Warning: None.
A/N: Who doesn't love Mark's protective side? Hope you enjoy this next chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Thanks again for your continued support and awesome reviews. Hugs!
Chapter 5 – I've Got You
The sound of Mark's pager had him slapping his nightstand on autopilot. His eyes opened suddenly. Last he remembered, he had been sitting up, waiting for Lexie to return from going to take her drunken father home, when he must've closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.
"Lex?"
He felt for her next to him, but came up empty handed. He turned over to see her spot was still empty. He looked back over at the clock next to his phone and pager. It had been over an hour since she had left his hotel room. She should have been back by now as he calculated the distance to both places.
He grabbed the pager off the nightstand. Emergency trauma call. He was on call and due to be on shift anyway in three hours. He got up already dressing quickly, trying to calm the unease he was feeling since she wasn't back yet.
He snatched his cell and called Lexie. Maybe she was on her way back and they would just miss each other. He didn't want her to worry when she came back and he wouldn't be there. He scribbled a quick note and dialed her phone. Her phone rang a few times and then went to voicemail.
"Lex, where are you? I've been paged. I am headed to the hospital. Call me back and let me know you got back safely."
He shoved his phone and keys in his pocket, grabbed his jacket and raced out the door. The rain had stopped luckily by the time he left the hotel, giving him hope that she would have walked back into his room any minute—safe and sound. Where she belonged.
The doors to the hospital opened. Mark dressed quickly in the locker room in his dark blue scrubs and white lab coat and then raced into the ER room. As soon as he entered into the doors, he saw Derek—the on-call attending— looked up and nod in his direction. He would be relieving him from his shift shortly. He wasn't particularly happy to have to be in close proximity for the next couple of hours when things were still unresolved between them, and neither was making the effort to initiate a cease-fire.
Derek had been seeing a patient behind a curtain, but stepped back mouthing something to the patient before coming over to him.
"What do we have?" Mark asked.
"We need to talk," he replied.
"Not now, Derek. I got paged about in an incoming trauma."
"I know," he said hesitantly. "I'm the one that paged you."
"Need a consult?"
"It's Lexie," he said cautiously. "Thatcher and Lexie were in an accident," he answered hastily.
Mark felt like his whole world went into slow motion. Blurbs passing in and around him, fading in and out of existence. Blood pounded in his ears, his heart rate speeding up so rapidly, he felt like he might pass out. It was an odd sensation for him, since he was always cool, calm, and collected and never had a problem with his emotions distracting him from the job.
"Mark?"
"Where is she?" he demanded pushing past him, his eyes scanning each of the ER beds ominously, throwing back curtains in his way.
"Mark, hold up," he said, grabbing at his arm.
He turned so fast, shrugging Derek off with such force that his friend had to take a step back. Derek flashed him with a solicitous look, his brows snapped together.
"Where?" he repeated, his eyes tense and narrow.
"Follow me," he said, walking him over to the trauma bed.
Derek pulled back the curtain, the same bed Mark had seen him standing at when he had approached the ER when he first came in. He braced himself for what he might find when he rounded the sheet, knowing he would deal with whatever it was that was thrown their way.
He stopped short, a sob of relief caught in his throat when he found Lexie sitting up on the trauma gurney, alert, awake, and holding a wad of gauze to her forehead.
"What happened?" he snapped a little more harshly than he intended.
"Mark!" she cried her voice sounding tremulous.
Her breath caught in her throat at the sheer sight of him. He wanted to rejoice that just the sight of him coming to her made her feel that way.
Her body was shaking, and her clothes were drenched with water from the rain and blood which he could tell from whatever cut she had sustained to the head. Her free hand reached out to him, and he took it instantly, pushing his way through until his other hand rested on her shoulder.
"It's ok, Lex, I'm here," he breathed, relieved that she was with him, and by the looks of it, relatively in better shape then what his mind had conjured up in the number of seconds he knew she had been injured.
"My dad," she gulped, her eyes glistening. "I tried to help, but I couldn't fight the unconsciousness." A shiver of sensation cascaded through her as she did her best to dial back her indignation that she hadn't been able to do more. She looked so ethereal that it killed him.
Even now, even after the fact that it was her father's actions that led them here—that he was certain of—she still wasn't worried about her own safety or injuries. It's what made him care for her so damn much he didn't know how to put it into words. She was just so damn beautiful, amazing, and loving and not for this world.
Her lithe body, relaxed against his warm one as he did a thorough once over—or what he could here out in the open. He was do a very thorough inspection when he got her alone with some privacy.
His cheek twitched, as he inspected the gash on her forehead. He surveyed the superficial cuts on her arms—probably from the glass shattering in the car. He had seen enough cuts, gashes, and amputations to know exactly how she got each of them. There were dark spots around her arms already starting to turn to various shades of purple and blue bruises.
Derek cleared his throat behind him. "I conduct a neurological examination, and confidently able to report no head trauma or even concussion," he said.
"Thank you," Mark answered briskly.
He pulled back the gauze on her forehead, trying to go as slowly and gently as possible when she winced. She had a nasty gash from her hairline going diagonally down towards her right temple. He could even see small shards of glass that needed to be cleaned out.
"I sent the intern for a suture kit," Derek added. "He should be back any minute to tend to her wound."
"I'm not letting an idiot intern attend to her," he said through clench teeth.
"Mark…"
He turned towards his friend, Derek's mouth closing at whatever look he must've seen cross his face.
"Ma—Mark, I'm fine. The intern could tend to me," she rattled through her shudder and clenched teeth.
He had her hold the gauze back to her head, grabbing the folded blanket behind her on the gurney and wrapped it around her shoulders.
"I think you might be concussed after all if you think I am going to let one of those idiots take care of this. Besides, I am the head of plastics—I will ensure you won't even have a scar after I take care of this."
He didn't just have to do this, he wanted to do this. No, he needed to do this. It was his job to protect and care for her and since he wasn't able to protect her from the accident, he would do so now with her aftercare. Whether she was too tired to argue or could see his need to be by her, she nodded mutely at his request.
"Dr. Sloan," a brown hair scrawny intern greeted coming up towards them with a pack of sutures in his hand. "I was just coming to tend to Lexie," he said.
"What's your name?" he asked not amused or impressed by the look of the intern.
"Steve, Sir. Dr. Steve Mostow," he answered quickly.
"First, your patient's name is Dr. Grey. Second, I am taking over this case. Find something else to do or someone else to help."
"Mark," Derek groaned.
He ignored Derek and the pout of the intern who thought he was going be doing anything remotely helpful with the woman he cared deeply for. He had to give the kid credit when he indicated he understood.
"Come on, Lex, let's move you somewhere more privately so I can attend to your injury," Mark said softly.
He helped her down from the gurney, her exhausted and bruised body leaning against him for support.
"Mark, a word," Derek said.
"Not now," he said dismissively.
"No, now," he said more aggressively moving to block his path.
Mark's brows snapped together, his nostrils flaring with a contemptuous look in his eyes. "Get out of my way, or I will move you," he threatened.
"Please," he begged. "It will just take a moment." He looked over at Lexie hoping he got the point.
"Fine," he relented. "Intern, take her to the private room right around the corner. I'll be there in a second," he said. He turned to Lexie, "I'll be there in just a minute," he whispered.
She offered a tired smile. "I'm ok. Take your time."
He watched the intern escort her out, hating that it was him that was currently helping her instead of him. The last thing he wanted right now was to be separated from her. He needed to be with her until he was fully satisfied that she would be ok and unharmed.
"What?" he asked managing to sound affronted.
To Derek's credit, he took his bad mood and snippy comments in stride. Especially when things up until now had been rather tensions already between the two of them.
"I just thought you should know, Thatcher Grey arrived in far worse shape. He was unconscious on scene when the paramedics arrived. He's stable now, but he sustained a ruptured spleen which we are prepping for surgery now. He also sustained a mild concussion and broke his forearm. He will be here for a few days in recovery."
Mark nodded, but was finding it very hard to shed any sympathy for the man that had no sense of self decency to put his daughter's well-being above himself. They were grieving too—Susan's death having been extremely hard on Lexie. He could see in small ways how her absence was felt. He knew the signs so well, because he had recognized them in himself when he was a young boy.
"Will you let me know when he is out and settled in a room?" he asked his arms crossed over his chest his eyebrows meeting a stern line over his enraged gaze.
Derek nodded. He took a step forward to move past, but Derek held up his hand. "One more thing," he said quickly causing him to halt. He looked his best friend in the eye, and saw him nod with a grimace. "I know that now is an inopportune time to really discuss this like we should, and I hope you will take me up on the opportunity to get together for a drink…but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said at the bar about you, and about you and your relationship with Lexie. I can see how much you care about her and how wrong I was. I just thought you should know."
He faltered for a minute not expecting that had been what would have come from Derek's mouth, but he appreciated it in that moment more than Derek even knew.
"Thank you. I would like that," he said.
Derek gave a slight shake of the head, before tapping him on the shoulder and headed back to the patients of the ER.
Mark released intern slinky—or so he now called him—based on his tall and lanky build. He was sure if he stepped outside in a wind storm he would just completely blow away.
As the door shut, he sat on the stool and moved closure to Lexie as she stretched out on the gurney the piece of gauze still held to her head. He opened the suture pack and started threading the suture through the needle holder.
She turned to him, and he offered her a reassuring smile. "Dr. Mostow could have patched me up," she said.
"I've got you," he replied. He winked. "Besides, I would never let an idiot intern who can't perform a simple suture touch that beautiful face of yours."
She shot him a slow lazy smile. "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me," he said automatically. "I'd do anything for you."
She sighed, and closed her eyes as he removed the gauze from her head and started the process of threading with the iris mousetooth forceps like he had done a thousand times before. He could do this with his eyes closed, but with Lexie being his patient he would take even greater care to make sure she would have no scar and everything was done pristinely.
"How bad is it?" she asked, her face contorting every so often when he would pull the suture firmly to ensure a tight closure.
"Barely even a scratch."
She swallowed at another pull and shook her head. "Liar."
He bent down gave her a quick kiss. "You'll be just fine. I promise." He paused. "What happened, Little Grey?"
He had been working up the nerve to ask that question, because he wasn't sure he wanted to have to hear it, or relive it through her eyes. He was already pissed off with her father…and since she was unharmed outside of this gash he was attending too, he didn't know if knowing the full story would make it any better anyway.
Her eyes glanced up at the ceiling as she told him everything from the moment, she entered the bar to the ride home and finally what had happened to cause the accident. He was thankful that he was here tending to her injuries and not anywhere near Thatcher Grey, or he swore he would have more than a raptured spleen and broken arm that needed fixing.
"Mark…how is my dad? Derek wouldn't tell me anything while he was examining me," she said gruffly.
He was grateful for that at least. Last thing she needed was any additional stress when her own medical condition hadn't been confirmed yet. His eyes glanced up to see her looking back at him studying his face. He couldn't lie to her and even though he wanted to protect her, she deserved to know the truth.
He gave her a rundown of the injuries he sustained and the fact that he was being taken into surgery now. Her eyes fluttered closed, a single tear rolling down her cheek. He used the pad of his finger to wipe the tear away as he paused on suturing her face.
"He's going to be ok, Lex."
Her eyes flickered opened, and settled on him. "I'm a terrible person Mark," she said the tears free flowing now.
His hands stilled, any irritation he had in that moment melting away at the distraught look crossing her features. The skin between his eyes furrowed in disbelief. He was angry; that impertinence of a thought that that she was a terrible person was inexcusable.
"Lex—"
"Before I passed out," she choked, "I looked over at my dad and saw he was unconscious. I love my dad Mark, I do, but for a split second…I…I actually had hoped that he had died. That way I wouldn't have to watch him die slowly at the rate he is going with drinking. That way I wouldn't have to cut him out of my life because of the toxic things he says and does. That I could pretend he was still the man I remembered from my childhood and not the man he has become now," she admitted painfully. She squeezed her eyes shut her chest heaving.
"Lex, open your eyes and look at me." She licked her lips, turned, and opened her eyes. They were brimming with tears. "You are not a terrible person. You are the most loving and remarkable woman I know. If your father doesn't know what he has when it comes to you…that is his loss not yours."
That was the second time since he had met her that he had told her that, and he knew there would be many more times he would have to remind her of it as well. He wanted to believe that she believed what he was saying, but he could see she was still wrestling with her own internal demons. He picked up the sutures and made quick work to finish stitching the gash, making sure she knew that he would be here for her through all of it. Because cuts would heal and scars would fade, but what happened in that car tonight with her father would be a wound that would take long-term care to heal—if it ever could.
She watched as he cut the suture and tied it off, and placed a bandage over the gash. He removed the remnants of supplies and discarded his gloves in the nearby trash can. When he turned back, she had slid over on the gurney and patted it next to her.
She glanced at him sheepishly. "Will you stay with me for a bit?"
"I wasn't planning on going anywhere," he said, already sliding in next to her.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, delicately pulling her to his chest and wrapping her in his arms careful to avoid her cuts and bruises. She sighed, and burrowed her head into his collarbone and neck.
"This is nice," she noted. "I missed this the moment I left."
"Your lucky if I ever let you leave again."
Her lips turned upwards into a grin against his neck. He took both the fact that her skin was finally starting to warm up and the first grin since she had left their room earlier as a tremendous accomplishment. He pulled the blanket up covering her to keep her warm.
She yawned. "I'm so tired."
He kissed her cheek. "Go to sleep, Little Grey. I'll be here when you wake. I've got you."
She sighed. "Yeah, you've got me…" she trailed off, relaxing in his arms, falling into a deep sleep.
As soon as Lexie drifted into a deeper sleep, Mark paged Chief Webber to talk to him about Lexie. He already knew the specifics—code warrants anytime his staff is injured he be notified immediately—but Mark wanted permission that she be taken out of rotation today and let him take her home. He knew she would hate it, thinking it would put her behind…but his Lexipedia was already leaps and bounds ahead of the other idiot interns. He was glad that Richard agreed with his recommendation and was even kinder to rearrange the day so he could be off with her.
Meredith stopped over to check on Lexi thanking him for being there and helping to take care of her. Like he even needed the thanks. His rapidly growing friendship with the older Grey—thanks to their shared bond ship of their similar childhood histories—made him feel good that he had her approval anyway.
They were standing outside the private ER room watching Lexie sleep. She was starting to stir awake, and he wanted to make sure he was there when she woke up. The fact that she had slept as long as she did on the lumpy and uncomfortable bed had told him she was exhausted as she looked. Both physically and mentally.
"Mer, can you do me a favor?" he asked.
She glanced away from her and to him. "Sure."
"Do you mind getting Lexie back to my place and I will meet you there. I have something I need to take care of first," he said shifting uncomfortably.
He watched her study him for a minute before nodding. "How about I take her back to my place—since she is supposed to be living there anyway—and you can meet us there?"
He nodded. He would have preferred her going back to his hotel room for privacy, but her being in an actual home with additional family in case he couldn't be there was a better idea now that he thought about it.
"Great. Thanks." He stepped forward to walk into the room, but Meredith calling his name pulled him back, and he turned towards her. "Make sure he understands for the both of us," she said, crossing her arms, the pain written all of her face for her sister.
He nodded, Meredith indicating she would go and get the car to pull around so he could bring her to the emergency exit door.
"Hey," he said, when she stirred awake.
"What time is it?" she asked drowsily.
"Just after five," he answered. She jolted upright, her face wincing in pain and her hand reaching up to her head. "Easy there, tiger." He put a hand on her shoulder for half comfort and half to steady her.
"I don't have time. I have to change and get ready for rotation," she replied, swinging her legs over the gurney.
He stepped in front of her legs halting her in place. "The chief already cleared your scheduled for the day." Her mouth opened to say something, but he answered her unspoken question before she could even pose it. "It's protocol after any staff is in a kind of injury."
"No, it's not," she argued. "Besides, I am still an intern and I need to make sure I soak up everything so I can pass my tests," she said pushing him just a bit, his chest not even budging.
"You can tomorrow. Doctor's orders." he grinned.
"Mark!"
"Well, if you didn't like that you're not going to like this," he said rubbing his beard.
He told her that she would be headed back to Meredith's place and under strict orders—his orders—to be on bedrest to allow herself to recover from her injuries. She tried to protest that she felt fine, but now that the adrenaline had warn off, her body would start to begin to feel every ache and pain from the accident. Whether she believed it or not, she was going to be sore and be glad for the bedrest order later.
It was the fact that he was also taking the day off to be with her that bothered her more. He tried not to let it upset him, but she had clearly communicated she didn't want him putting his surgeries and patients on hold just to tend to her. She relented after he told her it would make him more comfortable as her treating physician to her wound care, instead of the fact that he wanted to be there for her while she was going through her worst. Both physically and emotionally. They just went public with a relationship, and with everything going on with her father, he didn't think unloading the heaviness of his feelings onto her was the right decision in this moment.
After helping Meredith get Lexie into the car, he found Derek waiting for him as promised with the information as it related to Thatcher's room and post op details.
"You sure you really want to do this?" Derek asked as they stood outside Thatcher's hospital room.
His arms were across his chest, as he watched Lexie's father laying in the room, his eyes glancing back and forth taking in his surroundings. He could only imagine the level of withdrawals he was soon about to experience now that he didn't have a bottle at his fingertips when realization dawned on him.
"If it were Meredith?" he countered.
Derek nodded, understanding if the roles were reversed that he would be just as pissed. "Meredith feels responsible," he admitted.
"This isn't her fault at all."
"No," Derek agreed, "But she feels that if she supported Lexie more and just didn't turn her back that maybe this would never have happened."
"Maybe. Maybe not. Thatcher isn't a one-time occurrence kind of guy. Knowing his history with Mer, people don't change," Mark answered.
He heard Derek's sigh, knowing his choice of words was deliberately about the comments Derek had made about him and his past man whore days. He didn't completely mean it as a dig to start another fight, more of a way in voicing his own fears out loud. The idea that he would ever become like Thatcher Grey was unimaginable—and he had experienced tremendous loss from a young age—but never the loss of losing the person you loved. Thankfully.
"I know right now is not the best time, but I would really like it if we can get together this week…to talk," Derek said.
Mark blinked, and turned to his friend. "I'd like that."
He straightened and made his move to enter into the room. Thatcher's eyes immediately picked up his entrance and licked his lips.
"No one is telling me anything, or has come in," Thatcher said anxiously. The withdrawals were surely kicking in. "Who are you?"
Mark stood just above his bed. "Mr. Grey, my name is Dr. Mark Sloan. I am the head of plastics here at Seattle Grace Hospital," he answered.
He watched the man's brows crease, his forehead puckered together. "Plastics? Am I disfigured?" he asked his hands coming to his face and touching everywhere before moving onto his body. He slowed at the cast on his forearm.
"No, Mr. Grey. Other than a few abrasions, a broken forearm, and the raptured spleen which they corrected during your surgery, you're expected to make a full recovery," he said primly in the same tone he used on all his patients.
"Thank god," he sighed, easing back into the bed. Thatcher looked back to him when he hadn't moved to leave the room. "Is there something else?"
Mark had to stop himself from wanting to go over and throttle the man and his selfishness. "Do you even care to ask about your daughter? You know who was in the accident with you?"
Thatcher blinked, and Mark could see that he must've been so drunk he couldn't even recall the fact that he sustained his injuries from a car accident or that Lexie had been with him at the time.
"Molly?" he asked.
Mark gritted his teeth. "No. Molly moved away about a month ago. It was Lexie," he supplied.
Thatcher rubbed his eyes with his good hand, his mouth opening and closing as if the information Mark was unloading onto him was too much to bear. As a doctor, he had a lot of sympathy. As the head of plastics, he recognized that most people that came to him didn't come because they needed the new face or the firmer boobs or ass, it was because what they were really looking for was help on fixing what was wrong on the inside. Right now, for Thatcher specifically, his compassion tank was all emptied.
"Was…was she hurt badly?"
Mark grunted. "She was hurt…but will make a full recovery," he said after a brief pause not feeling he deserved much more than that. That would be Lexie's call to tell him.
"What happened?"
Mark's hands balled into fists under his chest. "You don't remember?"
Thatcher's head made a slight shake in that he in fact did not remember. "I…I…"
"You were drunk, at Joe's," he once again supplied. "Joe called Lexie to come get you, otherwise he would have called the cops and let them deal with you. Frankly, that should have been what he had done," he said harshly.
Mark didn't feel bad about how he spoke to Lexie's father either. Every time he thought about her being in danger, it was hard to countenance it was her own father that put her there in the first place.
"At least she is ok," he responded.
Mark shot him a withering stare. "That's all you have to say?" he asked clearly affronted.
"I'm not sure it's any of your business," he replied with a snarl.
Mark took a menacing step forward. "She is my business."
Thatcher's eyes squinted as he looked him over again. "You're the head of plastics, you said. What—what does that make you…her teacher? I'm sure she appreciates your concern—"
"I'm not just her teacher," he cut him off.
He hadn't decided when he walked into the room if he was going to share any personal details about his relationship with Lexie to her father, but the man's real lack of well-being for his own daughter had him grinding his teeth the more he stood here.
Mark watched the man scrutinize him understanding that by his disclosure, her father knew that they were in an intimate relationship as well. He could never recall ever meeting a woman he dated, father—he didn't really do dad's, since he never really dated before either—but he never imagined the first time he might have that experience would be in the hospital room reaming the man out for his lack of concern over her well-being.
A number of things went through his head to why the man could dislike him. The fact that he was a fellow doctor—considering the past with Ellis—the fact that he was an attending who was supposed to be teaching rather than getting in into her pants. But the thing that worried him the most was the disapproval because of the age difference between them. He, being at thirty-seven, and she at twenty-four, it usually was uncommon with their age gap they would even be compatible. For him, he was glad that wasn't the case with them.
"Aren't you a little…mature for her age?" he asked.
Mark ignored the obvious dig in his tone. "I think that's for Lexie to decide."
There was a beat of silence, before Thatcher spoke again. "It was an accident. It won't happen again."
Mark nodded. "Your right. It won't happen again. Because I am done allowing you to railroad over your daughter because you are too weak to deal with your own grief."
Thatcher's eyes went round, his face darkening a shade of red. "How dare you? You have no right. Get out of my room." He demanded.
Mark made no move to leave the man's room. Not until he had an opportunity to say what he wanted to say. "The things you've said and done to her, it's left a mark. She has done nothing but try and help you and support you and all you have done is throw her aside like she doesn't matter. I know you miss Susan—"
"Don't you dare speak her name to me!" he shouted.
Mark swallowed, but pushed on anyway. "I know you miss your wife. But that does not give you the right to hurt the ones you love."
"Get out." he demanded again.
Mark realized he wasn't going to get through to the man, and got out pretty much what he wanted to say to him anyway. "You've lost her this time," he said turning back. Thatcher's eyes drifted to him briefly. "I don't know if you will be able to get her back…but she's had enough. That's all three of your children now. And Lexie…she's smart, she's beautiful, she's perfect. So, that is your loss."
"Nurse! Nurse!"
Chief Webber walked into the room and took one look at the angry face of Thatcher and then Mark Sloan.
"Get this man out of my room," he shouted, not even caring that the very man who had walked in his room was the man he had a vendetta against from years ago.
"Dr. Sloan, a word?" Chief Webber beckoned.
Two nurses came into the room to calm Thatcher down, and Mark walked into the hallway with Richard right on his tail.
"What in the hell is a matter with you?" he asked.
"Nothing. Someone needed to get through to that man," he answered.
Richard crossed his arms. "And you think that man needs to, be you?"
"Yes. If that is what it takes. His behavior and actions don't get to go unchecked, not where I am concerned."
Richard sighed. "Regardless, on whether I agree with you or not, we still have rules and expectations to follow," he chastised. "I cannot allow you to go in and just tear the head off any patient you happen to disagree with—regardless of who you are dating at the moment. Now, I am baring you from stepping into his room again. Understand?"
Mark gritted his teeth, but nodded. He had said all that needed to be said anyway. "Fine."
"Go home. You weren't supposed to be here anyway," he added.
"I'm going."
"Mark." He half-turned, Richard walking up close to him so others weren't privy to his next comments. "If you tell anyone what I am about to say, I will deny this conversation ever happened…but it was about time that someone told him the consequences of his actions. If I didn't have an oath to abide by, or wasn't the Chief of this hospital, I would have gladly done it myself."
With that, Richard walked away, and Mark headed home to relieve Meredith so he could be with Lexie.
"I'm fine you know," Lexie said, as Meredith and Mark completed their changing of the patient shifts.
"Humor me," he replied, tucking the comforter on the bed closer to her.
"Mark."
"Yeah?"
"Stop. I am not broken. It's just a cut to the head, and I am fine. I won't break if I stand up and get out of the bed." He tried not to smile at her crankiness. It really was true that doctors made the worst patients.
"Tomorrow you can go back to normal, today you are under my care, and you will do what I feel is best for you."
Her chin dipped to her chest as she arched her eyebrow. "Laying it on a little thick, aren't we?"
"Not when it comes to you," he said naturally.
Her eyes softened. It warmed her heart to see how attentive and caring he was with her and her injuries. "Well, if my doctor says I need bed rest, then I think it's only fair that he has to join me. I mean, you know, to make sure I don't have any sudden complications."
He shook his head. He recognized the look had nothing to do with ensuring she had proper care, but to try and rid him of his pants instead.
"Rest," he proclaimed, even though below the belt, Big Sloan had other ideas.
"Please…" she begged.
He grunted. He was a sucker when it came to her. She could ask him to go climb Mount Everest, and he would do it if that would make her happy. He struggled internally with wanting to do what was right and let her rest and get better, and to selfishly climb in and hold her. The need to hold her won out.
His hands were already on his belt, removing it from the loopholes. Her eyes flashed with desire, but he shot her a warning look. "Rest only," he reminded her.
She nodded, sucking in her bottom lip, and he sure as hell knew he was a goner. He removed his jeans and unbuttoned his shirt, leaving only his boxers to remain. He thought briefly about removing, but then admitted to himself that that it would be mere seconds before his resolve would falter and he would want to take her. That isn't what she needed right now.
He climbed into bed next to her. She instantly came to him, curling up to his side, resting her head on his shoulder.
"How's your head?" he asked, turning his cheek to place a tender kiss just over the bandage.
She smiled. "It's just fine. I happen to have had the best plastic surgeon in all of Seattle take care of the wound."
He grinned. "You don't say."
She nodded. "Yep. Best looking too."
He chuckled. His hand ran up and down her back, happy when her body relaxed into his, her muscles easing as she grabbed him tighter. It was never tight enough in his mind.
"How are you doing?"
She knew that he wasn't asking about the physical wounds or even her possible aches and pains from her cuts. He was asking about the more difficult wounds, ones she didn't know if she wanted to confront in the moment.
"Okay," she answered, her voice thick with emotion.
"I wish I could take the pain away, baby," he said, his voice sounding so tortured.
She lifted her head, just as he looked down into her eyes, and she tried to convey all the feelings of warmth and appreciation she had for him. She leaned forward and he allowed her to give him a kiss. She understood he wasn't going to just give in and let her attempt to take it any further.
"You do. You have," she said softly, once she had pulled back.
He squeezed her shoulder again, and she resumed resting her head on his chest.
"He'll be ok," he said, attempting to open her up and get her to talk.
"This time. But what about next time?"
He didn't know what to say in that moment, because the odds were that if Thatcher continued the way he was, there would most likely be a next time. That thought made his chest ache even more, because he knew that even if she did make the decision to cut him out like Meredith and Molly had, that it wouldn't lessen the worry or concern she would still feel anyway.
"You can't be responsible for his actions, Lex. You can't place the burden of what those actions will become, if he decides to continue down the same path on yourself," he said.
"I know. I hate it. I hate him for putting us through this," she cried.
He kissed the top of her head just above the bandage of her gash. "I do too. Let's just hope that that he finds the strength to do what he should do."
"And if he doesn't?"
He looked down at her and waited until her eyes met his. "Then I will be right here holding your hand, and we will deal with it together."
Her hand reached up, her finger trailing down his cheek to his chin, and finally resting on his mouth. "Thank you," she said warmly.
"You don't have to thank me, Little Grey. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you."
"And I you," she said automatically.
"I know."
"I hope you do. Because I've got you too, Mark Sloan."
He smiled feeling his chest expand and expand. "Now rest."
This time, she didn't argue when she was safe in the arms of the man who was coming to mean everything to her.
Hope you enjoyed Chapter 5. New one to come hopefully soon.