Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for a crazy mind.

A/N: Thanks a bunch for all the reviews, story alerts and favourites! The end of this chapter marks the ball finally rolling. Yay! Hope everyone enjoys this chapter as much as I do (: Let me know what you think!

- Vin

Lexie rushed through the doors of the clinic and automatically scanned the large room for Sadie. She spotted the blonde at the nurse's station, a look of boredom on her face.

"Sadie!"

Sadie looked up to see Lexie rushing towards her, and raised her eyebrow in curiosity. "What's up with you?"

Lexie swallowed nervously. "He kept on looking at me."

"Who?" Sadie's eyes widened, her excitement showing. "Dr. Sloan?"

Lexie shook her head. "Henry."

"Oh."

"Oh? I-Is that all you're going to say?"

Sadie shrugged, "What else do you want me to say?"

"I-I don't know." Lexie bit into her bottom lip, deep in thought. What did she want? Why was she making a big deal about this? So, her patient might like her. Big deal...right?

Lexie slumped her shoulders and looked at Sadie. "I'm crazy, aren't I?"

Sadie patted Lexie on the shoulder. "We all are."

Lexie groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I-I need...a drink. Quick."

Sadie looked to the sides and then her eyes zoned on the clock. "I'm not off yet, but you're shift ends soon, right?"

Lexie peeked at Sadie from behind her fingers. She nodded slightly.

"Okay," Sadie said, taking Lexie by the shoulders. She turned her around, pointing her in the direction of the clinic doors. Reluctantly, Lexie dropped her arms to her sides and stared at the doors. "You head to Joe's. I'll meet you there in...An hour, hopefully."

"Okay..." Lexie nodded. She could do this. First she would have a drink and then she could rant to Sadie until her heart was content. She nodded again, her back straightening. "Okay."

"Good girl," Sadie remarked, and lightly tapped Lexie on the back. "Go on. Get a drink down your neck and I'll see you there."

Lexie nodded again and began to walk towards the doors. "Okay..."

Joe saw him approach the bar and looked at him wearily. "Usual?"

Mark visibly relaxed as he nodded. "Thanks."

Soon enough, Joe placed the scotch in front of him. "Rough day?"

"You could call it that."

Joe nodded, "Wanna talk about it?"

Mark regarded him for a moment, his face void of any emotion. "No."

"I don't even know why I asked," Joe muttered and walked away from Mark.

Glancing down at the drink in his hands, Mark watched as the lights shimmered against the amber liquid. He swirled it in his glass tumbler aimlessly, his thoughts returning to an earlier topic which he had promised himself he wouldn't think about.

He was never good at keeping promises.

Something troubled him. He didn't know why, but ever since he had left the hospital, there had been a feeling of...unease, settled at the pit of his stomach. He couldn't place his finger on it, it was too distant, too small, but there was no doubt that it was there, and was effectively pissing him off.

Mark Sloan was not the type of man to get hung up on 'feelings' and yet here he sat–in the bar, nursing the stiff drink he craved–analyzing this certain peculiar feeling.

Why was he feeling like this? Where had it come from?

Well, the latter was easier to answer. It had crept up on him when he was walking towards the locker room. Slowly, surely, he felt the unease settle in. Mark knew it had arrived after what Henry accused him of, but he wasn't about to admit that. That would mean he was worried about what people thought of him, and he honestly didn't give a damn. So...

Mark paused, his face darkening at the realization.

Worry. He was worried.

For...Little Grey.

The idea sounded bizarre, foreign. What should he feel worry about? He wasn't hurting Lexie, and he was pretty sure no-one else was.

But then, 'pretty sure' wasn't exactly the same as 100% sure.

Annoyed at his thoughts, Mark lifted the glass to his lips and downed the scotch in one go. He looked up and signalled to Joe. "Another, Joe."

Joe gave him a look but then when Mark glared at him, he decided to keep his mouth shut. In an instant, he had placed another scotch in front of the moody man. Joe shook his head slightly and then glanced up when the door bell chimed.

Taking a quick scan around, Lexie walked into the bar and immediately noticed the man at the bar in a leather jacket. Dr. Sloan. Lexie paused in her movements, calculating where she should take residence. Steeling herself, she made her way up to the bar; taking a seat a couple stools down from Mark.

Lexie smiled nervously at Joe. She was about to speak, when Joe smiled at her. "Usual?"

Lexie nodded. "You know me too well, Joe."

Once the yellow drink was placed in front of her, Joe gave her a small smile before moving down the bar. Lexie carefully side-glanced at Mark and noticed the grumpier than usual look on his face. She shouldn't talk to him, she knew that. It would only annoy him more. But...There was an impulse inside her that made her want to interrupt his thoughts and begin ranting.

Fighting off the urge, Lexie stared down at her drink. She began to stir the red straw, focusing on watching how the light glistened on the surface. It wasn't that interesting, but she knew it would be better than disturbing an attending.

As she continued to stir the drink, Lexie's thoughts drifted in the direction of Henry. She had come to the decision that she was merely amused by him. It was flattering and amusing to realize that someone you knew in college – someone who went to the same college as you, Lexie's mind automatically adjusted – regarded you as good-looking. Her conclusion was that Henry must feel that way about her, going by the looks he gave her.

The thought still managed to bring a slight tinge to her cheeks and Lexie smiled slightly. It was flattering to think, that although she looked a mess with cuts on her faces and bruises under her clothing, someone still thought she was...okay-looking.

"I swear to God, if you stir that drink one more time, I'll kill you, Grey."

Lexie's head shot up at the sound of Mark's gruff voice. She looked back down at her hand and quickly stopped her motions. She laughed nervously. "Er, s-sorry, Dr. Sloan. I guess I didn't realize."

"I know you didn't realize." Mark glanced at her and shook his head. "Preoccupied, Grey?"

Lexie swallowed, her thoughts already drifting back to the reason why she had cuts on her face and bruises under her clothing. "You could call it that."

Mark nodded his head slightly. "Me too." He paused for a moment, wondering if he should continue. But then, he didn't hesitate; he was used to speaking his mind. "Are you seeing anyone, Dr. Grey?"

Lexie choked slightly. "E-Excuse me, sir?"

Mark turned around his seat, resting his arm on the bar surface. "You..." He said, his eyes running over her face suspiciously. "O'Malley?" He asked half-teasingly, half in disgust.

"G-George?" Lexie laughed openly, shaking her head. "No. No way. He doesn't even live here...anymore."

Mark narrowed his eyes, assessing the situation. "Didn't think so. He isn't..."

Mark was about to say 'man enough,' like he usually would after saying something aimed at George, however he stopped himself. In regards to what he was implying, no man was 'man enough' to hit a woman. They were completely the opposite.

Lexie tilted her head to one side. "He isn't what?"

Mark sighed and returned to his previous position, now facing the front of the bar. "Never mind."

"No, go on."

"I said never mind, Grey. The conversation ends there."

Lexie narrowed her eyes slightly, but decided to shrug off the weird conversation. Why would he care if she was seeing someone? Unable to keep quiet, Lexie spoke again. "Why do you want to know?"

Mark tensed instantly. "I don't. Forget I even asked."

"You can't take it back. I remember it now, and I'll probably remember it forever now. So, tell me."

He shook his head. He didn't even know why he wanted to know. He spoke what was going around in his mind. He lived on acting on impulse. "Not now, Little Grey."

"Am I right in assuming that means you will tell me at a later date?"

"Don't get smart with me now," Mark warned lightly, a small smirk on his lips.

"I'm always smart around you, Dr. Sloan. You should know that."

Mark laughed, and looked at her. "You seem pretty certain about that, Grey."

"Oh, I am." Lexie grinned at him and then shrugged. "Maybe you bring out the best in me." Mark raised an eyebrow and Lexie rolled her eyes. "You're a good teacher. That's why. There are no other reasons."

"Okay."

There was a pause as Mark stared at Lexie, his eyes darker than usual. Suddenly uncomfortable under his stare, Lexie looked down at her untouched drink and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The way he looked at her, so thoughtful and...There was something else, she was sure of it; she just couldn't place what it was. Whatever it was, it made her uneasy. It made her suddenly really tired.

"Okay," she said quietly, chuckling lightly.

Mark continued to look at Lexie, his mind churning. She did seem nervous, but then, she was a nervous person. She didn't seem afraid. Her banter with him indicated so. But...Mark sighed. It was official, he was going crazy.

The door of the bar chimed and Mark looked over his shoulder to see Sadie walk through the door. She spotted him and then Lexie, who was a bit further down the bar.

"Your crazy friend is here."

Lexie turned around and smiled when she saw Sadie. She waited until Sadie had taken a seat in between her and Mark before she spoke, her mind made up.

"I know I said we should have a drink together, but I-I'm suddenly really tired." She looked at Sadie regretfully, and stood up. "Rain check?"

"Oh, come on, Lex!" Sadie whined. "I just got here."

"I-I know, I'm so sorry." Lexie looked up to see Mark staring at her, a thoughtful look on his face. "B-But, you have er, Dr. Sloan as company!"

Sadie glanced at him and then back at Lexie. "And that's meant to make me feel better?"

Lexie struggled to smile. "Sorry. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

Quickly, Lexie turned around and headed towards the door. She knew she was being irrational, but she couldn't sit there any longer under his watchful gaze. Lexie groaned when she got outside. This meant she would have to deal with her father.

"Lexie?" Thatcher moved down the hallway, keeping close to the wall. His shoulder rubbed against the wallpaper as he unsteadily made his way to his daughter's room. "Lexie!"

In her room, Lexie watched the door. Mean drunk. She already knew from the sound of his voice–raspy, harsh...desperate–all the tell-tale signs that he was ready for a fight. She would remain calm. She wouldn't rise against him. After all she had been through today, she would sit perfectly still, unwilling to react against his antics.

"Lexie!"

The door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud crack. Thatcher swaggered in, beer bottle in hand. He looked at her, tucked in neatly under the bed sheet, romance novel open face down in her lap, and he swayed forward, raising the bottle to point at her.

"You! You, bitch!" He spat, his eyes flaring. "You...Weren't home today."

"I had work."

Her voice was steady, her eyes remaining on his although she had the desperate need to look away, to hide from sight. She should have stayed at Joe's longer.

Thatcher laughed loudly, the noise hurting Lexie's ears. "You were meant to be home!" He shook his head furiously. "Home. Here. You were supposed to be here, with me!"

"Dad–"

"Home!" Thatcher shouted, his once slurred words becoming clearer. "Does, does that mean nothing to you?"

Lexie shook her head, her eyes beginning to water. "Of course it means something to me," she whispered.

Thatcher squinted at her. "What did you say?" He moved closer, his knees banging against the bottom of her bedstead. "What did you say, you bitch?"

Lexie looked to the side, her eyes focusing on the wall. "I said, of course it means something to me."

He exploded.

"It means nothing to you!" Thatcher screamed, his cheeks burning red. "Our home means nothing to you, family means nothing to you! You're never here. You're always there, at the hospital. Al-Always willing to help anyone but me! You're not here anymore because you're out there, 'saving lives.' You're, you're too busy for me, f-for our home, for your family!"

Lexie felt the tears burn her eyes but refused to cry. She was used to it. She shouldn't cry. No crying. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned to look up at him. His face was red, a great contrast to his sharp, white stubble, and his eyes were wild – boarding on manic.

She was about to speak, when the sound of glass hitting wood stopped her. She looked down to see the bottle in his hand. Or, at least, what remained of it.

The jagged edge of the green bottle was pointed at her, treacherously. Lexie looked at him, the fear clear in her eyes. When he looked at her, his eyes seemed to be staring at the spot just to the right of her. Suddenly, his loud voice broke out into the room.

"You're never here! You're always there, with them, with him. Do you think I'm blind? Do you think I don't see the way you talk about him? How much you admire his 'surgical skills–"

"Dad, I don't–"

"Shut up!" Thatcher tore himself away from his position at the end of the bed and began pacing in front of the bed, resembling a caged animal. "Shut up, shut up…j-just shut up!" He stopped and pointed the bottle at her, his arm shaking. "You, you think I don't know. But I do. I know. I know. Y-You're never home!"

Lexie knew he wasn't talking about her, that he must be relieving some memory, but she continued to act oblivious. She hoped that he would snap out of it himself, or would simply run out of fuel and leave her alone. "I have to work, dad. I'm an intern. They make us stay there for ungodly hours. I can't help it. If I could, I'd always be here, at home with you."

Thatcher paused, and looked at her, his eyes darting over her small frame. He visibly calmed, his gaze softening. But then, as fast as it came, the look was gone, replaced by an urgent ferocity.

"Shut up!"

Before she knew what was happening, Thatcher was above her. The stench of beer hanging over her head. Her legs pinned under his. The weight pushing her into the mattress.

She saw the bottle–saw it rushing toward her as he held down her arm, the other pinned under her back–but she didn't realize what had happened until she felt something trickle down her cheek. The matter ran down, curving over her cold cheek, and ended up caught on the edge of her bottom lip.

It was over as fast as it had begun. Lexie laid against the pillow, unable to move; whether it was because of shock or because of the pain she felt in her upper arms and legs, she didn't really know.

All Lexie knew was that she would have to take care of the gashes in her cheek before her shift started.