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A/N: Here we go! I hope you enjoy. Please give me your honest feedback.

Chapter 1

Lexie

There are moments in a doctor's life when they think they have seen it all. The worst kind of cases. The hopeless cases. These are the cases that stick with you because either you made a difference in someone's life, or you unfortunately were the one that couldn't save them.

Lexie Grey was used to this kind of thinking with every case she had. Every time she had a gut-wrenching loss, she would take a moment to let the tears of sadness, anger, and guilt at not being able to save her patient flow, before she ultimately had to go and tell the family the news. She took those losses personally, and used it to be a better doctor.

When she saved a life, she rejoiced with tears of joy. Another patient lived another day. Had an opportunity to create another memory: fall in love, get married, have kids, create change, and leave their mark on their world. There was no better feeling in the world then getting to be a chapter in her patient's story.

At twenty-seven, and one of the best neurosurgeons in all of Seattle—growing a name for herself across the country—it didn't leave much of a personal life. From medical school, internship, residency, and now finally an attending for the last year—Lexie had spent all of her free time working to be the best surgeon she could be.

As she watched her colleagues and friends at Seattle Grace move on with their lives and get married and have kids, she volunteered for late night shifts and clawed her way into once in a life time surgery that would otherwise not fall into her lap.

She often wondered if there was more to life than just being a great doctor. Outside of an occasional hook up here and there, she hadn't ever found anyone that she loved more—or just as much—as she did being a surgeon.

"You volunteered for another late shift too?" Meredith asked, as she approached the nurses station dropping her chart on the desk to make notes.

Lexie had been sitting behind the desk, cross referencing some information from a medical journal she had been researching for an inoperable tumor case that had been sent to her from another neurosurgeon at Seattle Presbyterian. Dr. Steven Adams, wouldn't even consider the surgery, but told Lexie's patient that she might be crazy enough to try.

"Nothing better to do," Lexie replied without even looking up from the screen.

Meredith grinned. "No wonder we're dubbed the crazy Grey's around here. I guess when you favor guts and gore over having a personal life, people think you are kind of crazy."

Lexie forced a smile, but it didn't really reach her eyes. Did people really think she was crazy? She loved her big sister—who was probably the only other person who truly understood her passion to be a surgeon—but not at the expense that people she respected might think that made her twisted and crazy.

"Is it really so bad to have a passion to want to help people?" Lexie asked.

Meredith shrugged, writing in her chart. "Of course not. But I also love the guts and gore."

Lexie loved her bigger sister. She always had. Though Meredith was four years older than she was, they had always been close. Their mother, Ellis Grey, had been a general surgical badass—just as Meredith was proving to be—making a surgeon the only career that both sisters had ever wanted to be.

While Meredith loved general surgery like their mother, Lexie had always been drawn towards the brain. She also had to admit that part of it was also a bit of a competition, in that a specialty such as neurosurgery, held far more prestigious accolades and tougher cases then general. It made their friendly competition and need to push themselves to be the best they could be in their fields that much stronger.

"And that's why your single," Lexie shot back.

Meredith closed her chart, placed it in the bin next to her and placed her pen in her pocket. "Yeah, well, what's your excuse?"

Lexie leaned back in her chair. "Apparently, I have a thing for hopeless cases."

Meredith leaned her elbows on the bar height desk. "What are you working on now?"

She sighed. "Dr. Adams sent me an inoperable tumor wrapped around my patient's spine," she replied.

Meredith whistled. "That's a risky surgery, if it can even be done," she noted.

It was the exact thing her big sister would say in a passive aggressive way to want to push her own self to find a way to make the surgery successful, save her patient, and prove her sister wrong. Even though Lexie knew her mother favored Meredith—never actually said it out loud—the signs were there. Meredith had always gotten the praise or favoritism in getting to scrub in on rare and difficult cases—because Meredith chose her same specialty—while she was going prove to her mother that she was a force to be reckoned with without any assistance thrown her way.

"I'll make it happen," Lexie replied determined.

"Or you'll paralyze them," Meredith rebutted.

She shot her sister an exasperated look. "Nice."

"Just looking out for you, sis," her tone a mixture of sweetness with a little bit of her competitive cockiness thrown in too.

"Love you, too," Lexie said, standing up from the chair, and picking up the stack of journals in her hand. She had a long night of studying ahead of her.

"I'm going to grab a coffee and then you want to talk strategy for covering the pit tonight?" Meredith asked.

"Sure. Grab me a cup too?"

"Sure thing. Be back soon," Meredith replied, taking off towards the cafeteria.

Lexie would be more than happy to let her sister take the lead in the pit—including any interesting surgery cases that might come in tonight—if that meant she could get some leeway on researching this inoperable tumor case.

Her patient was a twenty-year old ballerina, who had her whole life ahead of her. She was already starting to experience bouts of extreme pain, neurological problems and paralysis. At first, her patient thought it was because of her strenuous dancing regime, but as the pain progressed and got worse, her patient knew something was wrong and far more serious.

She sighed in frustration as she mulled over the case. If she did attempt to operate, the likelihood that she would be able to remove the tumor without paralyzing her patient—based on the location of the tumor—was extremely high. It was the epitome of trying to remove a needle in a haystack.

"Dr. Grey?"

Lexie turned around to face one of the senior RNs on the night shift. She was a ten-year veteran at Seattle Grace, and Lexie liked working with her, because she was efficient, talented, and knew what she was doing. It made her life so much easier.

"Yes, Rebecca."

"There is an incoming trauma. Chief Hunt just called down and wanted me to let you know…this is a high-profile client that is coming in. He will be coming in with a bit of an entourage," Rebecca responded her information coming out sort of cagey.

Lexie dropped her charts and immediately started heading for the pit, to dress in her yellow scrubs and gloves. As soon as she stepped outside of the emergency doors, the ambulance pulled up with what Lexie also assumed was the entourage that her RN had referenced. Only, this entourage was three large SUVs of men in suits and looked to be supporting badges.

The paramedic jumped out of the ambulance first with his chart in his hand.

"What do we have?" Lexie asked, as the paramedic handed her the chart, turning back to help is partner unload the gurney.

"Male, in mid to late-thirties. Vitals stable, extreme blunt force trauma to the head and body," the paramedic answered.

Lexie was at the gurney as soon as it was unloaded to the ground. One of the things that Lexie always prided herself on, as a doctor, was that she was level-headed and calm especially in the most extreme situations. This was not one of those situations.

As she looked down at her patient—bloodied and bruised from his face to his arms and what she assumed also be most of his body—she couldn't quite understand why her feet suddenly stilled. Her head tilted to the side, just as her patient opened his swollen eyes, the softest and deepest blue she had ever seen. Even through all the blood surrounding his face, she could see the defined jawline, and masculine facial features. His head bobbed back and forth, before he too settled his gaze directly on hers. She felt that for the first time, her heart truly started to beat.

The paramedic raised his brow. "Doctor?"

Lexie blinked; snapping herself out of her momentarily frozen state. When she looked back at her patient this time, her carefully slotted doctor demeanor was back in place.

"Sir, can you tell me your name?" Lexie asked her patient.

He cleared his throat and swallowed slowly. "Mark Sloan," he answered, his voice hoarse and cracking.

"Well, Mr. Sloan, I am going to take good care of you," she replied. She turned back to the paramedic "Let's get him inside."

As they helped her wheel him into the trauma one room, Rebecca, and few of the fellow interns on duty followed behind her into the room. Lexie did a quick neurological exam flashing her light into his eyes, barking orders for scans and request to get Jackson Avery down here for a plastics consult due to his wounds on his body.

"What do we got?" Jackson asked running into the room.

"Multiple contusions to the face and body," Lexie answered. "He's got a brain bleed that I need to get him up to surgery right now," she informed.

"My god, this guy looks like he was tortured," Jackson commented.

"Because he was," an unfamiliar voice in the room said.

Lexie and Jackson looked up in the direction of the voice, both their faces sporting a confused expression.

"Who are you?" Jackson asked. "You can't be in here."

Jackson looked back at Lexie and then around the room noticing for the first time, the outer part of the room was lined with men in suits and badges.

"Who are all these guys? Is this man under arrest?" Jackson's question was aimed at anyone in the room.

One of the men with a badge closest to the door, whose hands were folded in front his stomach, cleared his throat and answered, "Not at this time."

"Then get out of the room," Jackson ordered. When no one budged, he accented his demand further. "Now!"

"Dr. Avery, I need to get him to surgery now," Lexie stressed.

Jackson stepped away, taking his gloves off his hands. "Go. I can tend to all his other injuries after you finish your surgery."

Lexie nodded. "Let's go…let's get our patient prepped for surgery."

Lexie followed closely behind her patient, her steps quickening to keep up until she felt a presence behind her. When she turned before going behind the "personnel only" door, she came face to face with the man she had seen riding with her patient in the ambulance and again confirming her and Jackson's suspicion that he had been brutally beaten.

She raised her arm out to stop the man from coming any closer. Like Mark Sloan; he was an attractive man. If she had to guess, the man standing in front of her was around the same age as her Mark—with extremely gorgeous wavy black hair, green eyes the perfect color of an emerald, and a hardened jaw.

"You can't go beyond this point," she advised, bringing him to a halt.

"I am not leaving him," the man answered sternly.

Lexie pointed in the direction down the hall. "You can wait in the waiting room, and I will update you as soon as I am out of surgery. Now, I need to go and save your friend's life."

The man swallowed, nodded, and took a step back. Lexie lowered her arm and met his gaze, trying to tell him with her eyes that she had this. That she was the best his friend would get for his care. She turned on her heels and headed through the double doors.

A couple of hours later, Lexie finished a successful surgery on her patient, stopping the bleed and certain that Mark Sloan would make a full recovery. She had stayed while Jackson attended to the injuries that needed stitching and his attention, before having him moved to a more private room on their ad hoc floor that they reserved for more VIP clients or those that were under constant surveillance.

Lexie took off towards the waiting area to find Mark's friend that would no doubt be waiting for the update on him. When she entered into the waiting area, not only was Mark's friend there, but half of the entourage that had arrived with him. Mark's friend clocked Lexie the moment she walked into the hallway.

"How is he?" the friend asked.

"He's stable. He is just coming out of surgery, and we are getting him set up in a room now," she responded.

"I want to see him as soon as possible," he said.

Lexie shoved her hands in her lab coat. "What is your name?"

He studied her for a second, his eyes squinting before he replied, "Derek Shepherd."

"Well, Mr. Shepherd, I'm sorry, but only family is allowed into the room," she advised looking past him and at some of the other men who were watching. "And law enforcement it would seem," she added.

"I am family," Derek pressed.

Her brows shot up. "I understand that you care about him—"

"He's my brother," he chimed in, cutting her off. "His mother died when he was young and his father bailed right after. My family took him in. We've been brothers ever since we were kids," he supplied.

Lexie studied him for a moment, before nodding knowing Derek was not going to take no for an answer. It was late, and she was already getting tired as it was having been up close to twenty-four hours already.

"Alright, follow me," she said, turning to walk towards the in-patient rooms.

"How long before he wakes up?" Derek asked once they were inside his room.

There had already been two more law enforcement men standing outside the door before they had even arrived. Lexie thought it was odd, considering he had just been moved to the room. As soon as she checked on Mark, she was going to make a point to find Chief Hunt and find out what the hell was going on.

"For now, there was significant swelling in his brain that still needs a chance to calm down. I was able to stop the bleed and repair any damage he occurred. If his vitals remain stable, he should be able to wake up on his own in the next few hours," she answered.

She watched as Derek went over to his friend, standing next to him by the side of his bed. Mark's head was bandaged, his right arm wrapped in white breathable bandages after Jackson had tended to the worst of his gashes and cuts.

"Thank you," Derek said.

She remembered thinking to herself that Mark had to be wrapped up into something very serious to have come to the hospital in the shape he was in. As it was, he was lucky he hadn't sustained any broken bones, and that she had gotten to his brain bleed just in time. The kind of beating he had taken was one that had been horrifying in nature, based on the number of bruises turning different shades of green, purple, blue, and black. That alone told her that his injuries weren't given to him all at one time. Her patient had suffered, and for a longer period of time.

"Of course." She turned to leave, but then paused and turned back. "I'm on shift all night, I will be keeping an eye on him. I assure you," she emphasized.

She left the room, and was glad when she saw her Chief of Surgery, Owen Hunt, standing out by the nurse's station waiting for her.

"Are you going to tell me what is going on? Who that patient is?" she asked, pointing to Mark's room.

Owen looked up at the men standing outside of his door, and then grabbed her arm and pulled her further away so their discussion wasn't privy to the others. Lexie knew whatever was going on was big. There had to be at least ten to fifteen law enforcement officers here. Not just regular cops, but the badges, suits, and weapons told her these were Feds. A quick glance at one of the badges she had seen before stepping into Mark's room told her these feds were from the FBI.

"That's Mark "The Protector" Sloan," Owen replied.

Lexie arched a brow as if she was waiting for him to explain more. When he didn't, she asked, "Am I supposed to know who that is?"

Owen looked back to the two feds who were watching them and then lowered his voice as he met her eye contact. "He's the major crime boss here in Seattle," he answered.

Lexie laughed, a full-on laugh. She legitimately, thought that her Chief was playing a trick on her just to get a rise out of her. It was only two months until April, so it wouldn't be far-fetched for an elaborate April fool's joke. She had to give him credit that hiring the men in suits with real looking badges was a nice touch. When he didn't laugh with her, and his face remained serious in nature, she stopped laughing all together.

"Oh, you're serious," she said. Owen nodded. "Are you really trying to tell me we have a mob boss in our hospital? That guy?" she clarified.

Owen again nodded. "Yes. The FBI is here because what happened to your patient was attempted murder. Apparently, there has been a war brewing among the different criminal organizations. You take out the head, others are hoping to claw for his place."

Her lips pursed together. "Is…is he under arrest?"

"No. From what I gather, if they had enough, they would have arrested him by now. They are worried that when whomever ordered the hit finds out that he didn't succumb to his injuries that they might come here to finish the job."

There was something in the way her boss made that statement that made her eyes snap up towards his. "Do you think that is a creditable possibility?"

Owen sighed, his hands coming to his hips as he looked past her and back towards her patient's room. "I don't know. If the feds are taking it serious enough to send us half a damn army to protect him, then I am going to take it just as seriously," he said. "Who else knows about the patient?"

"Just me, Dr. Avery, and Rebecca our RN. Dr. Avery had to treat his more serious injuries," she answered.

"No one else is to know about who the patient is or why he is here. Do you understand me?" she nodded automatically. Owen turned to leave, but then he half-turned back. "Oh, and the feds are going to want to talk to you about his injuries and your treatment plan. If you need anything, you come and get me immediately. Understand?"

"Understood," she said.

Lexie hadn't made it far before Owen had been right and she was intercepted by the feds to talk about the list of injuries that Mark Sloan had sustained. She reminded them that without a warrant or permission from Mark himself, she was not at liberty to provide any medical information. She did however; advise based on her opinion that he would make a full recovery.

Something in the conversation and the way the feds were handling the situation—the way they talked about her patient—felt off. She wasn't getting that they thought of him like a terrible criminal she figured he would be—especially if he was in fact some major boss—but more like someone to cater too. She wondered if they were looking to use the situation as leverage to turn one crime boss against the others.

She wasn't familiar with mafias and crime families, but she had seen enough movies to know that once you were a rat, you were as good as dead if you turned against your family. Had that been what Mark Sloan had done? If he was the head of the crime organization already, what would cause him to potentially turn on the others? More power?

"Ma'am, I don't need to remind you that your discretion is paramount around your patient and the reason for why he is here," said the lead investigator, Tom Summers, and his partner standing next to him.

"It's Dr. Grey, as opposed to ma'am, and I assure you that I have no interest in whatever it is your patient does outside this hospital other than my concern for his medical well-being," she said, her reply clipped.

"Thank you," Tom said.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to go and check on my patient," she said, leaving the two feds to themselves.

As she walked back into Mark Sloan's room, his friend Derek was sitting in the chair next to his bed. His eyes snapped up in her direction the moment he saw her come into the room.

"I'm just here to do a vitals check," she said, trying to ease the frantic look on his face.

Derek's shoulders visibly relaxed but he stayed with her every movement as she looked over the bandage to his head, checked his eyes, and reviewed his levels and vitals.

"You know, I could take a look at that for you," Lexie said, as she pulled the stethoscope from her ears, and pulled Mark's blanket back up to his chest, her eyes traveling to piece of cloth that was sticking out of Derek's rolled-up sleeve.

Derek's eyes looked down to his forearm, and attempted to pull the long sleeve shirt down to try and cover the cloth. "It's fine."

She marched over, and held out her hand indicating she wanted to look at his arm. "I can see from all the way over there that it's going to need stitching. I can patch this up in here that way you don't have to leave his side," she offered.

He relented with a nod. She turned towards the cabinet in the back of the room and pulled out the supplies she needed to dress and stitch his room. She used the rolling tray in his room to position is arm flat, rolling her medical stool over so she could sit.

Derek winced slightly, after she pulled off the cloth, inspecting the wound and edges of the gash before determining that the skin was good enough to just stitch without having to make any additional repair to the skin beforehand.

"I'm assuming you got this trying to protect him," she guessed, as she pulled out the sutures and gave him a shot to numb the area.

Derek studied her for a second, before his eyes glanced back to Mark, and then back to her. She could tell he was debating on whether to tell her the truth or not. No doubt if he was friends with Mark, probably meant that he too was involved in whatever mob business Mark was involved in as well. She figured he might not be too trusting with feds lurking around every corner, with the ability to try and gain any information to use as leverage against their illegal business activities.

As she started to suture his wound, she couldn't help but think as she looked at Mark and even Derek that neither of them looked like someone that would be involved in organized crime. Not that she knew what someone in the mob would look like, but she couldn't help but think they both had the looks to either be doctors or lawyers that could make them a lot of money the right way.

Derek cleared his throat. "I got the cut trying to free him," he answered.

"So, I'm right that this wasn't because of some accident."

There was a slight shake to his head. "He's not a bad guy," Derek said softly.

Her hands stopped as she met his gaze, his expression willing her to believe this information. "It's not really any of my business," she said dismissively.

"No, but I know the feds out there already clued you in on who he is."

She focused on the stitches and her work. If she did that, she would be able to keep her face neutral and not give away the fact that even though she shouldn't be interested or want to know more about Mark Sloan, she did.

The fact that her patient was a crime boss—involved in lord knows what type of illegal activity—should be enough to make her want to avoid stepping into his room unless absolutely necessary, but there was something about Mark Sloan that kept pulling her here anyway. She couldn't pinpoint that internal gut feeling, and she couldn't avoid it either.

"It's none of my business," she repeated again, almost halfway done with closing up his wound.

"I told you earlier that we were brothers. It's true, maybe not by blood, but we've known each other ever since kindergarten. Even though it was my family that took him in, Mark was always there to protect me and be there for me," Derek explained.

"Is that why they call him "The Protector"?" she asked.

His eyebrow arched up in surprise. "The Protector?"

She flushed at the amusement in his voice. "I said it was none of my business, not that I didn't hear things," she clarified.

"Something like that," he replied evasively.

She tied off the last of the stitch and put a clean bandage over it. She gave him the instructions to ensure that he kept it clean, when to take off the bandage and to follow up with his doctor in the next two weeks to have them properly removed.

"Thank you, Dr. Grey," he said, rolling his sleeve back down his forearm.

She took off her gloves and disposed the remaining supplies in the necessary waste bin. She turned, her hands back in her coat. "For what it's worth, Mr. Shepherd, I'm not here to judge what you or Mr. Sloan do in your personal time, or who you are as people. I'm just here to ensure you have the best medical care while you're in our hospital."

"Mr. Sloan was my father, call me Mark," croaked a raspy voice from the other side of the room.

Lexie and Derek both turned at the sound of the voice, to see her patient—Mark Sloan—was awake his gaze alternating between looking at his friend and then her. For a moment, she had forgotten who she was and why she was here, until a voice in the back of her head whispered and then shouted that she was his doctor and she needed to do her job.

"Your awake," Lexie said.

Real smooth, she cringed inwardly.

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "It would appear so," he replied his gaze falling on her.

She smoothed out her lab coat, taking a deep breath before walking over towards his bed side. She reached for her light in the breast pocket of her coat. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Like I got the shit beaten out of me," he replied.

Derek had come to stand on the opposite side of his bed, his lips turning downward into a frown at his friends' response. She approached Mark with the light, giving him a second to process that she was about to do a check, which he nodded his approval.

It was a process she had done thousands of times before with her patients, both unconscious and conscious, but as she leaned over his bed railing to shine the light in his eyes, her mouth suddenly went dry, and she could feel her pulse quickening—something she hadn't ever recalled happening to her with any of her previous boyfriends or casual hookups.

The way his blue eyes would watch her every movement made her feel like she was back on her first day as an intern when she came to Seattle Grace Hospital. Unsure and worried that she was not doing a good enough job or that she was going to make a mistake.

The thing that Lexie was struggling with the most, was that for some reason she wanted to impress him. She wanted his approval. This was a criminal who was probably on every federal most wanted list, and still, logic was flying right out the window.

She clicked off the light, unable to take his nearness any longer and stood, taking a step or two back to put some space. She gave him a rundown of his injuries and what she had done from a surgical perspective.

"Do you have any questions?" she asked.

"You're a neurosurgeon?" he asked.

Her forehead creased, her lips opening. "Yes," she stammered more out of surprise.

"From the talk of the hospital, Dr. Grey here is the best in the business," Derek added.

Mark glanced at Derek, before looking back at her. "Well, then, Dr. Grey, I guess I am a lucky man that our paths crossed."

Lexie broke the contact first, her chin dipping towards her chest, hoping that Mark Sloan hadn't noticed the fact that he had just made her blush.