A/N I'm not even going to try and excuse myself for my lack of updates. I promised them ages ago and I broke said promise. I suck. I do offer a new chapter though :) A little late to coincide with valentines day but... Enjoy anyway, lol. Speaking of which, how was everyone's valentines day? Mark/Lexie styled lovely or horrendous? Let me know via the review button... And tell me what you thought of the chapter as well of course :)

Chapter Five – This Is Not a Love Song

Fourteen Weeks

She frowned as the calendar in front of her confirmed her fears. Fourteen weeks. It may as well have sixteen. Or eighteen. Four and a half months.

Half way.

She'd never really considered how terrifying the words 'half way' were but now at almost eighteen weeks pregnant and half an hour short of moving into her new apartment with Mark Sloan she was beginning to realize.

With a sigh she pulled her unkempt hair out of its unkempt pony tail and straightened her blouse.

It hadn't taken Mark long to find them a spacious modern apartment only a few minutes from the hospital. Lexie had almost blanched at the price but it really wasn't her place to be concerned. Mark had offered to keep her and she had graciously accepted. The end.

She gnawed at the top of her water bottle apprehensively as the minutes ticked by. It was the first time since they'd paid the bond that they'd been off at the same time. After tonight they'd be officially living together.

8:40

"There you are! I've been looking for you all day."

George's voice made her jump a little in fright. He didn't seem to notice as he slid into the seat next to her.

"You have?" She was sure the shake in her voice gave her away.

"Yeah. There are boxes in our apartment."

With a jolt she realized in her emotional turmoil she'd forgotten to tell George she was moving out. She swallowed nervously. How was she going to explain this?

"I'm… Err… Moving out."

Confusion adorned George's boyish features as he played with the words; "Moving out? When?"

"Uh… Fifteen minutes actually. Probably twenty five. Depending on traffic."

She hadn't expected him to look hurt. In fact, she'd expected relief. There had been such an abundance of awkward avoidance between the two of them over the last four months she hadn't even been completely sure George remembered who she was. Or that they lived in the same apartment.

"Why?"

Now there was a tough one. What was she supposed to say to that? She and Mark had tried to keep things as discreet as possible but word always got out at Seattle Grace and she wasn't ready for word to get out just yet (as naïve as that sounded.) She knew telling George was pretty much akin to telling the whole hospital because he'd tell Izzie who'd tell Alex who would tell pretty much anyone who listened. Well that wasn't entirely fair. Alex really didn't hold enough interest in her affairs to tell anyone about them. It was the kind of nasty thing he'd do though.

"It's kind of hard to explain." She chuckled a bit at that. Impossible more like.

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"When?" She didn't want to be angry with George. She didn't want to fight with him. She tried to keep her crazy emotions in check.

"Maybe when you started thinking about getting a new apartment."

"You've constantly avoiding me!" She said quietly; "I haven't even spoken to you in the last few months."

"Is that why you're moving out?"

"No."

"Then why? I can't understand…"

"Oh would you stop?!" She exclaimed jumping up from her position on the bench; "Maybe I don't want to tell you George. Maybe… Maybe…" She took a deep breath; "Maybe my whole life doesn't revolve around you and my feelings for you any more."

She was already out the door before she had time to consider that she'd said what she'd said. As she marched up the corridor, apprehension growing with each step, she berated herself for the outburst. Whatever remnants of her friendship with George that had remained from the avoidance were completely destroyed now, she was sure of it. And even though he'd avoided her and taken advantage of her feelings for him unknowingly, she didn't want to end their friendship.

She still cared for him.

When she reached the front doors of the hospital tears were starting to flow. She wondered briefly if her mood swings could really be considered mood swings; there wasn't much swinging to speak of. She was constantly upset.

When Mark found her at exactly eight o'clock she had the undeniable signs of someone who had been crying recently.

"You alright Little Grey?" He asked, wincing at how it sounded. He was practicing the art of the unattached caring tone but he feared his question sounded a little too unattached.

She looked up with a smile; "Yeah… Hormones… And George."

Mark tried to hide the anger that surfaced at the mention of O'Malley's name. "What'd he do?" His voice was gravelly and he tried immediately to correct it.

"Nothing," She said quickly, she smiled reassuringly again; "I'm being stupid. And pathetic." She added as an after thought.

He almost smiled at the reference to their friendship days. Back then he would have teasingly agreed with her, scorned her playfully for being so disposable. Now he wanted to take her home and look after her. Hold her.

He tried to stop the thoughts there but his imagination ran away from him anyway, gleefully skimming through all the other things he wanted to do for her. He considered momentarily that perhaps it was his hormones that were out of whack, not hers.

"Nothing like doing a whole lot of heavy lifting to cheer you up." He said with a smile, blocking out the images; "Or, watching someone else do a whole heap of heavy lifting for you."

She laughed. This seemed so effortless for him. She'd never considered that Mark Sloan might be okay with this kind of thing. Perhaps their 'parental friends' agreement was the stuff of revolution. Maybe one day they could write a book on it and call it the 'Sley' method of parenting.

"God Little Grey, how much hospital equipment did you steal to make this place homely?" Mark grunted carting a box of cereal containers (or hospital jugs) into the boot of his car.

"Roughly $200 worth." She said matter of factly. "It would have been more like $700 had I stolen a TV."

"A TV?" He shot her an incredulous glance.

"Tried. Failed. Bolted to the walls."

"Remind me to lock my valuables in the vault." He tipped a box of clothes on top of the cereal containers (or scrubs on hospital jugs) and then muttered something that sounded horribly like; "I'm moving in with a criminal."

She giggled lightly.

It wasn't a long drive from the crapartment to her new apartment. Or their new apartment. Both were close to the hospital which would be convenient.

No matter how many times she walked through the front doors Lexie still couldn't grasp the idea that this was her apartment building. She tried to remind herself that money was no issue for Mark – he'd been living in a five star hotel for God knew how long – but after living in the crapartment this felt utterly bizarre.

He insisted on carrying all her belongings – or rather, the hospital's belongings – up into the apartment and into one of the two larger bedrooms. The third smaller one was obviously reserved for the baby. Lexie shook a bit at the thought.

Something she hadn't considered before the actual moving process had been furniture. Mark of course had taken care of that and the sight of an extravagant queen sized bed plus a matching dresser made her blush uncomfortably.

"You didn't have to… You know…" She gestured feebly.

He shrugged seemingly unfazed; "Considering the state of your apartment I thought you probably didn't have decent furniture either."

She grinned in an embarrassed sort of way at the thought of her cheap 2 mm thick mattress back at the crapartment. Twenty bucks from a used furniture store and now George's property.

"You hungry?" Mark asked.

"Mmmm, a bit." She was ravenous. Despite her lack of morning sickness the last week had left her feeling off her food slightly. She felt hungrier than she had in days.

"Toast? It's about the only thing I know how to cook."

She grinned. "Guess you'll be doing a lot of cleaning then."

"Huh?"

She frowned; "Have you ever… lived with anyone before?"

"My parents. Derek for a while. There was also college." He said indignantly; "And I've had flat mates here and there."

"Female flat mates?" She asked with a suggestive eye raise.

"Well no…" He admitted sheepishly; "I mean… Temporary… Over night… Ones…" He stopped short.

"Well girls are a little more meticulous about cleaning and cooking and it was always a rule with my flat mates and I that one person would cook and the other would clean." She said quickly trying to breeze over the awkward lull in his conversation.

"Huh…" He shrugged, "Makes sense. Of course, if we were living fifty years ago…"

"Don't say it." She said shaking her head with a knowing smile.

"No… I've never successfully gotten that out in front of a woman before. Still…" He grinned mischievously; "Worth a try."

"Uh!" She exclaimed in mock disgust; "Go and make some toast!"

He grinned impishly before ducking out the door. She lingered behind a little while longer absorbing her surroundings. Warm colours adorned the dark brick walls and the bed side lamp cast a comforting but alluring light around the room. She felt comfortable. At home.

With a smile she skipped out lightly, eager to see the results of Mark's cooking.

"Peanut butter?"

She nodded, resisting the urge to fly over the black marble bench and snatch the freshly made toast out of his hands.

He seemed to notice her expression because he buttered quickly.

"What were you and O'Malley fighting about?"

She looked at her hands apprehensively. She'd fallen into her comfort zone and she wasn't keen to leave it. Talking about George was always a subject of humiliation.

"I didn't exactly tell him I was moving out." She said with a short laugh; "It sounds vague and… Ridiculous but we've had alternating shifts and… with the baby I haven't really registered everything going on around me."

There was silence momentarily as he pushed the peanut butter toast towards her.

"I'm sorry Little Grey."

"It's not your fault." She said quickly toying with the corners of the bread; "It's not anyone's fault it's just… the way it is."

She took a bite as politely as she could. The salty taste soon took over her need to be polite however and she stuffed mouthfuls in as quickly as she could.

"Craving?"

She shrugged licking the peanut butter off her fingers. "Not so much craving for peanut butter as it is a craving for food in general. Haven't really been thinking about that either."

"You've got to take care of yourself." He said sternly, pushing his half finished toast towards her. "Forget about telling George and forget about money."

He wanted so badly to add that he was going to take care of her but he wasn't sure what it implied. He looked away from her instead, embarrassed that all he could offer her was some sort of platonic arrangement. He was sure his ridiculously over paid shrink back in New York would have a word for how he was feeling. All that sprang to his mind was 'unmanliness' which didn't really even begin to cover it. He did feel stripped of his masculinity. He wanted to offer her more than money and friendship. But there was that promise he couldn't seem to shake. The one he'd made with himself concerning Lexie Grey and her fragility.

That was the good thing about well paid shrinks. They had a way of wrapping 'unmanliness,' 'self hatred,' and 'warped protectiveness' into one neat little package that could be vaporized in an instant.

"What do you think the nurses will say? And… Everyone."

She knew it sounded shallow but she couldn't help herself. She wasn't perfect and she did worry about what others thought of her. She liked pleasing people. She liked being liked. She'd had a very successful high school career based on other's opinions of her and she wasn't keen to change that now she was in the work force.

He shrugged; "Does it matter?"

She didn't reply straight away. How could she? No it didn't matter. But she still cared. It still hurt to have people looking at her and pointing.

"Does it matter to you?"

"We're talking about the same nurses who formed a united front against me." He said with a chuckle, "After that I'm sure I can survive anything they throw at me." He frowned slightly; "Does it matter to you?"

"I guess…" She said honestly; "I don't know. It doesn't not matter."

She grinned sheepishly.

"It shouldn't, I know."

"I really am sorry for this Little Grey."

The honesty of it struck her in the pit of her stomach. She looked away quickly trying to hide how much it meant to her that he cared. For some reason it had become very important to protect her feelings around Mark Sloan. She wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was their fragile friendship that teetered on the edge between one unknown and another. Sometimes though the thought of letting Mark Sloan in scared her because she wasn't sure she could let him back out again. It had been hard enough the first time when the premise of their relationship balanced on weeks of pent up attraction and one night of sex.

"Nothing to be sorry for." She replied, still not meeting his eye, "I think I might go to bed."

She looked up then with a forced grin.

The eyes that met hers almost shattered her façade.

"I'll see you in the morning." She said quickly, jumping off the black kitchen stool and retreating to her room.

It'll get easier. She chanted. The insane emotions will go away and it will. Get. Easier.

She went to bed not even remotely convinced.

You have no idea how hard it was to write a sentence involving 'letting Mark Sloan in' with a straight face. I blame it on 'Angus, thongs and perfect snogging' which is possibly the stupidest movie I've ever seen and has reduced my brain to mush. Oh and Shonda Rhimes for using the innuendo in the first place, lol. I think I said something about reviewing above but now I'm offering Mark Sloan as your valentine. You know you want him ;)