A/N: Hey again! This is chapter two of this songfic. The way things are going now, there will be at least two more chapters, possibly three depending on how long each of them ends up being. I have a few ideas for the second verse that I'm excited to write—there will be more happier flashbacks featuring some of the other characters, too. The single line of bridge in this song is really powerful, as well, and even though I'm really excited to write it, I don't want to rush through the rest of the story.
Okay, on to review replies! I mentioned this in my last Lexie/Meredith fic, but I really like doing review replies at the beginning of the chapters. I've done that with stories from the other fandoms I've written, and it really helps me keep in touch with those reading and kind of get to know you readers a bit more.
Patsy — Thank you! As a writer, one of the best things is to hear someone say one of my works has made them cry or laugh or feel some form of emotion. (: Thanks again, I will definitely continue!
Greybc — Thank you so much! (:
sarazimmermann1 — Sorry to break your heart, but thanks so much! (:
booksjinx — Aw, thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed it!
Guest — Thanks for the review! Here is the update. (: And I'll definitely consider it if I can think of a good enough storyline. It sounds like a cute idea. Thanks! (:
Sarah — I love Meredith and Lexie, too! Thanks for the review!
Without further ado, onto chapter two! (Heh, I rhymed.)
But you went away
How dare you
I miss you
They say I'll be okay
But I'm not going to ever get over you
The cool, February air immediately met the exposed skin of her neck and face, and she involuntarily shivered a little. She pulled the sweater a little tighter around her thin frame and sat down on the swinging bench—the one that hadn't swung for years upon years until Thatcher had removed the pin that he had stuck there several decades ago. He had told her she used to get her fingers pinched in it, so he put it there to prevent her from injuring herself further. But now it swung freely, old hinges squeaking slightly as she gently swung back and forth, back and forth. It was around the time the sun usually set, but it had been gloomy and cloudy all day with no signs of the sun's comforting rays warming the chilly air. She leaned back and looked up at the monotonous grey sky, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. Maybe it was the somber weather, maybe it was the eerily-quiet house, maybe it was something else entirely; but today had just been one of those days—one of those days where she just missed Lexie a little more than usual. She always missed her, of course, but she wasn't this sad and dark and twisty and mopey all the time. The day held no significance in which missing one's deceased sister would be expected, like her birthday or favorite holiday or death anniversary. It was just a day, a single day out of the 365 in the year, and she really, really missed Lexie.
She allowed her dreary mind to wander, and she couldn't help but remember numerous conversations she and Lexie had had on this very swing. By an unspoken agreement, it had, in a way, become "their" place to talk, usually late at night. Mornings were filled with drowsy stumbling and spilled cereal and frantic bustling around to get out the door on time. They worked in the same hospital, of course, and some days they would see each other just about every other minute. But some days they were each busy with their own patients and only saw each other in passing, just long enough to give a friendly smile and exchange quick pleasantries. But regardless of where their work days took them, they could always count on seeing each other at night, if even just for a few minutes. Some nights it was so late that it was technically morning, but nonetheless, those few hours in between work and the sun rising were pretty much the only times they were guaranteed to both be around. Sometimes one or both of them would be especially tired and they'd only exchange a few fatigued sentences before going to bed, but other nights, they would stay up for hours and just talk. There was never a pre-determined topic, and there wasn't even a spoken invitation. Neither of them had to say, "Hey, wanna go outside and talk?" It was just automatic, routine. Some nights it was evident that one of them needed to talk, and those nights usually included a bit of alcohol. But usually it was just getting-to-know-each-other type of talk. They had missed out on the entirety of each other's lives, save the most recent few years, and there was a lot to catch up on.
But one night in particular, they hardly spoke at all for nearly an hour. They had had an argument earlier that day about something, though she now had a hard time remembering what they were bickering about. She was pretty sure it started as something work-related, but because of who Lexie was as a person, she tended to take things more personally than intended; and because of who Meredith was as a person, she had likely said some harsh things that she hadn't meant. But if she was honest, she wouldn't have a definitive answer to the question of why they were arguing that day, though she bet it was something stupid and trivial. But what she did remember was that what started out as a tense, somewhat awkward silence ended in Lexie's head resting on her shoulder and cheerful laughter from both of them.
They had argued earlier that day in the resident's locker room. Though that admittedly wasn't the most appropriate place to conduct a heated argument, they were both exhausted from the day and their exhaustion turned into hostility. And it wasn't the passive-aggressive, eye-rolling, muttering-under-their-breaths type of argument that blew over in a few minutes—it was the loud, angry, flushed face and raised voice and vehement hand motions kind of arguing that sent even Cristina and Alex scrambling for their things and high-tailing it out the door. They had each screamed more than enough earlier, and at that point, there was nothing left to say without the circular argument heating up again. The car ride home was filled with a tense, uncomfortable silence, one that Derek didn't even try to break. Meredith didn't speak, and for once, neither did Lexie. They didn't even turn on the radio—they just sat there wordlessly, Meredith concentrating on the road, Derek pretending to be preoccupied on his phone, and Lexie staring blankly out the backseat window.
"You two are adults," Derek declared once they had gotten home, brows furrowing in frustration, annoyed that they were acting so childish about it. "Act like it. You've both been giving each other the silent treatment for half the day. Whatever your problem is, figure it out like adults." Lexie tossed a glare at Derek before stomping upstairs, and Meredith stormed to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, leaving Derek still standing in the doorway with an exasperated expression on his face. Giving up, he retreated to the living room to read the paper and watch television, banking on the two sisters working things out themselves. He knew Meredith could hold one hell of a grudge, but Lexie didn't have a mean bone in her body to hold any type of grudge for long. And who could stay mad at endearing little Lexie when she got all stutter-y and teary-eyed? They'd work it out, he was sure of it. Hopefully soon, because he was sick of the strained feeling hanging in the air whenever the two of them were near each other.
Upstairs, Lexie was pacing around her room, too annoyed to sit down. What the hell had happened today? Sure, she had said some things she knew would agitate her sister, but Meredith hadn't had the nicest things to say to her, either. Why couldn't Meredith just see things from her point of view for once? Sometimes it felt like her relationship with her older sister was great—they could talk and laugh for hours on end yet still work side-by-side in a professional manner. But other times, like today, she felt it sliding backwards, and that scared her a little. Exhaling in frustration, she collapsed on her bed, laying back and rubbing her eyes tiredly. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep now—not when she was still angry and her mind was racing a hundred miles a minute. What she needed was some fresh air. Yes, she decided, she would take a walk. Although it probably wasn't the smartest decision this late at night, she reasoned that she wouldn't go far, just around the block a few times to get some air and clear her mind. With that thought, she threw a thin sweatshirt on over her t-shirt and quietly left her room.
In the kitchen, Meredith rummaged through the cabinets in search of a clean mug and bag of tea. Maybe the warm liquid would help calm her down, Meredith thought as she began heating the water and recounting the day's events. Where had that argument come from, anyways? It had started about something relating to a patient they had, and it had somehow escalated to both of them yelling at each other and causing their co-workers to run for the hills. Had she said things she didn't mean and would take back, given the chance? Yes, Lexie had done her fair share of yelling, too. She didn't yell often, but when she did, she basically blew up. Both of them had the unfortunate tendency of spitting out some pretty hurtful and childish things when they were angry, but unlike Lexie, Meredith had a harder time forgiving them. Swirling the tea bag around in the steaming water, she quietly sighed. She thought about joining Derek in the living room, but he'd likely only lecture her on her personal relationship with her sister, and she wasn't really in the mood. She then thought about retreating to her room upstairs, but Lexie had stormed up there and she really didn't want to risk bumping into her right now. Not wanting to just sit around in the kitchen, she slipped out the front door and perched on that old, wooden swing. She pulled her feet up onto the seat and leaned against the armrest. The night air was comfortable—warm but not too warm with a light, refreshing breeze. It was a peaceful night, too, with the crickets chirping happily and not a cloud in the sky, the moon casting a calming glow on the earth beneath it. She took a few deep breaths of the fresh, nighttime air and closed her eyes for a moment. She had almost managed to relax and forget about the fact that she was angry with Lexie, when that very person came walking out the door. Her head involuntarily snapped up at the noise of the door opening and closing, and Lexie—clearly surprised to see her sister sitting outside instead of with Derek or in her room as she expected—stopped in her tracks. Her guard immediately flew up again and she tensed slightly, internally debating on whether to go back inside or continue on. Their eyes met for just a moment before Lexie turned and quickly hurried down the steps, off into the night. Meredith almost asked her where she was going or what she was doing, but she was still irritated with her and quickly decided she didn't care. Lexie was an adult, if she wanted to walk around in the middle of the night, who was she to stop her?
Shaking her head slightly, she went back to staring upwards, looking at nothing in particular as she let her thoughts wander freely. She had once again almost relaxed and had gotten her mind off of being annoyed, when Lexie returned. She had only been gone for twenty minutes or so, but her face was slightly flushed as if she'd been walking quickly for a while. When Lexie saw Meredith still sitting there, she again hesitated, remembering Derek's words of acting like an adult. Fine, she thought to herself, I can act like an adult. I can totally sit in the same vicinity as her and not start arguing again. Whether it was truly an act of swallowing her pride or just one of spiting her sister (who she knew would probably prefer to be alone), she wasn't sure. But nevertheless, she walked across the porch and sat down on the swinging bench on the opposite side Meredith was perched, careful not to rock the swing as she sat as far away from her sibling as the bench would allow. Meredith didn't speak, didn't acknowledge that Lexie had sat down near her. The only move she made was to set her feet back on the ground and cross one leg over the other. Likewise, Lexie sat silently, not greeting her sister nor giving an explanation as to why she chose to sit down. They both privately wondered why the other didn't just get up and leave, nor why they themselves were still sitting there. Lexie was supposed to be pissed at Meredith, and Meredith was supposed to be pissed at Lexie. So why were they both still sitting in awkward silence, both too stubborn to be the one to break it?
But if they were being honest, neither of them really wanted to argue and be mad at each other, not anymore. They were both already beginning to forget what they had been so angry about only hours before, and both were tiring of the uncomfortable strain between them. Now it was just a matter of who would be the first to get over themselves and speak.
Lexie absentmindedly fiddled with the black hair binder around her wrist, trying to think of something, anything to say. She wanted to apologize, but try as she might, she just couldn't find the words to say. That sounds pretty dumb, she realized, because one would think that finding the words to apologize wouldn't be that hard—the definition of an apology was, after all, pretty much the exact two words one needed to say. She could never really find the right words to say to those close to her, though. She was great at the hospital—even the Chief had told her she had a "way with words" with patients and their families. But when it came to personal matters, she sometimes just couldn't get her mind to formulate what to say.
Unaware of Lexie's silent musings, Meredith's mind wandered to one of the first interactions she'd had with Lexie without wanting to run away, almost forgetting that the subject of the memory now sat less than two feet away from her. Well, now that she thought about it, perhaps the term "interaction" was a bit generous on her part. Lexie, as per usual, had done all of the talking, after all; Meredith had merely stared at her and listened, then watched as she walked off. That day, she learned five things about Lexie that her younger sister hoped would make it harder for Meredith to hate her. Although she wouldn't have admitted it out loud at the time, those five things really did help Meredith dislike her sibling just a little less. She never truly hated Lexie as a person—hell, she had never even disliked Lexie. The girl was one of the most likable people she'd ever met. But she hated the idea of her at first. It took a while for Meredith to realize that she hated the idea of Lexie and the feelings she unknowingly stirred up inside Meredith from the past, not Lexie herself. It had taken months of Lexie prodding her and slowly worming her way into Meredith's life for the latter to finally begin accepting her. But Lexie was always the initiator, the instigator, the one who always got over her own discomfort and embarrassment and whatever else she was feeling, and spoke first. And now, Meredith thought, maybe, just maybe, it was her own turn to speak first.
"One, I had pink hair for most of high school," Meredith finally said before she could change her mind, breaking the extended silence between the two. Lexie's head shot up to look at her sister, but remembering that she was still supposed to be angry, she looked away again. "And not a pale, relaxed pink. It was bright and angry, right in everyone's faces."
"Okay," she muttered cooly, trying to sound apathetic despite her curiosity as to why Meredith had randomly blurted that out. "Great." She had to admit, though: she was pretty amused at the image of teenaged Meredith with "angry" pink hair.
"Two, I hate when people change the channel during commercials," Meredith continued, ignoring the brunette's seemingly-indifferent response. "Three, I think Chinese food is gross, I can't stand it. Four, I lost my virginity to a guy named Paul Waxman my sophomore year of high school. And five," she finished, "my favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry."
Seeing what Meredith was getting at, a smile toyed at the corners of Lexie's mouth, and she shyly looked up. Meredith was already looking at her, the same smile tugging at her lips, too. Letting her guard down, Lexie gave in to the smile and laughed, silently appreciating that her sister had remembered that moment and held it in some kind of significance to bring it up again now.
"Sophomore year, huh?" Lexie finally spoke, her features forming into a smirk as she relaxed and slid closer to Meredith, closing the awkward gap between them. "You were what, sixteen? Not bad."
Tension in the air dropping, Meredith loosened up, too, allowing the barrier around herself to fall down. "Fifteen," she corrected, "but don't be too impressed. He was good-looking, but that guy had absolutely zero idea what he was doing. It's not like I was some sex god, either, but I had at least paid attention in health class long enough to know how to open and put on a condom in a socially-acceptable amount of time."
Lexie tossed her head back laughing, and Meredith laughed, too, happy that they finally seemed to be over their fallout. "What, did you put it on for him?" Lexie joked.
"Yes," Meredith answered, chuckling but being entirely honest. "Yes, I did. And unfortunately I was stone-cold sober."
"Oh gosh, eww!" Lexie squealed, simultaneously laughing and cringing at the thought. "That's just... weird!"
"Yeah, not that guy's finest moment," she agreed, shaking her head at the mere idea of Paul Waxman. She briefly wondered what—or who—he was doing now. Regardless, she sincerely hoped he'd worked out his bedroom etiquette by now.
"I can't believe you had pink hair," Lexie chuckled, amused at the thought of a young Meredith walking through the halls of her high school with a head full of bright pink hair.
"Unfortunately I did," she confessed, "and somewhere in that attic, I have pictures to prove it."
"You'll have to show them to me sometime," Lexie commented with a humored smile.
"I'm sure you'd love that." They smiled at each other and fell into silence, though this time it wasn't awkward or tense—it was a comfortable, content human silence, both of them wordlessly looking out into the night.
"I was a cheerleader," Lexie said after a few quiet moments. Meredith turned her head to look at her sister. "In high school, I was a cheerleader."
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Meredith commented with a chuckle. She had known Lexie played softball, as she had seen herself that her sister had a good arm. She hadn't known about the cheerleading, but she wasn't at all surprised. She could totally see Lexie's spunky, high school self jumping around in a short skirt, waving pompoms in the air on the sidelines of a football game. She'd probably had her hair tied up with a big ribbon and loudly yelled those chants that Meredith had found incredibly annoying back during her own high school days. She couldn't stand sports games. She had gone to one and she had hated it so much that she left after ten minutes. She didn't care about sports, for one, but she also couldn't stand the obnoxious, perky girls on the sidelines or the non-stop screaming of the crowd. "You were one of those girls my high school self would've hated," she added lightheartedly.
"So I take it you weren't into sports?" Lexie laughed, trying to picture a younger, pink-haired Meredith doing anything athletic.
"Definitely not," she confirmed, laughing at the mere idea. "I was part of that group that stood in the corner, wore a lot of black, had crazy-colored hair, and listened to really loud music that scared most normal people." Lexie laughed, remembering how that kind of group at her high school had creeped her out. "I hated the idea of pretty much anything that normal high schoolers would probably enjoy, like football games or prom or whatever."
"Really? You never went to prom?" Lexie asked incredulously, eyes widening in disbelief. She had loved prom—getting all dressed up and taking cute pictures and all the pretty flowers and dancing the night away with friends. She couldn't imagine anyone choosing not to go... But then again, it's not like Meredith was really into that type of thing.
"Hell no," Meredith answered with strong conviction, furrowing her brow in disgust at the notion. "I wouldn't have been caught dead at prom. My friends and I always had an anti-prom on the actual prom night. We'd dress in our worst clothes and go out and do something really boring, like bowling or watch a movie, then go to someone's house and order pizza and just lay around until we went to bed."
"Wow," Lexie laughed, shaking her head. "Prom was like the highlight of my high school career."
"Let me guess, you were like, prom queen or something?" Meredith questioned with a grin, pulling her legs up onto the bench and turning slightly so she faced Lexie more.
"Guilty," Lexie admitted a little sheepishly, cheeks turning slightly red.
"Called it," Meredith laughed, easily imagining Lexie in the outgoing, popular crowd—that group of girls that played sports and loved dances and had perfect makeup and could turn guys' heads in every room they walked into. The one part that surprised her, though, was that in her high school at least, those preppy girls generally weren't very... bright. Lexie, on the other hand, with her photographic memory, had to have been pretty great at school. Sure, sometimes her street smarts lacked a bit and she wasn't too great with words, but she couldn't imagine Lexie ever getting bad grades. "Were you the girl who got upset over an A-minus, too?" she questioned with an amused smile.
"Heh, yeah," Lexie answered, suddenly a little self-conscious. "I, uh, may have been valedictorian."
"Figures," Meredith replied, imagining 17-year-old Lexie giving a speech at graduation with colored cords dangling from her neck. Lexie had mentioned before that she skipped third grade, plus she had a late birthday, so she had always been the youngest in her class.
"But, uh, the smart gene seems to run in the family," she continued, quickly changing the subject. "Were you good at school, too?"
"Probably could've been," she allowed with a shrug, "but I didn't really try too hard. I didn't fail classes or repeat a year or anything, but I didn't really care that much. I did enough to pass the classes and graduate, but that's about it. I blame it on my daddy issues," she added with a chuckle. She was joking, or at least half-joking—yeah, her broken family life had made it pretty hard to concentrate on schoolwork, but she could've done really well if she had just set her mind to it. Oh well, it was a thing of the past, and, as luck would have it, she ended up just fine. As it turned out, one's grades in high school and college really didn't matter in the real world. Who would've thought?
Although Meredith had meant the "daddy issues" comment as a joke, Lexie tensed up a little, seeing the truth in it. While it was ultimately Meredith's choice to let things slide, there was some truth to her remark, whether Meredith herself had seen it or not. She couldn't help but feel like she was partially to blame for why Meredith was so dark and twisty. She knew there really wasn't anything she could've done about it, but it just didn't seem fair to her that she had gotten a wonderful childhood with so many happy memories of two parents who loved each other and her more than anything else, while another little girl, her sister, who by no fault of her own had no father around and a mother who was callous and mean. Suddenly saddened, her gaze flickered down, though she tried to hide it with a smile when Meredith glanced at her.
Sensing Lexie's sudden discomfort about the topic, Meredith lightly nudged her. "I was just joking, Lex. My daddy issues aren't your fault." Lexie still seemed unconvinced, but she smiled anyways. "Really," Meredith continued, trying to reassure the girl. "If he wouldn't have left me, we probably wouldn't have met, or you might not even be here." And it was true: Had Thatcher stayed with Ellis and Meredith, he wouldn't have started a life with Susan, and Lexie wouldn't have been born. "I'd take daddy issues in exchange for a really great little sister any day."
"Aww," Lexie gushed, a genuine smile returning to her face as she met Meredith's gaze. She even blushed a little, clearly flattered by her sister's comment. Lexie instinctively leaned her head on Meredith's shoulder, brown hair spilling onto the latter's shirt as she relaxed into her older sibling. Meredith smiled to herself and squeezed Lexie's leg in acknowledgement.
And that's how they sat for the next couple hours or so, sometimes talking, sometimes just staring out at the calm, night sky. They sat like that until Lexie fell asleep on her shoulder. Meredith hadn't wanted to wake her because she'd looked so peaceful, but if the two of them slept like that for the night, they'd both have a painfully-regrettable neck ache the next morning. Careful not to drastically rock the swing, Meredith gently prodded the brunette and she sleepily raised her head.
"Hm, wha... Oh... Sorry, did... Did I fall asleep on you?" she asked in a bit of a daze.
"Yeah, but it's okay," Meredith replied with a smile. Lexie groggily smiled back. "Let's go inside and get some sleep," she suggested. "God knows we could both use it." Looking as if she was half asleep already, Lexie just nodded tiredly and allowed Meredith to gently take her hand and lead her inside, up the stairs, and to her room. The light in her room was off and neither of them bothered turning it on—Meredith knew that house well enough to get just about anywhere in the dark. She gingerly led Lexie through the blackness until she felt the bed, which she lightly pushed Lexie towards. Still in jeans and the sweatshirt she'd thrown on earlier, the younger woman crawled under the covers and promptly relaxed.
Meredith thought she had fallen asleep instantly and was about to turn to leave, when Lexie opened her eyes just a little. "Thanks, Mer," she murmured tiredly, a grateful smile on her face. She could've gotten through the house, up the stairs, and into bed by herself, but she secretly enjoyed Meredith mothering her a bit, so she allowed her older sister to guide her.
Meredith just smiled in return, and although Lexie couldn't see her sister's face, she could hear the smile through the warmth in her soft voice. "Good night, Lex."
The memory seemed so vivid, so real, that if she concentrated hard enough, she could almost see Lexie next to her, curled up on that swing. She could almost hear her soft, thoughtful voice talking about her life and asking Meredith about hers. She could almost feel her sister's head on her shoulder, could almost hear her slow, rhythmic breathing as she fell asleep against her.
Almost, almost... But she couldn't, and she wouldn't see or hear or feel those things ever again.
Meredith's eyes filled with tears, and she didn't bother trying to blink them back. Lexie wasn't here, not anymore. She was gone, dead, and she couldn't come back. The tears began to slide down her cheeks, and she made no move to wipe them away or try to stifle the emotion. How could Lexie just go off and die and leave her behind? Why did it have to be her? Why did Lexie had to die that day instead of someone else, even herself? Of all the people on that plane, Lexie was the most bubbly, genuine, and full of life. She was a wonderful doctor, always so good with patients and their families, something that even Meredith struggled with. She was unbelievably kind to just about everyone she met, so why did she have to die when people like herself—a dark and twisty soul that used coarse hostility to cover her inability to let people in—got to live to see another sunrise? It's not that she had wanted to die in that crash, nor did she want to die now—no, she had a beautiful baby girl who needed a mommy and a loving husband who needed a wife and numerous other friends she couldn't bear to leave behind. But when she saw Lexie under that plane... If there had been any way in the world for her to switch somehow, so that Lexie would be okay and could become an even more amazing doctor and start a family and continue living, she would have taken her place in a heart beat. It just wasn't fair that such wonderful people die and leave so many broken hearts in their wake.
And now, as her thoughts continued to wander, she was beginning to get angry.
Angry at Lexie for getting trapped under a plane and dying, even though she knew that wasn't a fair reason; angry at everyone who tried to reassure her with meaningless cliché phrases, even though she knew they meant well; angry at Jerry the pilot, even though the poor man was now paralyzed for the rest of his life and she knew it wasn't his fault; angry at the trees that ripped the plane apart, even though they were just trees doing what trees do; angry at the plane itself for not doing its one job, even though she knew it was just a hunk of metal; angry at the mechanics or whoever had worked on that plane and declared it safe to fly, even though she knew it was merely a freak accident; and most of all, angry at herself for not being there when Lexie died to hold her hand and tell her how much she meant to her. And for that one, there was no "even though" that followed. To her, there was no excuse that could ever justify why she wasn't there when Lexie died. She was glad Mark was there, at least, and that she wasn't all alone—he had cared about her deeply, after all, and she knew Lexie cared about him, too—but she herself should have been there. She should have known the moment she saw her sister's small, injured body trapped under that huge plane that she wouldn't survive, that she was dying. But in a state of shock or stupidity or a little of both, she had believed that Lexie would be fine. She was awake, responsive, and a Grey—she had to be fine, she'd survive this. She'd have to do a lot of physical therapy and it wouldn't be easy, but she would make it. Looking back, that was the most heartbreakingly-blind hope she had ever tried to hold on to. She was a doctor, for God's sake. She should've been able to see there was no way that poor Lexie's battered and bruised body could win a battle as big as that. She didn't stand a chance against a few thousand-foot fall and several tons of bent-up metal. And instead of running to her side and holding her shaking hand and telling her how much she loved her, she had instead held on to that stupid, false hope and ran off to find Derek instead. She was beyond grateful that Derek survived, of course, but she wished more than anything that she would've been with her sister when she died, if only to make her feel just a little bit less scared in her final moments. But instead she had left Lexie—her kind, sweet, beautiful little sister who always put others before herself and loved with an unconditional fervor—to die under a plane with no true family in sight.
And that's when she knew. With tears streaming down her face and an unbelievable ache in her chest, she knew that she would never get over Lexie. She had left a huge mark on Meredith's life that nobody could ever fill, nor would she want anyone else to fill it. The innocent, annoying, overly-persistent girl who had interrupted the flow of traffic at the ER doors years ago, had slowly become someone Meredith loved and cared about, far deeper than she had ever expected. She had become her friend, her family. She knew, deep down, that it wouldn't hurt this bad forever. Time heals all wounds, after all. They're never completely healed and restored to what they were before, because Time—try as he might—just doesn't have that strong of powers. But it always heals a little. It stops bleeding and scabs over and leaves a scar. The pain eventually fades just a little, and that sharp sting that made it hard to breathe slowly ebbs away, little by little. It never stops hurting entirely, but the soul-crushing agony doesn't last forever.
Yes, the pain will eventually become less earth-shattering and the mention of her name won't feel like knife to the stomach, but although the constant pain would eventually dull, she knew one thing for sure: She would never, ever be able to get over Lexie.
A/N: And there ya' have it, chapter two. It's pretty sad at the end, I'll admit, so I'm sorry for that. But I loved writing that longer flashback/memory, and I think it's a pretty cute scene between them. So hopefully you guys think the same! Oh, and in case anyone was curious, Meredith's five facts were all canon and were mentioned at various points throughout the show, but some of what Lexie said about her life was stuff I fabricated for the storyline. It is said/implied at some point that she skipped third grade and was prom queen and valedictorian in high school, as well as very popular, so I thought those were nice to add in. And in the baseball game episode, she is shown to have a strong arm, so it made sense to me that she'd played softball/baseball before. The cheerleading thing was just something I threw in, but couldn't you totally see a younger Lexie as a cheerleader?
Anyways, thank you guys so much for reading, and please leave a review if you liked it. I absolutely love hearing from you guys! (: