Warning: Rated T for strong language and some light sexual content.

A/N: A little bit serious and a little light with this chapter. Thank you for your constant reviews and feedback. Really glad you are enjoying this story.

Mojotom - Don't worry, if watching soap operas taught me...a little angst can go a long way...LOL

Chapter 8 – Undercover Work

Mark

By the time I turned back around, Lexie was standing there in front of me. In that dress. Eyes up, Mark. Eyes up. She suddenly looked so unsure that she should be here. Her arms were crossed in front of her stomach and she was rubbing one hand up and down her other arm. Either she was cold or she was nervous. I didn't want her to be both.

"Are you cold?" I asked.

She shrugged nonchalantly, but her eyes betrayed her. "A little."

Of course, she was cold. It was a cold Seattle night, and she practically had a ton of skin on display. Not that I was complaining at the view I was getting. "I'll get you something to put on. Be right back."

If she was going to argue me finding something for her to wear, I had left the room before she could get the words out. I quickly moved to my room and opened up my chest of drawers where I kept my sweaters. I grinned when I pulled out the exact sweater I was thinking about and marched back into my living room.

"Here," I offered to her when she stood standing in the same spot, I had left her in.

She took the dark grey sweater and opened it up. Her eyes narrowed. "Really?"

I nodded with a grin. I had just handed her my favorite Columbia sweatshirt. For someone who graduated from Harvard, that would be like touching someone with the plague. They wouldn't want to be caught dead wearing anything with the word on it.

"You did say you were cold," I countered.

She let out a sigh, but started slipping her arms through the material anyway. I was disappointed when the sweater was fully on almost dwarfing her completely reaching down past her mid-thigh. It not only covered all of the creamy skin she had been sporting, but even covered all of those delicious curves that seemed to invade my thoughts lately.

If I was being honest, this night specifically...ever since I had seen Lexie in the dress she was wearing, I could think of nothing else. All I could think about was getting my hands on her directly as well as my mouth. I had never wanted anything in that moment as bad as I wanted her. I kept telling myself that I only wanted her because she was proving to be the one person that I couldn't have. She was my intern and I was her boss. She would most likely end up being Derek's sister, which he already was warning me to stay away from.

Even as I tried to tell myself that it was the classic want what you can't have, deep in my gut I didn't think that was true either. I just wanted her. She was doing something to my insides that I just hadn't experienced before. It was hard to try and pinpoint what it was or how to categorize what I was feeling when I didn't or haven't felt it before. Even thinking back to Addison, I couldn't say whatever I was feeling was similar to what I had felt—or thought I felt—when it came to Addison.

If I thought Lexie was sexy wearing the dress, seeing her draped in my Columbia sweater, the sleeves bunching up because my arms were triple the size of her, made my chest swell. Because even though her curves were now hidden from me, they had been burned in my memory back at the hospital.

After I had gotten back to my apartment from the gym—which did nothing to ease my tension—my mind could only think about her, the dress, and those curves. And all the ways if she had been mine that I would have wanted to touch her. To take her.

The mind could be a cruel and wonderful thing wrapped into one. The non-PG thoughts that were swirling around, were enough to keep from acting on whatever it was I was feeling, but then make things so much worse. Because I was sure the real thing would be a thousand times better.

Now that she was in my apartment and only a few feet from me, all of my earlier thoughts about her, the dress…and sex were forefront in my mind. Each one of my fantasies running through my head as if you were turning a page in a book. All of them still requiring her to remain in the dress.

Me lifting her up so her legs could be wrapped around my waist, as I pushed that enticing slit on her upper thigh up around her waist, and take her against the wall with the dress still on. Or maybe it was turning her from me so her back was towards my chest, before I bent her over and raised the material to her waist and took her….

Friend. She wants a friend. Knock it off.

"You can take I seat," I offered, my voice coming out thickly. "I won't bite."

I closed my eyes as another of my earlier images escaped and flooded behind my eyes, my lips on her neck as I bite the sensitive flesh there. And now I would have to adjust the cotton of my pajama bottoms so it didn't give away the evidence that I was thinking not very friendly things.

She walked over to my couch and sat down, letting out a long, approving, and content sigh. "This couch is amazing," she mused.

"I know. It took me forever to find."

Her hands smoothed out over the cushions going from her thighs and out and back. It was clearly not a sexual thing at all, but I couldn't stop my brain from thinking it anyway. I suddenly wondered what it would feel like if her hands went up and down my chest in that similar fashion.

Grannies. Babies. Marriage. Commitment.

I was back. I was focusing on her face again. "Well, it was definitely worth the wait," she replied.

She was stalling. Whatever it was that brought her here…she was suddenly second guessing wanting to talk about it. Did it have to do with why she was tired and her wrist and hands were injured a couple of days ago? I wanted to instantly push, but Lexie Grey could be like a caged animal. You pushed too far too quickly, and you could lose whatever progress you made in any sort of relationship in an instance.

The last thing I wanted to hear about was tonight, and specifically her date with the senator, but I had a habit of emerging myself in things that were not good for me. It was why I had to go to the gym and hit the punching bag repeatedly so I did not punch the good-looking senator instead.

"How did the evening go?" I asked.

She licked her lips. "It went fine. I think I might have made some good impressions with a couple of the donors, but I guess only time will tell," she answered.

I moved to sit down on my coffee table directly right across from her. I was aware that our knees were almost touching and that this was probably not my smartest moves to make. I should sit on the opposite end of the couch, or even the oversized chair directly next to my couch. For some reason, I just couldn't—or didn't want to—be too far away from her.

I cleared my throat. "If I know you like I think I do, I am sure you did wonderfully."

Her eyes snapped up towards me questioningly. She didn't believe me. "You really think that, don't you?"

"You don't?"

She held my gaze for a few seconds, before she looked away first, her chin to her shoulder as she gave another slight shrug. "Most times I just feel out of place. Like I am better off behind the scenes. You know?"

I shook my head left and right emphatically. "No, I don't. Even though it's only been a couple of weeks, I can tell you were born to stand out, Little Grey."

The way she was looking at me again was like she had after Mr. Patmore's case. Like I was some kind of hero and good guy. I was neither of those things. Even my brother and best friend would agree that I was neither of those things. I was only the guy that took what he wanted.

She laughed nervously, my words showing they had struck a chord in her. "Well, Senator Whittman would disagree. He practically used me to get a in with the donors and then just discarded me for most of the evening."

I clenched my hands at my side. The senator was a fucking idiot. If he was here, right now, I was pretty sure I would punch him squarely in the face regardless of whether he had a surgery or not. I could always patch him up later—if I was nice. After all, it was the benefit of being a surgeon.

How anyone could just discard Lexie Grey like she was nothing was beyond me. Even I could see that she was something so much more. Even if I was a guy that didn't do relationships, commitment, marriage, she was someone that would make a guy who did want those things very lucky someday.

That organ in the center of my chest felt like it was going to crack each one of my ribs. I wasn't that man, and I wasn't capable of giving her those things. I sucked in a large breath, because the only thing I could offer her was friendship and that was why she had come here to begin with. I would be the best damn friend she could ever have.

"He's an idiot," I said truthfully.

She chuckled. "I know." She looked away from me again. "Can you believe at the end of the night he had enough gall to then think I would want to…you know…go home with him?"

I felt the rubber band that was holding the control tightly begin to stretch and stretch until I was sure it was going to snap. It would not be good if Lexie was around me when that happened, because I was sure I was going to want to punch a lot of things. Hard. I was cursing that I didn't have a punching bag here in my apartment. Something I would need to rectify and soon.

"He what?" I growled. She flinched. I had to take a few quick breaths to attempt to put what I figured must've looked like a beast back in the cage. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't," she replied softly.

When our eyes met, something shot between us. It was cliché, but it was there…that spark. It was quick but strong and it meant we were both on dangerous territory. Especially with my control so close to snapping and a warm and large bed that was just in the other room. It was like all of a sudden, I had been transported back into earlier centuries were protectiveness and need to claim her were the only two important things that existed.

I let out a ragged breath. "You, um, you didn't…"

"God no," she said quickly, her features turning into a horrified expression.

I nodded, but I still had to know one more thing. It could set me over the edge to where I would want to walk out that door and smash his face in. "Did…he do anything inappropriate?"

She didn't meet my eyes and when she didn't answer me instantly, that answer had told me there had been something he had done. I could feel my entire body tense, my shoulders rise, and my jaw tighten. I'd kill him.

Finally, she shook her head. "Nothing I couldn't handle. I told him I was involved, and he seemed to back off after that."

"Good," I said through clenched teeth.

She still wasn't looking at me, which meant there was more she wasn't telling me. Something that I wanted to know more right now then even the idea of having sex.

"He thinks I am involved with you," she said suddenly.

I blinked at that. Had I been that transparent back at the hospital. If Derek had an inclination, I figured he would have ridden it off after he wasn't thrilled with the idea of Lexie going with him after he too saw her in that dress. I was against the thing from the start for very different reasons, but after he admitted he no longer liked the idea, I didn't think he would suspect anything.

"I told him that was crazy," she said quickly, looking vulnerable and exposed after I hadn't said anything.

My brows pinched together. "Why would that be crazy?"

She laughed a humorless laugh. "Because your you and I am me."

"I'm not following."

She tilted her head to the side as if she was trying to tell me to stop playing around. "You know…like you're a ten and I'm a—"

"I am going to stop you right there," I interjected my tone hard and clear that I would not accept her putting herself down. "Your worth far more than any number."

And we were back to her looking at me like I was a hero and some kind of good guy. Her lips were parted and she was looking at me like…did she want me? I could see the same indecision on her face. That same argument in her head that she was feeling something even though everything in the universe said the opposite. That couldn't be true. That couldn't be something I would even consider, because I even know that was slightly a possibility, I would be unstoppable to jump at it…and I was not the kind of man that Lexie needed. She needed a good guy. A guy I was not.

"James said you care about me," she disclosed.

So, it was James, now. The bastard. I noticed she was watching me and my reaction, so I had to mask it completely. My voice was another story. It was gruff and thick and betrayed me. "I do," I said earnestly. Then I lied. "As your friend and your teacher."

If I didn't know any better, I could have sworn she looked a little disappointed at that, but it was for the best. I wasn't someone she could want or need, and I couldn't give her everything she deserved.

She gave me a smile that definitely did not reach her eyes. "Friends," she said flatly.

Lexie

"What brought you here, Lex?" he asked.

Lex.

The last time anyone called me that was my mother. She had been the only one to ever give me that nickname, and once Mark uttered that nickname, it had just felt right. It hadn't felt right since my mother passed…and now it did.

Why was I here? Why had I stopped in front of his door, instead of just walking back the other way and going back to my apartment. Your surrounded by darkness. You shouldn't have to deal with it on your own. Eventually, it could swallow you whole. I needed a friend. Someone that I could talk too. Someone that I could trust. My own self just brought me here. To him.

I think that was a lie. I think I knew why I had come to him. Mark seemed to believe in me when it felt like no one else did. It was why he would push me harder sometimes. It was why he wouldn't just tell me what I wanted to hear or be nice to me because people might feel I was out of my depth because I was too sensitive or apparently cared too much. Mark didn't coddle me and it meant everything to me.

It didn't help matters that I was wearing his sweater that smelled just liked him. I had to keep fighting the urge to wrap my arms around my body and just lean back against the couch in comfort and warmth. It also didn't help matters that he chose to sit directly across from me our knees almost touching. Sometimes the intense looks he would give to me, would take my breath away.

Why was it that every time Mark Sloan was near me, I just wanted to lean into him? Melt into him. That was a scary thought and notion. He's, my boss. He's, my boss. Maybe if I said it enough it would diminish this feeling I was having inside.

He was a friend. A friend. He had just made that very clear. Even though there were times I swear he looked as if he wanted to throw me over his shoulder and go cave man style on me. I might be innocent with a lot of things, but I could tell that the dress I was wearing did a number on Mark. It didn't matter to me if James or any of the other men tonight that had done double takes at the gala liked it…I just seemed to only care what Mark thought about it.

I figured it was because I hadn't said anything in a couple of minutes, and I hadn't answered his question. About why I had come here. I was stalling now, because the thought of telling anyone what was going on…having it out in the open was big for me. Hard for me.

"Lex…" he said again.

When I looked up and met his eyes, I could already feel the beginning of the sting in the back of my eyes preparing me for what I was going to say. Because in a minute, I was going to slice myself open in the most vulnerable way possible—yes, more vulnerable than sex—and let someone in like I have never let anyone in before. Not my mother and certainly not Molly.

Mark the ever-perceptive man, caught my change in sudden mood, and noticed the moisture at the back of my eyes. He scooted further, and now our knees were touching. I felt his warmth just transfer into me, which made me relax even though I felt nothing but tension built up inside of me.

I looked back down at my lap, because I wasn't brave enough to look at him if I was going to say it. My hands were in my lap, my fingers twisting to the point where they were turning red from how tight I was holding them together. I felt a tiny twinge of pain in my wrist that was still healing. I no longer needed the bandage, but if I applied too much pressure, it still created a jolt of pain that would hurt. Like hitting your funny bone on your elbow.

I felt his fingers on my chin first, trying not to flee away from that touch, because it felt really really good. "Don't hide from me," he admonished, his voice thick with emotion.

I swallowed, but nodded as I looked up into his eyes. And then the words poured out of me. Everything that had happened to me in the last two months since my mother had died. That I felt there was some truth behind Mr. Jensen's words about me being surrounded in darkness, because I was surrounded in darkness. I was surrounded in the darkness of my father's loss and his inability to want to fight to the light.

Mark's expressions changed in a range of emotion. They went from sadness for me and my father, to anger, to pity. That was before I got to the big bombshell. The thing that I knew would make everyone look at me with that pity look that said, poor Lexie…she's just not strong enough.

"Little Grey, are you telling me the injury to your face and wrist came from your father?"

His words were eerily calm, even though I could see a storm raging inside. How did he know I had an injury to my face? My father had slapped me—his go to move—it hadn't left a bruise or a mark. It had been red the same night, but I had put enough makeup the next day that no one would be able to tell.

The words died in my throat. I couldn't say them out loud, so I just nodded instead. His eyes flashed with visible anger, and I could swear his shoulders shook with rage at me confirming that information. His hands that were at his side, were now resting on top of his thighs by his knees and they were tightly wound into fists. Saying Mark was angry was an understatement. He was raging and it definitely looked like he wanted to punch something.

Even with all of that rage that was mounting inside of him, his next words were so soft they were barely a whisper. "Are you ok?"

It was a loaded question. Physically, I was ok. The injuries always faded and healed. It was the emotional scars that were left behind, and that was where I wasn't ok. Because for the past couple of months, I was swimming in that pool of darkness all on my own. I couldn't bring myself to think that the man I knew all of my life, the man that loved me, could ever do something to bring me harm.

I sniffled, trying so hard to keep the moisture from falling from my eyes. Mark was up in a second, taking the place next to my side as his strong body curled next to mine, his arm coming over my shoulder so he could pull me into his side. That was when my tears started to spill like a dam. I felt his chin rest on top of my head as he just let the silence linger there between us while I unloaded months of pent-up sadness.

The arm that was around my shoulder squeezed and then moved up and down my arm, and even without words, just the comfort of Mark being next to me and holding me in the manner that he had, was slowly pushing back the darkness that I felt growing inside of me.

I wiped the streams of tears with the back of my hand. "He's not a bad guy," I defended.

Because that was what I always did. I defended him and made excuses for my father even though he didn't deserve either.

"Lex, there is nothing that you will be able to say that would ever make me think it is ok that he puts his hands on you," he said coolly.

"I know he doesn't deserve it," I sniffled. "I know that there is no excuse. It's just…" I trailed off with a sigh.

Mark pulled away so he could look at me, and instantly I missed the warmth from his body that was next to mine.

"Just what?"

I felt more tears brim at the back of my eyes. "He's my father," I cried.

He pulled me to his chest again, this time my head burrowed in as the next fresh wave of tears escaped out of me. After a while, when my tears seemed to subside and the only thing, I could hear steadily was the breathing in and out of the both of us.

I lifted my head away. Well aware of the both of us being so close. I figured I was far too emotional to be thinking straight, but that would also be an excuse. My eyes fell to his lips. Those lips that I seemed to think about more than I should. Dream about more than I should. Mark's safe. He's safe.

As if he could sense exactly what I had been thinking about, he instantly pulled away from me and stood as if he had just been burned. I tried not to let the disappointment show. I had come here for a friend. Needed a friend. It was unfair—not to mention totally wrong—to want anything else.

"I don't want you to go there alone anymore," Mark said urgently his back to me.

I shook my head even if he couldn't see it. "He's my father, Mark. I am all he has. Regardless of his faults—"

"No," he said cutting me off and turning to face me. "No excuses. No overlooking his faults. He doesn't get to lay a hand on you," he said sternly.

"I can't not go, Mark. If something were to happen to someone else because I didn't check on him, or stop him…that would be on me," I countered.

He shook his head as if it was so simple and I wasn't getting it. It wasn't meant as a demeaning way, but more of how I could not see how it was literally killing me.

"If something were to happen, that is on him, Lexie. Not you." He sighed, sitting back down on his coffee table so we were facing each other. This time he was careful to ensure none of our body parts were touching. "I can't begin to imagine what it must feel like to have a parent that you love so much you would do anything for them. Anything, including taking hits." His brows met over a stern line at that. "My mother died when I was young and my father took off after. I've only known that walking away is the easiest decision. That's it's the safest decision."

"Mark, I…"

He held his hand up indicating he wasn't done. "I know that isn't you, Little Grey. You're not the kind of person to walk away from anyone when things get tough. To stop loving someone even when you probably should." He paused, and it seemed like he was battling internally with himself at this next part. "What I am saying is…that you won't go there alone anymore. I will go with you."

My eyes widen. "I can't ask you to do that!"

He grunted. "You didn't ask. I'm offering." His mouth opened again before I could get the next words out of my mouth no doubt sensing I was about to object. "Before you tell me that's not what you want, or that you can handle this on your own…don't. I will never let anyone hurt you. Ever."

This time water was threatening to fill the back of my eyes for a very different reason. I was too struck with emotion to even reply, so the only thing I could do was nod numbly. His movement was slow and deliberately, but his hand rested on my knee.

"Thank you, for telling me, Lex. For trusting me," he said.

I was pretty sure in that moment; I could no longer call Mark Sloan my friend.

I woke disorientated in the dark sounds of the room outside of where I had fallen asleep. It took me a moment to realize I was not in my own room in my apartment, but on a couch in someone's else's apartment. It all came back to me then. The senator's gala and coming to Mark's place afterwards.

A blanket was placed on top of me a pillow rested under my head. I didn't even remember falling asleep. After I had told Mark about my dark and dirty secret, we had figured out the next opportunity that the both of us were off and he could come with me to my father's. As it was, I hadn't seen him in days. Not since…since he had hit me and hurt my wrist. We were both off tomorrow evening and determined that we could make a trip to check on him then. I already felt better knowing that I had Mark at my side.

Danger bells were going off in my head. This was bad. This was not good. I couldn't be having feelings for Mark Sloan other than then student to teacher or for a friend. There were just two many differences and I was so sure that even if things like our position and age weren't a factor, we were at odds on things like relationships. For starters, he didn't want any and I did.

His apartment was dark and quiet, but I could make out the time on the clock on his microwave as I pushed my hair from my face. It was just after three in the morning. I listened for another minute to make sure that it seemed Mark was still asleep, and then I stood as silently as I could.

I folded the blanket he had put on top of me and rested in on the pillow neatly. I was still wearing his Columbia sweater, and as much as I didn't want to take it off, if any of my roommates were still up and saw me wearing it…it would raise too many questions. It was already bad enough as it was based on the time of morning. No doubt, I was sure they were going to think that I had gone home with the senator and…and…

I removed the sweater, the chilly air already wrapping itself around my skin. I folded the sweater against my chest, taking a moment to get one last sniff—because I am that pathetic—and added it to the neatly folded pile. I took one last look down the hall where I was sure Mark's bedroom was, sighed, and then tiptoed out of his apartment and back to my own.

Mark

Waking up to an empty apartment was not what I had expected.

Somehow, in the middle of the night—without me hearing—and I was a light sleeper—Lexie Grey had snuck out on me. Is this what it felt like for woman when you snuck out on them after a one-night stand? On top of that, she left everything neatly folded and smelling of her. My entire apartment smelled like her and it was driving me crazy.

I showered and forgoed my normal routine, instead grabbing a bagel and coffee from the coffee shop close to the hospital.

"So, apparently your intern has mad womanly skills," said Callie as she slid up next to me as I entered the hospital.

I took a sip of my coffee. "What are you talking about?"

"Little Grey," she clarified. Apparently, my nickname was loved by all the residents now. "I overheard the Chief this morning said he already has two big donors that would like to schedule time with him to discuss Seattle Grace's projects," she said.

I tried to hide the smile behind my cup of coffee, but Callie noticed it. "I didn't doubt that she could pull it off."

Callie rolled her eyes. "I know. Your still good with your decision to not act on, well, you know."

I thought about Lexie in my apartment last night. Her body fit snuggly against mine. Her telling me about her father and the fact that in his drunken rages he was taking it out on her, and had to force myself to relax my grip.

"She's my intern, Callie. Nothing else," I said.

She shot me a sly grin. "So, then I was totally wrong about yesterday when you looked as if you wanted to grab her and take her into the on-call room and…"

"Callie," I groaned.

"Dr. Torres, Dr. Sloan just the people I wanted to see," Owen said, his face looking a little more panicked then normal.

"Chief," I said.

"Listen, I need to know. Do any of you have any cardiothoracic surgeons looking for a job?" he asked.

Callie's brows furrowed. "No. Why?"

"Because we need one," Owen replied.

Callie shook her head in confusion. "No…wait…that doesn't make any sense. We have Erica Hahn," she rebutted.

Owen looked to me and I already knew what Callie was seeming to not want to understand. Erica Hahn had up and left and not told anyone. On top of that, she up and left Callie—whom she started to form a relationship with—and by the look of shock and surprise on Callie's face…she hadn't been told either.

Owen cleared his throat looking uncomfortable. As far as I knew, Owen and myself were the only two that knew Callie and Erica were exploring that relationship. Owen for hospital purposes of disclosing a relationship, and me because I was her best friend.

"Dr. Hahn resigned last night."

Callie looked to me her eyes going wide, her mouth moving without words. "But why?"

"She didn't say. I'm sorry, Dr. Torres. But I need to fill her vacancy and soon." Owen turned to me. "Mark, are you aware of anyone from New York or through your contacts?"

Even if I did, right now in this moment, seeing the devastation on my friend's face, I couldn't give him a name. "Sorry, I don't. But I could ask around," I said.

"Thanks," he replied before turning and walking away.

I turned to Callie. "Cal, I'm sorry," she shook her head, her lips forming into a hard and determined line.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said.

"Callie…"

"I don't," she snapped. She gave me an apologetic look before she softened her tone. "Not now. Please, just let it go."

She turned and ran down the hallway, and I let her. Because Callie was one of the toughest women I know, but even I knew when to back off and give her some space. This was one of those times.

Rounds were completed with little issues or concerns. I hadn't seen Lexie since she became Houdini and left my apartment this morning, but as luck would have it, she was on my service again today.

I was over by the surgery board, when I noticed that Owen was standing there just staring at it like it would solve all its problems.

"More problems, Chief?"

He sighed, as he looked away from the board and over at me. "You have no idea." He lowered his voice. "On top of Dr. Hahn just leaving me high and dry, I now have the board pressuring me about new protocols that Seattle Presbyterian has implemented that they think would be great here."

There was a scowl on his face that told me whatever these protocols were, he didn't seem to like. "I take it you don't like them."

He shook his head. "No. They are robotic and take away from what makes doctors being great. The interaction. They claim it helps with efficiency," he scoffed.

"Are you talking about the Pegasus software?"

Owen and I turned just as Lexie was walking up towards us. She looked at me for only a split second, before she turned her attention to Owen. She was avoiding me.

Owen shook his head in disbelief. "How do you know about that software?"

"It was up and coming and talked about in the last year of our medical school program. In fact, Mass General was looking to implement it in their hospital, but I heard from one of my former classmates they passed on it after what they learned," she said.

I was curious now. "What did they learn?" I asked.

Lexie's eyes flickered to me for just a second. "That to focus on the efficiency side, it ended up giving doctors a list of questions to ask versus letting them conduct the exam on their own. They didn't want to take the chance of things getting missed because doctors would become less focused on follow-up questions by only sticking to the questions on the form. Or so I was told," she answered.

Owen let out a sigh. "I don't want that here. But I have to give the hospital board more than just hearsay."

Lexie jumped, her eyes twinkling. "I think I have an idea. What if we send some of our doctors to Seattle Presbyterian—undercover as patients—to test it out. We can bring back our findings and you can report that to the board."

Owen beamed at the idea, and I myself couldn't find fault with that. "That's a great idea, Dr. Grey." Then he turned to me and I could see what he was about to say and my head was already shaking. "You and Dr. Sloan go head over there now and put your plan into action."

I rubbed my face. "Uh, I don't really have the time. I have—"

"No surgeries scheduled," Owen said turning back to the board. Damnit. "And since Dr. Grey is assigned to your service today it works out. One less complication I have to worry about with scheduling."

Yeah, right. One less complication.

"Dr. Sloan is right. Maybe you might rather an another attending instead. This is a pretty important decision for the hospital," Lexie added.

Owen looked back and forth between us as if he was trying to decipher something. "I don't have anyone else to spare. Is there any reason why you two wouldn't be able to do this together?"

"No," we both said in unison.

Owen's smile returned. "Good." He turned to Lexie. "You keep up the great work, Dr. Grey, and you will be fast tracking to attending just like you did with school. I look forward to your report later."

He walked off leaving Lexie and me staring at each other.

This was going to be a long day.

Lexie

The ride over to Seattle Presbyterian was a little quiet and awkward—on my part. Mark was his normal self, but that was because he didn't have any reason not to be. I was the one that showed up at his door late in the evening and unloaded all of my drama on to his plate.

What was I thinking? He had said repeatedly that we were friends, but I should know better. He is my boss after all. The last thing he needed was to hear all of my drama. Drama that could potentially get me pulled from the program or place me on administrative leave if it interfered with my work. Which was exactly why going to the gala and even going on this undercover mission was something I would do. I was going to prove I was the best.

Mostly, I was avoiding Mark, because I was afraid that once he had time to think about everything…he would look at me like some wounded, helpless, woman that wasn't strong enough or capable to handle tough situations. He hadn't said or done any of that. In fact, he had proved the opposite. He still hadn't told anyone about how we had actually met or about how he had initially saved me from looking horrible on the first day.

And now he was going to swoop in again and save me from this difficult situation I had with my father. I could have just called Molly and told her what was going on. I know she would come right back and handle things, but then that would mean I would need to do two things. Destroy the only remaining positive image she had left about our father, and admit my failure that I couldn't handle it on my own. As much as I loved Molly, she would judge me and never let it down when the next time I wanted to handle something and she remembered back to this time.

Mark was the opposite. He didn't feel sorry for me or my situation. Just like on the first day when he felt that I was capable of being a good doctor, he didn't placate me and tell me what I wanted to hear. He told me what I needed to hear. It was the same thing with this situation with my father. He wasn't feeling sorry for me, but standing by me to help me face it on my own and work through it.

As Mark and I walked into the ER of the hospital, there were several ER beds that had patients waiting to see a doctor. Some were in various stages of injuries, and the doctor in both of us had to stop ourselves from wanting to jump in and help. Especially the ones where they were bleeding.

Mark and I agreed that he would be the one to check in and give a false name. I sat down in the small waiting room area just outside of the ER. A few minutes later, a nurse walked over to us.

"Mr. Callaway, you can follow us now," said the nurse. She looked over at me standing next to his side. "Of course, you can come too, Mrs. Callaway."

I was about to open my mouth to protest, until Mark's arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me next to his body. All words and thoughts seemed to just vanish from my vocabulary. Mark leaned in towards me, his lips so close to my ear that when he whispered, only I would be able to hear it.

"Go along with it, or they won't let you back," he said.

I nodded mutely, as we started to follow the nurse back to one of the vacant ER beds. She explained that a doctor would be right with us and then left.

"Mrs. Callaway?" I whispered harshly.

Mark plopped himself up on the ER bed and just smiled at me. "Don't blame me, this was your idea."

"I could have been your sister," I argued.

He laughed. "No one would believe you are my sister. We are just doing this to get the necessary information. I can count on you to play along so we can get what the Chief asked us to get, right?"

I groaned. "Yes. Of course."

He smirked. "Then you better start acting like you love me, because ER doctor headed our way."

A blonde hair doctor about as tall as Mark, but no where near as attractive or built as Mark started walking towards us. He looked closer to my age, maybe a year or two older. He was holding a electronic device in his hands as he walked up.

"Mr. Callaway. Mrs. Callaway. Welcome to Seattle Presbyterian. We are happy to treat you today."

He sounded so robotic as if he even had to read that statement directly from the device. Finally, after a minute, he looked up.

"That's me and my pumpkin," Mark said, flashing a wide grin showing his teeth, as his arm once again reached around my waist to pull me in.

I shot him a death glare. Pumpkin? I felt a tiny pinch at my side, biting my cheek so I didn't cry out. Mark's silent glance told me to start playing along. I played along all right. I turned sideways in so I could rest my one arm on his shoulder and the other directly on his chest.

"Thank goodness you're here, doctor. I have been so worried about my shoompie all day," I replied in the most concerned and annoying voice manageable.

Mark's corner of his lip quirked upwards as he arched his brow at my nickname for him. He pulled me towards him again, and I was well aware that my breasts were now pushed up against his arm.

"Yes, I see that it says you came in Mr. Callaway because you are experiencing chest pains."

Mark could be nominated for an Oscar at his performance. Grabbing at his chest, his expression contorted as if he was in terrible pain. "It's unbearable doctor," he replied. "If it wasn't for my honeypoo over here telling me we needed to come to the ER, I'm afraid I could drop dead."

I gasped. "The horror." I brought my hand to his cheek to trace it softly before I gave it a slight slap. "I couldn't think about living without my snookums."

"Uh-huh," the doctor replied, his head still engrossed in his tablet. "When did this start?"

"Two days ago. Right, baby doll?" Mark asked.

I tried not to laugh, but he was making it difficult. "That's right, sugar pie," I said.

The doctor asked a few more questions, hardly ever looking up. Mark and I hinted at giving him specific pieces of information that any doctor should be able to pick up on that could change the course of treatment or need. In this case, our doctor ignored it all just to get through checking off the questions dictated by the tablet.

"Alright. Let's get an EKG work up and see what we are working with. I will get this ordered and we will be right with you," the doctor said. He looked down at his tablet and then back at us. "And thanks again for choosing Seattle Presbyterian for your medical needs."

When he turned to walk away, I turned to Mark who still had his arm snuggly around my waist. "That whole consult was horrible."

Mark scoffed. "I would be dead because instead of figuring out that I am possibly on the verge of a hemothorax and not a heart attack. He didn't pick up on anything. Idiot."

"I know," I agreed.

Mark looked over at me and I realized how close we were since I was still leaning against him and he still had an arm around my waist. All I had to do was lean in and we would be kissing. I seemed to be drawing in closer to him until he cleared his throat and then I came to my senses and stepped back. His arm fell from around my waist, and I felt like I could finally breath again.

"Although your pet nicknames need work," he jested.

"Me?" I said affronted. "You think honeypoo was a good nickname?"

We both laughed and the air in our little corner seemed to get thicker. Playing boyfriend and girlfriend with Mark Sloan was closer to blurring the lines then I cared for. Because inside of it feeling wrong with all of the differences between us, it felt way too right. It stirred feelings in me that I now knew I had either been trying to hide or shove back down.

I cleared my throat and broke the contact first. "You think we have enough to get the board to be on our side?"

He nodded. "I do. Your pretty impressive with your undercover and schmoozing skills," he said.

I tried to hide my blush. "You're not so bad yourself. I mean the undercover and faking a relationship. I know that's not really your thing."

His eyes were full of earnest. "I don't know…maybe I shouldn't knock something I haven't tried.

I should step away, especially with him saying something like that and the fact that he is my boss, but the conviction in his eyes rooted me in place.

The sound of the curtain that had closed us into our little cocoon of privacy opened, and a nurse walked in. "Hi, I am here to get your EKG started." She looked at Mark and her cheeks flushed a little more her lips spreading into a smile. "I am going to need you to remove your shirt."

Was she seriously trying to flirt with him while I was standing right here? His wife? Well, pretend…but still. She didn't know I was not really his wife. My lips pressed together as I looked at the rather petit nurse with big breasts and a tiny waist act like I wasn't even there.

My attention snapped to Mark when I noticed that he started to unbutton the first two buttons of his shirt. I swallowed. I was about to open my mouth to make an excuse that I could go to the restroom or move to the waiting room, but then that wouldn't make sense if I was actually Mrs. Callaway and he and I were in love as we had been playing up to just until now.

As Mark got to the last of his buttons undone, both sides of his shirt fell away, I got a very good glance at the toned pecks of his chest and the ripple of his abs. My mouth went dry. Awfully dry. My gaze went up and down as if I was typing on a typewriter going left and right every few seconds. He maneuvered his shoulder forward so he could slip the material off his shoulder.

"Honey?"

I blinked; realizing he was talking to me. He smirked; and I knew I was caught. I was caught checking out my fake husband's extremely hot body. He held out his shirt and my feet moved instantly to take it from him, our fingers brushing against each other.

Another hour later, we were discharged after we refused additional testing when his EKG—surprise—didn't show any issues with his heart. Most of our ride back and been in silence. When we got back to Seattle Grace, we went straight to Owen's office to give him the information. He was happy with our findings and felt that it was exactly what he needed to persuade the board to not want us to go to this horrible system.

As we left the Chief's office, we walked side by side since technically both of our shifts were over today.

"Today was pretty fun," said Mark. "You're not such a bad wife."

I laughed. "You're not that bad of a husband either," I teased.

He grinned. "I was a great husband. Very loving and attentive. You wouldn't be able to find better than me."

I shook my head. "Someone thinks highly of themselves."

He turned; causing me to crash right into him. My face smacking directly into that solid wall of a chest. His arms came up to my arms to steady me as I bounced off him. I was about to say—what the hell, when my mouth just hung open at the intensity in his eyes.

He bent down and leaned towards my ear. We were in the middle of the hospital where anyone could spot us easily, but he didn't seem to care and I was frozen in place unable to care. His words caressed my ear as if he was touching me himself.

"I do think highly of myself. I aim to please."

My breath hitched, as he pulled back smirking; his eyes twinkled. By the time I realized that he was teasing me; he turned laughing as he walked down the hallway of the hospital.

I'm in big trouble.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed.