if you can search for Meredith and Derek and we will meet back here?" he paused. "Before dark to set up for camp if not rescued before then."

"Do you think anyone is actually out there looking for us?" Cristina asked.

"I have to hope," he said.

They both stopped when they heard a distant sounding of a bang against metal.

"Did you hear that?" Cristina asked.

Mark looked up and listened. The bang came again. "Yeah, I heard it. You go that way, and I'll check this one out," he said.

Cristina grabbed her trauma bag, and he bent back down for the one that he had used with Arizona and shoved all the supplies back in.

"Robbins, I will be right back. I have to go and check for the others," he informed.

"Ok…I'll be right here…it's not like I can go anywhere anyway," she replied, looking down at her wrapped leg.

He squeezed her hand, and then stood up and started moving towards the sound.

Monday – 6:30am (Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital)

Lexie rubbed at her eyes as she stood waiting for the elevator. She didn't get any sleep last night. Not after he confession, and not after she had gone to Derek and cried her eyes out that she had felt the whole situation with Mark was hopeless. Even this morning, she still felt hopeless.

What was worse, was that she was with Derek on his rotation indefinitely on neuro cases, and Mark was his best friend. It was going to be an endless loop of constantly having to be around, while they talked about Julia and how happy Mark was with her. How they were going to move in together, get married, and have lots of babies, all while she was left behind.

Again.

Lexie thought back to her and Derek's patient that had the brain aneurysm that was leaking—Justine—who also happened to be a world renown novelist. She had gotten hooked on her romance story while trying to convince her to have the surgery per Derek's direction. The case had been so profound to her at the time—because Justine could have been writing about her life.

Her lead character—Kate—having two guys that she had to choose which of the them she was destined to be with. It frustrated Lexie that Nathan—the good-looking, nice and reliable guy—wasn't going to be the man that was chosen in the end. Instead, Kate would choose the man back in time who also happened to be a criminal. Because the criminal was her soulmate.

Mark wasn't a criminal, but they didn't work. Most of the time they made each other miserable because they were in different places and wanted different things. He was older, in a different spot in his life—wanting to settle down and have kids. He was already accomplished. He already made a name for himself. He had nothing to prove.

She did. She still had to fight to make a name for herself. She had to fight to prove that because her last name was Grey, that she could measure up to a woman that she had no biological or relationship too, because she had been a surgical god at Seattle Grace. Just like her daughter was turning out to be.

Then, there was Jackson Avery. Jackson who was nice, good, and really liked her. He treated Lexie well. He wanted to be with her and make a life with her. He did everything that any girl would dream of having in a boyfriend, and yet…that wasn't enough. She should want to choose Jackson. She should want to be with him.

It would never work out…because as much as she tried to fit that round peg in the square hole, Jackson Avery and her were never meant to be. Just like Nathan and Kate in Justine's love story, were also never meant to be.

The door to the elevator dinged and opened, and Lexie felt her heart drop all the way into her stomach. Derek Shepherd and Mark Sloan were in the elevator. Their faces looked just as stunned as hers seeing her on the other end. She wanted to bolt. She wanted to run for the stairs, but her feet propelled her forward, and before she knew what she was doing, the doors shut behind her.

She immediately turned away from her brother-in-law and her former lover, and looked to the ceiling praying that the doors would reopen as soon as possible to get her out of this situation. The continued silence was deafening. Her mouth opened, she bit her lip, and told herself for the millionth time that she would not breakdown. She would not cry.

It didn't stop the hurting that even behind her, Mark couldn't say anything. Not even a "hi." He was just going to continue to pretend that she did not pour her heart out to him hours before. Asking him to love her. Asking him to realize that they were Alex and Kate in the novel and they belonged together.

It wasn't fair.

When the doors opened, sparing her from any more pain, she raced out of there. It was worse when he didn't even attempt to follow her to talk to her.

Wednesday – 2:40pm (Somewhere between Boise and Seattle - 40 minutes after the crash)

Lexie's eyes opened. She felt dazed, confused, and now pain was starting to take hold over her. She smelled the copper smell of blood first, the side of her head dripping with what she knew was her own blood.

She tried to move both her arms and body, panic settling in when only half her body and left arm was moveable. She looked around but didn't see anything but a wooden terrain with pieces of what used to be their plane lying around her.

She tried to take a deep breath, turning back to the source of what was keeping her pinned down. A part of the plane was holding down her shoulder and right side of her body. She tried to use her left arm to nudge the metal off, but it was too heavy to budge, and she was too weak, thanks to the continued blood loss to the cut at the top of her head.

Her left arm—her free arm—reached up to feel for the cut. She winced the moment she even touched the outer area, the swelling from the edge of the wound stopped her from probing any further. She tried again to wiggle her body out from underneath the piece of the plane, but had no luck.

She tried to shove down her panic, but she was alone, scared, and in a place, she had no idea where she was, or if anyone would be able to find her. Her thoughts instantly turned to her family, friends…and Mark. She strained her neck to try and see if he was around where she was and if he was injured, unconscious…or worse—dead.

She shook those thoughts away. She couldn't think like that right now. She had to believe that deep down inside that if she was here and in relatively ok shape, that the rest of her family had to be too.

"Mark," she croaked, her voice raspy and dry.

Nothing.

She tried to clear her throat again and called his name a little bit louder.

Again nothing.

Her eyes started to fill with water, but she held it back. She had to find a way to get herself out from underneath the metal so she could try and find everyone else. Focus on something to do to help her get free would keep the panic from taking over her.

She wasn't finding anything around her—or within reach of her—that would help shift the weight of the metal off her shoulder and her body. The panic was starting to threaten to take over again, knowing that her chance of getting out of her own predicament was either by one of her colleagues finding her, or if a search and rescue team was able to find her location. If she was out here by herself with pieces of the plane, there was no telling how many other areas also had portions of the crash with her colleagues as well.

She had to focus on something else. Get her mind on something else, other than she was trapped with no one in sight to help rescue her.

Her mind went back to the plane right before they had crashed. She had been so mad, hurt, and stubborn when Mark had come over to talk to her. She didn't want to talk to him, because he didn't feel that she had been important enough to talk to for almost two days after she told him she was still madly in love with him.

Now, there was a real possibility that she was going to die out here in the woods without anyone knowing. Trapped under a piece of freaking chewed up plane. The worst part was she didn't ever find out whether Mark Sloan loved her back.

Her mind wandered. Was he out here trapped, wondering the same thing she was wondering right now? Was he injured and in a lot of pain, and she couldn't be there to help treat his wounds? She swallowed. Did he survive the crash at all? Would she make it out of here, only to stumble across his body and realize that he was already gone from this world? The questions kept pouring out of her mind like an avalanche.

The tears that she had been trying to hold back were streaming down her face. She hated uncertainties. She hated not knowing, and right now, she hated Mark Sloan for not telling her if he loved her or not. If she was going to die in some woods somewhere between Boise and Seattle, she wanted to at least die knowing the person she loved, might have loved her back.

She could still feel her blood trickling down the side of her face. It was slower than when she initially had woken up, but still bleeding all the same. She tried to remain clam, the doctor in her working over every scenario available. Even with her arm pinned, she sighed in relief, that she still had feeling in her arm and could wiggle her fingers against the tingling sensation. If she didn't remove the heavy piece of metal soon and allow blood flow, things could get progressively worse.

The longer her cut continued to bleed and she remained out here, the worse it would get. Being out in the open with predators that she wasn't even sure she knew about, started to make her feel more and more vulnerable—especially being all alone. She hated not knowing what had happened to everyone else. Who was still alive or needed help. The panic took over her before she could really stop it.

"Hello!" She cried. "Can anyone hear me? Mark!"

She was met with more silence. "No," she exclaimed, trying to wiggle her body again. "I can't go out like this…please," her voice broke when all her efforts did nothing.

"Get it together, Lex. You have to get it get it together."

She sniffled as she looked around again for anything that could help her. Down by her left foot, she noticed a rock the size of her fist. Using the back of her heel on her sneaker, she maneuvered the rock so that she could push it up towards her butt. She strained with her free arm to grab, grunting, and wincing as more pressure strained on her trapped arm.

After an additional reach, her left fingers made contract with the rock, until she was able to wiggle it closer to her palm. She grabbed the jagged stone in her hand, rejoicing that she now had an object to help her try and alert any other survivors of her whereabouts.

She started banging the rock against the metal every few seconds and prayed that someone would hear her.

Wednesday – 3:00pm (Somewhere between Boise and Seattle - 1 hour after the crash)

Mark stopped every few minutes to listen for the sound of the clang. He adjusted the strap again, catching his breath when the next clang occurred. He had already been walking for ten minutes trying to locate the source and make sure he wasn't going in the opposite direction. The sound was almost distant; as if it could an isolated echo. Unless he was able to notice any signs of debris in the direction he was walking, he stopped to keep listening.

"Help!"

Mark froze and what sounded like a female voice. Not just any voice, but Lexie's voice. He was hoping that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, because right now he wouldn't feel at ease until he knew that Lexie Grey was alive and going to make it.

"Lexie!"

He waited to hear if he got a reply, but heard nothing. He moved towards the direction he thought he heard the sound and cry for help and called out again.

"Lexie!"

A second later, rapid taps on metal came in a flurry. "Mark?"

Her voice sounded so weak and strained, but it was her voice. He knew it. "Lex. I hear you. Keep banging and keep shouting. I am coming to you," he shouted, his adrenaline renewed at knowing she was alive.

He picked up his pace as she did as he asked and kept up the combination of making noise against the metal and calling out his name. He used the broken debris to continue to guide his way.

"Mark!"

Her voice was closer now, and continuing to getting closer. "I hear you…I'm almost there."

He stopped at the next big tree, pushing his trauma bag behind his hip. Up ahead, he saw a few scattered pieces of the plane, and then what he thought was her leg and a sneaker. He ran.

"Lex."

"Mark," she cried in relief when his voice was right on top of her.

He dropped the trauma bag when he got to the piece of metal where her legs were sticking out and ran over towards her.

"Hey," he said, dropping to his knees so he was beside her.

"Hi," she greeted her tears still free flowing, a sanguine chuckle escaping her lips. "You're alive," she observed.

"I'm alive," he confirmed, instantly reaching for her head to inspect the gash.

She tensed when his fingers touched the outer part of the cut. "Is it still bleeding badly?"

"Yes," he answered truthfully. "I'm going to need to stitch it."

"I'm stuck," she informed him, her tone wary.

He abandoned her cut for now, and flattened his body so that his chest was directly on the ground. He looked over her chest and saw the piece of metal that had her arm and body pinned down.

"It's too heavy," she said, her body involuntary trying to pull free again. "I can't get it out."

"Don't move," he ordered. "I'll be right back. Let me see if I can get something to give us leverage."

She went wide-eyed, her left hand reaching out to grab hold of his. "No, please don't leave me," she begged.

He squeezed her hand back. "Lex, I am not going to leave you. I promise. I am just going to step right over here and grab something I can use to try and shimmy you out." He waited until her gaze looked up and met his. His free hand cupped her cheek. "I promise you."

She nodded, finally letting go after he gave her one more reassuring squeeze of the hand. He pushed back to his knees and then to his feet and looked around the area for anything. He noticed a thicker branch that had been snapped and fallen down when the plane's debris had smacked into the trees. He grunted as he lifted the branch, and dragged it until he came back around and was facing Lexie again.

"Ok, Lex, I need you to tuck your legs up as far as you can to your butt," he directed.

She did as instructed, her left leg easily coming up, her right leg a little harder with her entire right side pinned. Mark moved the branch just below her legs, until he shimmied it just under the space between her body and the metal.

"Lex, I don't know how long I will be able to hold this…so as soon I am able to lift, I need you to pull and roll away," he said.

She met his gaze. "Ok."

"On the count of three."

As soon as he got to one, he grunted, using all the strength he could muster to leverage the metal off of her. Lexie heard the sound of wood breaking, but at the first feel of the metal easing off her shoulder, she began to pull her arm and shoulder free from the heavy object.

Mark grunted. "Lex…"

She did a final yank of her arm and tucked it to her body, the pain shooting up her arm and shoulder as she rolled away. Mark let the branch go, falling on his ass, as his hand came to his chest, his breathing ragged. He rolled onto his side until he was near Lexie who was motionless on her stomach.

"Lex," he said, as he reached out and placed his hand on her hip, pushing until she was on her back.

"I'm ok," she whispered, clutching her arm to her body.

He scanned her from head to toe. The gash on her head needed to be cleaned now that more dirt and twigs from rolling around on the ground were sticking to the cacked-on blood. Her arm that had been pinned under the metal had cuts and bruises, and she held it protectively against her chest and stomach. Her chest was heaving up and down in rapid succession. Her expression was contorted in pain no matter how much she tried to put on a brave face for him.

He was tired and in incredible pain himself, but nothing would stop him from making sure that she was attended too and ok. He grimaced as he used his abs to go to a sitting position.

"Stay right here, I am going to grab the trauma bag and then we are going to tend to your wounds," he uttered.

Once he grabbed the bag, he set it up it in a spot that he could have Lexie positioned properly against a tree for support, while he attended to her wounds. When he had everything set up, he went back to her and helped her to her feet.

"Lean on me," he said, as she clutched her arm and used the good side of her body to lean against his solid frame.

He walked her over to the spot he had picked out, and gently sat her down so that her back was resting against the large tree. As he helped ease her down to a sitting position, her expression frowned as her other good arm came to secure her bad arm.

"I need to clean your wound first, and then we can take a look at your arm," he noted.

"It doesn't feel broken," she guessed. "I think it's definitely dislocated."

He nodded. "Then we will have to set it and make sure we find something to keep it stable."

Her head leaned back against the tree, as he started to pull out gauze pads, saline solution, and a sutures kit. They both sat in silence as he started to make quick work of cleaning the wound. She hissed anytime he got closer to the actual opening of the wound. It was a slow painstaking process for him to have to clean all the dried blood, dirt, and other potential bacteria and poisons out of her open gash.

He felt her eyes rake over him as he started to suture her up. "Are you hurt?" she asked, after clearing her throat.

"Nothing that won't heal," he replied evasively.

"Is…is everyone else…alive?" she asked.

His lips pressed into a hard line. "When I left, Meredith and Derek were still unaccounted for. Cristina seems to be ok, but Arizona has a pretty surmisable wound to her leg with her bone exposed." He paused. "We lost both of the pilots."

Her eyes casted down as she nodded. "Do you think…Meredith and Derek are alive?"

He exhaled. "I hope so. Cristina and I split up so I could find you, and she could look for them. Once I get you cleaned up and get you back to the main crash, I can help her if she still hasn't located them. We need to find them before nightfall, or…" he let his voice trail off, not wanting to paint the rest of that picture.

"Thank you."

His brows creased together. "For what?"

She lifted her gaze to look at him. His hands slowed, but continued to work on stitching her wound. "For coming to find me. For rescuing me," she answered.

There was a vulnerability in her expression, and even though he wanted to stop everything and have that conversation they should have had after she had professed her feelings for him, his need to make sure that she was cared for and protected was a much stronger need for him to worry about first.

"Always," he said.

He tied off the suture, taking a fresh pad out of his trauma kit and placed the bandage over her head. "That will do for now, but I will have to take a look at it again later," he explained. He paused, and then looked at her shoulder. "Ok, let's take a look."

He tried his best to go slow and be as gentle as he could, but every time she would frown or wince it was like a stab to the gut. He didn't like the various purple and blue bruising he could see on her neck and shoulder as her scrub top shifted while he performed a few more tests. Once he was satisfied, he let her hold her arm back to her chest.

He groaned. "Between you and Robbins, I really wish Callie was here right now to be able to do this for me."

"How bad?" she asked.

"It's not broken. But it is dislocated. We are going to have to set it," he confirmed.

The look on her face was the same feeling he had deep inside. Dread. Popping a dislocated shoulder back into place was extremely painful, but once it was done, he knew she would feel a whole lot better. He really wished Callie was here so she could do this, but he was also glad she wasn't a part of the catastrophe. He had only had to do this once or twice his entire medical career. When it came to Lexie, there was absolutely no room for error.

Mark searched back in the bag for the vile of morphine and an empty syringe. "For the pain," he said, once he brought the needle to her arm. "Look at me, Lex," he ordered.

He knew she hated needles. It was a funny notion considering that she was a doctor. She had no problem poking others, but when it came to her, she hated them coming anywhere near her. Her eyes met his, and he stared right back at her letting her know she would be ok. That he had her. He nodded letting her know that the pinch would be coming and injected it in as soon as she gave him her approving nod in return.

After a few minutes, he helped her to her feet, waiting until she faced him and met his gaze. "It's ok, Mark," she said, her hand resting on his forearm at whatever expression must've crossed his face.

"I'm sorry," he replied woefully, knowing that he was going to have to cause her more pain.

"I know."

His hand grabbed hold of her wrist on her bad arm, his eyes never leaving hers. Her lips fell open in anticipation of what was to come, but she never looked away. His brows drew together, his mouth twisting as he slowly eased her arm away from her chest until it was at the right spot.

She braced for the pain, sucking in her bottom lip as Mark once again counted down from three. When he got to one and rotated her arm, pain lacerated her shoulder, and she cried out in agony. With one final movement, she heard the pop of her shoulder clicking back into place, and then the pain ceased.

Water slipped from her eyes, as she let out a let out a gasp from the sudden relief. Mark eased her back against the tree for support. She watched as he walked back over to the spot where she had been trapped and bent down to pull out the branch, he had used to free her from the wreckage. He snapped the flatter part he was looking for against his muscular thigh before returning back to her side.

He bent down to the trauma bag, and pulled out a large wad of elastic bandage. "Can you stand?" he asked.

She nodded, still holding her arm closer to her body. She pushed off from the tree, Mark holding her steady until she found her balance. He gently took her arm and laid it on top of the flat branch, having her hold it while he wrapped the bandage around her arm and upper body. He made sure to be attentive and methodical in his wrapping, fully aware the weight of her gaze was upon him as his hands caused warm sensations through everywhere he touched.

"How does that feel?" he asked once he was done.

She gave a half-smile. "It's good. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied.

He started to stuff his equipment back into the bag, trying to ignore the throbbing ache in his own chest. He turned away from Lexie's watchful gaze, zipping up the bag and standing. He draped the strap over his shoulder.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded. "Where too?"

"Back to camp site. Hopefully, Cristina has located Meredith and Derek. We need to get a fire started and settle in before it gets dark," he answered.

"Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think anyone is going to come and rescue us?" she asked.

He didn't know how to really answer her question. He hoped and believed that by now Owen was made aware that their plane hadn't arrived back and that they were already conducting a thorough search. All planes had GPS and tracking systems as well as black boxes, so he had to believe they would have some idea of their last known coordinates before the crash.

He had to hold onto that hope, because he wanted to make sure that he had a chance to have that conversation with her and that they had a chance when they got back to figure things out.

"Yes. Yes, I do," he replied.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Looking forward to your reviews and feedback as always. :)