Warning: Some mild language but nothing extremely vulgar.

A/N: I always loved Lexie's selflessness and Mark's playful side when it came to her. So here you go!

Thank you for your continued support and wonderful comments/feedback/reviews. You guys are amazing!

Also – I know many of you have been asking how many chapters this story might be. Honestly…not sure. If you all love it and want it to keep going, I can come up with ideas to keep it going…but I am definitely thinking double digits for the current idea's I have floating around in my head. :)

Chapter 4 – Rough Patches

One week later….

It had been a week since they had come out with their relationship, and things were starting to finally calm down. Lexie still experienced some gossip and catty comments from her fellow interns—which she tried her hardest to ignore—when it came to their relationship, but other than that, life at Seattle Grace Hospital was moving on.

Lexie just wished the same for Mark's relationship with Derek. They were professional when it came to their work, but things between them personally had not been the same. They hadn't resumed their weekly get togethers at Joe's with the rest of the guys when it came to getting drinks, and Lexie could tell that he missed talking to his best friend in general. Every time she tried to bring up the subject, he would masterfully change the topic or distract her with his extremely hot body.

Their current Friday night had been low key, Chinese takeout followed by Mark patiently sitting through her DVR of the most recent episode of Sell This House, before deciding to call it a night. She still had studying to do as part of her internship, and he was due to be on early shift in only a couple of hours.

Lexie was sitting in bed with her laptop back on her lap—after Mark had distracted her for a second time with his gorgeous body of his. It really wasn't fair at how he could seriously make everything so sexy. Like breathing. The man had sex appeal with just breathing. It was hard for her to concentrate on things like symptoms related to anaphylactic shock or appendicitis when he was laying there bare from the chest up with his one arm resting behind his head and his other hand holding a medical magazine he was reading.

"You're starring again," he noted not even looking up from what he was reading.

She grinned, not even embarrassed in the slightest that she had been caught—again. "Oops."

He turned the page of his magazine article and reminded her, "You remember what happened the last time you made an 'oops'."

She bit her lip, because she knew exactly what happened not only forty-five minutes ago. He had warned her that if she kept looking at him like he was her favorite treat, he was going to ravish her until she relented and begged for him to take her. She hated that she only lasted mere minutes before she did in fact beg and plead and promise her first born child if that meant he would give her the sweet sweet release she was aching for from him.

"Well, it's not really fair when you are sitting so close to me looking like you look—tempting with all those muscles and hardness," she said, pointing at his chest and abdomen, her voice going throaty and breathless.

He looked up from his magazine, and she saw the desire burning behind those deep blue eyes of his. She swallowed, knowing that same desire was beginning to flare within her. His nostrils flared, letting the magazine fall from his hands to his lap.

He smirked. "Why Little Grey, if I didn't know any better, I would say your trying to proposition me for something."

She angled her body so she was turned slightly towards him. "Is it really a proposition if the other wants it just as bad as you," she replied, her tone low and cocky.

Mark's eyebrow arched. He flipped onto his side, his elbow resting on the bed his hand holding up the side of his head. In this position he was giving her another glimpse at his defined chest and hard planes of his stomach.

"I always want you, Lex. Always."

Her heart slammed against her ribs. "Well then…" she said, starting to push the laptop off her legs.

His eyes sparkled with mirth as he kept her laptop in its place. "You have studying to do," he said sternly.

She pouted. "That is not fair."

He grinned. "Life isn't fair, Little Grey. Back to studying you go."

"How about you help me?" she countered.

"I'm listening."

Her mouth curved into a smile, trying to hide the excitement that she would end up getting what she wanted. "How about you test me on a medical condition and if I can correctly answer the symptoms, I get a reward."

He wiggled his eyebrows. "What kind of reward?" he asked his voice a sexy baritone.

"Dealer's choice," she answered.

He thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Alright. Afterall, I do take teaching very seriously."

"Obviously," she agreed.

"Name the symptoms associated with Auto-brewery syndrome," he said.

"Seriously?"

He laughed. "I never said I would make it easy or play fair."

She huffed. "Coming right out of the gate with a rare condition is a little more than not being easy or playing fair."

"Those are the cards dealt. If you would rather, I go in the other room…" he said starting to turn to get out of bed, but she grabbed his arm and stopped him short.

"Fine." She thought for a moment trying to use her eidetic memory to recall a journal she had read right before graduating medical school. She recalled there was either five, no maybe six symptoms, and knowing her boyfriend it would be the later with six making it harder to get the answer right. "There's belching, chronic fatigue syndrome, dizziness, disorientation, hangovers, and…and…"

Mark yawned. "We don't have all night, Lex," he teased.

She narrowed her eyes and shoved at his very hard chest. He hardly even moved. "That's it. I really only think there are five now that I think about it."

Mark made a buzzer sound like they do in all the game shows alerting her to the fact that she was wrong. "There are six and the final symptom is irritable bowel syndrome (IBS)."

"Dang it!"

A cat like grin spread across his face. "You were wrong; therefore, you owe me a reward."

"Oh, really?"

He nodded. "Them the rules. Now pay up."

"Swindler," she muttered under her breath even though she was sure he heard her. "What do you want?"

"You grab the takeout tomorrow," he said automatically.

She gaped. "That's what you want? You can practically ask me for almost anything in here and you chose that?"

He laughed, leaning in so his lips and breath were mere inches from her cheek as he trailed up towards her ear. "Then that would still be a reward for you, Little Grey. You need incentive."

She scowled tossing a pillow at his face only making him laugh harder. Ten minutes later she had four correct answers and two incorrect answers. Not only did she have to pick up dinner tomorrow, but she also had to take out the trash even though housekeeping was more than equipped to handle the task. She hated taking out the trash and he knew it…which only made her that much more determined to not get another wrong answer.

For her three answers, she gave back to him just as good as he gave. She made him trail kisses all down her neck, made him give her a massage on her shoulders and lower back—knowing the pure torture he would get when he got close to her ass but couldn't touch. He always loved her ass. Finally, for her third correct response, she requested a make out session that was entirely French based. She pulled back just before she knew he was at the point of no return. She wasn't the only one who could play dirty.

Mark was rubbing his beard deep in thought when his eyes gleamed. "The surgical risks to a face transplant surgery?" he asked.

She schooled her expression. These types of surgeries were very rare and took almost months of planning. Even though she had been off his service rotation for the last couple of weeks with the exception of a joint consult or trauma case, she had heard rumblings that Seattle Grace might have it's very first one soon. And her extremely handsome and talented boyfriend would be the one to do it. Of course, that meant she read up on the procedure in the event she could wiggle her way onto that once in a lifetime type of surgical procedure. She was going to use this opportunity to impress him.

"Why Dr. Sloan, would that be blood loss, blood clots and infection," she answered, fluttering her lases coquettishly.

He shot her an alluring look and she was drawn into him like two magnets coming together. "Well, someone has been studying," he said, awed by her brilliance.

"Well, I have a great teacher." She moved the laptop towards the nightstand and this time, he didn't put up a fight.

Mark had her pinned underneath him in seconds, kissing her until they both required air. "I liked that prize very much," she said breathlessly.

"Wait for the grand prize," he rasped.

His lips were back on hers in seconds, but interrupted at the sound of a cell phone. Both his phone and beeper were right on the nightstand next to him since he was on call and scheduled to go in four hours from now, so that meant the phone was hers.

"Who would be calling you this late?" he asked.

"I don't know."

Her look was remorseful as she extricated herself from him. He let her go begrudgingly. She fumbled around the floor where their clothes hand come off in a frenzy from earlier when Mark had taken her to bed, and found her cellphone in the pocket of her jeans.

"Hello?"

"Lexie, it's Joe. I need you to come down here. I had to cut your father off, and he is threatening to drive out of here. I told him he couldn't and that I would have to call the police if he didn't let someone come and get him. He said he had no one to call," he said, his voice brisk and tired sounding.

"I'm so sorry, Joe. Is he still there?"

"Yes. I really don't want to call the cops on the guy. I know he's had a rough couple of months, and I know he is your father…"

Lexie sighed, closing her eyes. Ever since her mother had passed away unexpectedly—a one and million type of complication—her dad had taken to the bottle to drown out his pain. Her younger sister Molly and her and put up with it for the first month, but as the days went on, he became increasingly more violent and unstable. Molly had moved away with her husband and kids not wanting them to see their grandpa that way, and with Meredith, they hadn't really ever had a relationship after her mother had an affair with Chief Webber.

What made matters worse, was that Thatcher Grey blamed his own daughter for the reason why his wife and her mother was no longer here. The doctor in Lexie knew that Meredith and done nothing wrong and did everything she could to save her. Meredith was a great doctor, even if her father couldn't see that.

That meant the only daughter left that was still around and willing to somewhat put up with his continued shenanigans was her. After Molly had left, she had told her dad he needed to clean up his act before he lost her too. For a while, she believed he was doing a good job and cleaning himself up, but then she realized he was just getting better at hiding himself away.

Regardless if she was frustrated and disappointed in him that he would again choose the bottle over wanting to choose help—get better so he could have relationships again with all of his daughters—he was still her dad—and she loved him. She loved the man that had made her animal shaped toast for breakfast, cleaned up her cuts when she hurt herself, and constantly told her how proud he was all throughout medical school.

For that reason, she would leave the warm and comforting arms of Mark in the middle of the night to race down to Joe's and make sure her dad got home safely and into bed to pass out and sleep off this recent drunken bender he was on.

She already had her bra and panties on, her jeans and sweater in her hands as she held the phone to her ear. "I'll be there as soon as I can, Joe. And, thank you," she said before handing up.

"What's going on?" Mark asked already out of bed and coming around to pick up his clothes.

"My dad. He's at Joe's and completely wasted and refusing to take other transportation other than driving himself. If I don't go and get him, then Joe will be forced to call the cops," she answered.

Mark frowned; his face sympathetic. He knew all about her troubles with her dad. Even though he had more than once said he was on team Molly and Meredith—that at some point he had to face the music on his own and hit rock bottom in order for things to get better—he also understood that for her, she couldn't cut him out as easily as Molly and Meredith could.

"I'll come with you," he said.

"No," she stated, stopping him from getting dressed. "It's my responsibility and you have to be on shift in a couple of hours. You really need to get to sleep."

His eyes darkened and there was a slight edge in his voice. "I don't like you going alone. Besides it's raining outside."

"Mark, please stay," she begged. She hated having to ask this of him when she could see the pain in his eyes at being asked not to come. "This is something that I have to do. He has to hear it from me—only me—that this can't continue."

He sighed, his broad shoulders going rigid that he was not happy with the idea of her going out alone late at night, in terrible weather, but she knew it was hard for him to deny her anything, especially when it was something that was already hard enough for her to do.

"I don't like it," he admitted, his brow creasing in concern.

She placed her hands on his face and gave him a quick kiss. "I know, me either," she agreed. "But I am going to take care of this and I will be back soon. I promise to make it up to you."

Her promise did little to ease the concern in his eyes, but he kissed her back and then released her from his embrace. "Go. Be careful, and call me when you are on your way back."

"I don't want to wake you."

"It's fine. I probably won't be sleeping anyway. Just call. Promise?"

She grabbed her jacket, purse, keys to her car, and gave him another quick kiss on the lips. "Promise."

She raced out of the room with a quick glance back to see the dubious look etched on his perfect looking features.

Lexie was already soaked just from the short distance between Joe's parking lot to the bar. The rain was falling harder now then when she had left Mark's hotel. She was beginning to rethink her decision to leave him, their warm bed and arms, and the soon to be pleasure they were about to bring to each other for a third time, before her cell ruined their evening.

Drops of water were falling from her hair onto her eyelashes, nose, and lips, the chill from the cold rain already seeping into her clothes. Her teeth were already beginning to chatter, and the fatigue from her all-day shift and then love making with Mark were catching up with her. She was looking forward to getting back to the hotel and crashing right away.

The bell on the door dinged, Joe's face lighting up with relief when he saw her walk in and make a beeline right to the bar. Her dad was standing at the end of the bar, voice raised as he demanded his keys for the third time since she entered.

As Lexie approached, she could smell the alcohol coming from him and she wasn't even within his close personal space. She sighed, knowing that was because months of constant drinking had the booze pouring out of his skin. She could no longer deny that her father had become a full fledge alcoholic.

As Thatcher turned towards her, his eyes didn't even flash with recognition, which hurt her deeply. Instead, he looked at her like she was the evil bogyman coming to take away his favorite toy and happiness. Studying his face, he looked worse than the last time she saw him. His clothes were baggier—which meant he wasn't properly eating or getting the nutrition he needed—his skin color was pale and sickly looking, and his eyes were bloodshot red. It looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Lexie, thank you for coming," Joe exclaimed.

"Thanks for calling," she replied irritably in her father's direction.

Joe handed her his car keys, which meant her dad's anger was now directed squarely on her.

His brows creased together as he squinted in her direction. "Lexie?"

"Yes, dad, it's me, Lexie. I am here to take you home."

He scowled. "I don't want to go home. I want another drink," he demanded.

She gritted her teeth having already lost her patience. "Your drunk dad. Besides, the bar is getting ready to close," she lied with the last part, knowing that Joe's last call wasn't for another two more hours.

Thatcher stomped his foot like a toddler, but seemed to at least buy the excuse. "Fine," he muttered. "Give me my keys and I will go to the liquor store and then go home."

"No. We are going home now, and I will drive you in my car. I can drive your car back home tomorrow for you," she said giving him a quelling look.

His cheek twitched, his eyes blinking rapidly, no doubt trying to keep himself from passing out right here and now. "I am not a child. I am a grown man. You are a child. You will not tell me what to do or how to live my life."

Lexie bit the inside of her cheek tasting blood with how angry she was with her father right now. Even though the bar wasn't packed to the gills at this point, there was still enough customers in the place that were now completely looking in their direction at their altercation.

"Your right. I am the child. You are the adult. But right now, only one of us is acting like a responsible adult and that isn't you," she spat. She lowered her voice and took a step forward. "The way I see it, you have two choices in front of you right now. You either come with me and let me drive you home, or I walk out of here and let the cops deal with you. Take your pick."

Thatcher scowled. "I guess that's not much of a choice," he said his tone reproachful. "I guess there is no limits to the number of disappointments your children can give you."

Lexie cringed, another slash to her heart where it came to her father. Another instance that he was willing to allow his addiction with alcohol drive a wedge into their relationship. Joe's features turned angry having heard the comment, having completely lost his patience with her dad. He looked to her, but she shook her head. Her problem to manage.

"Let's go," was all she said, before turning and walking towards the entrance of the bar.

She didn't care at this point if he followed her or not. She had his keys to the car and he wouldn't be able to drive anywhere. If he chose not to come with her, then Mark, Molly, and Mer were right—he needed to hit rock bottom in order to make a change for himself.

The angry stomping of steps behind her told her that he had in fact followed her to the door. She ran to her car, careful to avoid any major puddles. Last thing she needed was cold, wet, feet. The rain was still coming down, and she was already having a hard time shaking from the cold.

She looked back to see her dad was still with her, a permanent scowl etched on his face. He reminded her of her once, when she was a kid and they refused to let her sleepover her friend's house because they didn't like her parents. They said the parents were "irresponsible". How life had came full circle since then.

"Get in the car, dad," she said, the exact same way and tone he had to her all those years ago.

She slid into her seat, cranking the heat as the engine purred to life. Her dad flopped in next to her, drops of water from his jacket splashing everywhere with his inability to control his movements thanks to being highly inebriated.

Lexie pulled out of the parking lot, turning her car back towards her childhood home. Even with the pouring rain falling, the drive should take no more than twenty minutes there and twenty minutes back to the hotel. She already missed Mark and the warmth of his body while she sat in her older beat-up Jetta, shivering from the cold rain seeping through her clothes.

Her father angled his body away from her, looking out the window in his attempt to not talk to her. That was fine with her. He was far more drunk than she had thought when Joe called her—which meant he had started drinking before actually going to Joe's—and as someone who tended to be an angry drunk, it was best not to poke the beast any further. At least until she could drop him off and leave without feeling any guilt about him getting home safely.

"I want to stop at a liquor store," he grunted.

"No."

"I am your father. You…you're the child," he slurred through his words. "You don't get to defy me."

Lexie turned the car down another street, her windshield wipers still fixed on the highest setting. "Well, I hate to tell you, your actions say otherwise tonight."

"Don't you talk back to me, girl."

Girl. Girl. He was so trashed he couldn't even remember which of his kids was actually here to bail him out—again. Lexie didn't blame Mer since there was never a relationship between them to begin with, but after Molly left last month—it had become increasingly difficult to continue and deal with his lashing out at her by herself.

Didn't he see that she loved him? That she wanted the best for him and his life by getting sober and going back to being the man she grew up with—loving husband and father.

She thought back to the first few weeks when she had come to the hospital and found out that Meredith was her sister. She had been so excited to meet her, and was disappointed when she hadn't felt the same way. She had made the mistake thinking they could bond over their father.

"We have the same dad," Lexie said following Meredith to an x-ray room.

"No, we don't," Meredith pointed out exasperated by her constant push on the subject.

"Well, I mean DNA—"

"Look," Meredith turned abruptly cutting her off. "We might have the same dad when it comes to DNA, but we don't have the same dad. You have a dad that raised you. That cooked for you, cared for you, loved you. I had a man that walked away and couldn't even look at me because all I did was remind him of the wife that cheated on him and broke his heart. My dad chose to abandon me and walk away from me, but not you. If you're hoping for any sort of relationship with me, don't bring him up to me again. Understand?"

"I—I…"

"For your sake, I hope you never have to experience the childhood I had, but if he is anything like I know…never mind," she said before grabbing her x-rays off the machine and storming out of the room.

Lexie couldn't understand Meredith's reaction and feelings back then, but sitting next to her dad in this moment and the man he had become, she couldn't be sorrier about how she treated Meredith during those few first weeks. No child should have to be let down or abandoned repeatedly by the one that should love them the most.

"No more alcohol," she said with a finality on the subject.

Thatcher Grey thought differently. "Another disappointment," he muttered.

She should have let it go knowing that most of his comments were a result of the alcohol talking, but after weeks of constant hits from him, she couldn't take it anymore.

"Me? A disappointment? That's rich coming from a drunk. You've already alienated two of your three daughters, dad, and your about to lose me too. If I, were you, I would shut up, sit back, and let me get you home to sleep this off?"

Thatcher Grey couldn't just keep quiet or be grateful. "I don't need you," he spat. "I don't need any of you. The only person I ever needed—ever loved—was taken from me," he said, beating his chest right near his heart—or where one used to be.

She gasped, feeling gutted and utterly betrayed by a man who told her he would always love her and protect her. She'd guess that had all been a lie too.

"How could you say that?" she cried, her own voice betraying and showing her vulnerability. "I mean nothing to you?"

"Your mother meant everything to me," came his only reply.

She pursed her lips, her jaw tight as she tried to internally manage the fact that her heart was breaking inside. She had always thought her ability to be selfless and want to help others had come from her father, but now she could see how wrong that had been.

"I guess there's nothing left to be said," she admitted softly, the big droplets from the rain filling the silence of the car.

Lexie turned the car again, only a few books from her childhood home.

"Turn here," he demanded.

She ignored him knowing that the very place he wanted her to turn was the neighborhood market which also had a liquor store in the market. No doubt where most of the liquor he drank these days was supplied from.

"Turn here," he repeated again, getting more and more agitated by the second.

"No."

Lexie didn't expect what happened next. Her father reached over, grabbing the steering wheel in an attempt to steer the car in the direction he wanted to go. The sudden jerk of the wheel in combination with the build up of water from the rainfall on the tries, caused her to lose traction and control of the car.

From her time growing up, she knew the last thing she was supposed to do was slam on the brakes. That would only cause her to lose further control, but the sudden jerk left them head on straight into telephone pole. She tried to turn the wheel in the direction the car was sliding but there was no time and the car was sliding at incredible speed.

The car skidded barreling into the pole, screeching before it came to an abrupt stop. The momentum of the crash propelled both her father and her forward, her head slamming into the steering wheel even with her seatbelt straining to hold her into the seat.

She blinked gingerly, as she lifted her head. She could feel a warm drip of liquid gushing from her head. Lifting her fingers, she already could tell by the cooper smell it was blood. Her head was pounding and shapes in the form of circles started to form at the back of her eyes. She tried to shake them away, but the smallest movement only made it worse. The doctor in her recognized the best thing to do was to remain as still as possible and wait for additional help to arrive. Even this late at night, it was Friday and others were still milling about from the local restaurants nearby.

Remembering her dad was with her, she carefully titled her head to the side, conscientious to make sure she didn't cause any more injuries to herself. She was aware the pain and stiffness in her neck felt more like whiplash then anything far more serious, but the seeing spots, pounding in her head along with the blood she could feel gushing from a cut to her head told her she was soon going to lose consciousness.

Her dad was unconsciousness slumped against the dashboard of the car. Glass from the windshield was broken all around them and resting in his hair and clothes. His eyes were closed and his face was twisted in pain. She tried to extend her hand to check for a pulse, but the seatbelt had jammed keeping her arm in place. He looked so feeble sitting next to her, eerily silent.

"Dad."

No response.

"Dad."

Still no response.

A single tear rolled gently from her eye, her own strength waning. Mark's face flashed in her vision choppy and broken in between the circles behind her eyes. His name was the last thing to leave her lips, the incoming sirens in the distance before her eyes closed, slipping into darkness.

Thanks, for reading. Hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. Feedback welcomed.