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

A/N: Thank you so much for the great response. Sorry for the delay, but I've changed this chapter a zillion times, and I'm still not okay with it. Oh well. I've had this, and the next few chapters, planned for ages but went through a stage where I didn't know whether or not to change the plan. Anyway, I hope this is okay. It's a bit longer than usual, mainly because I couldn't decide where to stop. Let me know what you think! (:

After they had finished, Callie and Mark had left Mr. Robinson's room, intent on going to Joe's. As they walked through the hallway, they saw Derek approach them, a young blonde woman next to him. Her pale face held tracks of tears and it appeared as if her body was trembling.

Derek sent Mark a solemn look and slightly nodded his head. To outsiders, it may have looked like nothing, but to Mark it signaled that Derek would soon need a very large scotch. Mark made a mental note to order him one before he arrived.

As they continued down the hall, Callie turned to look up at Mark. He had been quiet throughout their time with Mr. Robinson and his silence had left Callie wondering. What was happening to him? Over the last couple of days – it was actually longer than that if she really put her mind to it and thought – Mark had been acting strange. More reserved, almost appearing deep in thought all the time.

It concerned Callie and so she spoke, trying to keep her voice light. "So, you gonna tell me what's going on in that mind of yours?" She let out a nervous laugh, "Unless, of course, it involves thoughts of you and one of the nurses 'cause although some of them are pretty hot–"

"Which one are you thinking about?" Mark asked, his voice low, holding some curiosity.

"Y'know Martha? She's hot…"

Mark shrugged. "She's alright. She does this one thing where she clen–"

"You've slept with her?" Callie squeaked, her hand lashing out to hit him on the arm.

"Ow," Mark grumbled, lightly rubbing his arm. "She's nothing special."

Callie snorted and shook her head. She was about to comment about his sex life when a thought occurred to her. "You didn't answer my question."

"You asked a question?"

"Yes," Callie said, her voice showing her annoyance as they rounded the corner towards the locker room. "I want to know what's going on in your mind. You're all spaced out."

"I am not."

"Yes, you are."

Mark shook his head and opened the locker room door. "You're deluded."

"And you're a slut. No-one's perfect. Now," Callie sat down on the bench and looked up at him expectantly. "Spill."

Mark glanced down at her and raised an eyebrow. "No."

"Mark," Callie whined. "I'm sick of this. I'm sick of the mood you've been stuck in. I know there's something wrong–"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Something is wrong and if you don't sort it out, I will kill you." Callie stood up and walked over to her own locker. She pulled it open and grabbed her clothes. Before she headed to the bathroom, she called out over her shoulder. "Either tell me, or sort it out. Whatever, just stop being so moody. It's getting on my nerves."

Mark watched as Callie shut the bathroom door behind her and then dropped his head onto the cold surface of his locker when she was out of sight. He didn't need her commenting on his state. First Derek and Owen, and then his own thoughts, and now Callie's opinion…It was all weighing him down. He knew something was wrong, he knew he had to do something about it, but he simply didn't know what to do or how to approach the topic.

He couldn't come right out and voice his thoughts to Lexie. That would surely scare her away. But he couldn't take it. He shouldn't be fighting off his instincts.

Quickly, Mark changed from his scrubs and just as he was putting on his leather jacket, Callie walked into his sight. Their eyes met and Mark sighed, giving in. "I'll sort it."

Callie began walking towards him, her eyebrow raised. "Promise?"

"I'll sort it."

"Okay," Callie said before linking her arm into his. "Now, Joe's."

Mark nodded slightly, his mind mulling over his options. "To Joe's," he murmured, feeling Callie lightly squeeze his arm. A drink would definitely help him.

Once in the bar, Mark and Callie immediately spotted Meredith at the bar talking with Joe. Walking over to her, the two sat on either side of her. Meredith looked between Callie and Mark and grinned. "Hey guys!"

Mark frowned at her and then looked up at Joe. "On a scale from 1 to 10, how drunk is she?"

"I'm not drunk!" Meredith squeaked before turning to Callie. "I hear you're a lesbian now."

Joe laughed and shrugged. "Call it a 7." He then paused and indicated his finger at Mark and Callie. "Usual?"

"Thanks, Joe," the two said simultaneously.

"How's that working for you?" Meredith asked Callie, oblivious to the conversation that had been going on.

"How's what working for me, Meredith?" Callie asked, slightly amused.

Meredith sighed in annoyance and whispered harshly, "Being a lesbian!"

"She's clueless," Mark replied for Callie, his voice deadpanned. When Joe placed his drink in front of him, a thought occurred to him and he looked up at Joe. "Hey, can I get another one of these? Derek's gonna be here soon."

"Derek!" Meredith squealed and turned around to face Mark. "How is he?"

"I'm not clueless," Callie muttered. "And Derek's fine. I'm not clueless. I know…stuff. I…I know my way around."

Meredith looked at Callie and then back at Mark. She frowned, a slight pout on her lips. "All this talking is…confusing."

Mark nodded absently and patted Meredith's shoulder. "Hang in there. Derek'll be here soon and he'll whisk you away. As always."

"Oh," Meredith said dreamily. "The whisking…"

Callie raised her eyebrow at Mark over Meredith's head. He rolled his eyes in response. As if on cue, the bell on the door rang and Mark glanced over his shoulder to see Derek walk in. Immediately, Derek spotted the trio and came over. Before he got a chance to speak, Meredith turned and wrapped her arms around him. "Derek!"

Derek looked down at his girlfriend and then raised his eyebrows at Mark and Callie. "How drunk is she?"

"Seven," Joe and Callie responded together.

"Ten," Mark grumbled before turning around and grabbing Derek's drink. "Sit down and you can have this."

"Okay…" Derek looked down at Meredith who was smiling against his shirt. "Okay, you wanna get off now?"

"No."

"Meredith…"

Meredith huffed and sat up in her seat. Suddenly, she slammed her hand on the bar top. "Tequila!"

"Oh God…" Derek laughed as he sat down next to Mark. Gratefully taking the scotch from him, Derek took a sip. Looking down the bar, he smiled when he saw Callie and Meredith taking tequila shots. Turning back to look down at his drink, Derek cautiously spoke. "So, about you doing something…"

"Drop it."

"Mark…"

"No, Derek," Mark said, his voice stern. "I have had enough of everyone telling me there's something wrong with Little Grey. I know. I know and if I want to, I'll do something about it. Until then, just drop it."

Derek was initially taken back by Mark's tone, but decided to do as he wished, and drop the subject. "You sure you're not sleeping with her?"

Mark turned to look at him, his glare enough to kill.

Derek held up his hands and shrugged. "Sorry I even asked…"

Mark grunted and then turned to look at Meredith and Callie. Quietly, he reached out and took one of the tequila shots that were lined up near Meredith. Without the women noticing, Mark downed the shot, not bothering touching the limes. Mark turned back and glanced at Derek, automatically glaring at the disapproving look Derek was giving him.

The two men continued to drink, not really speaking or paying attention to the women laughing next to them. Mark was deep in thought planning what he was going to say to Lexie, when a voice made him look up.

"Just gimme something!"

Mark groaned and turned to look at Derek, who was already on his feet. A few stools away from where Callie was sitting, Thatcher stood unsteady on his feet. It was obvious he was far too drunk for Joe to serve him more drink, but that didn't seem to faze Thatcher.

"I'm a paying customer! If I want a drink, you s-should give me one!"

"Sir, you've had enough–"

"Give me a drink!" Thatcher shouted, his hands resting on the bar to keep himself standing.

Thatcher slammed his fist down onto the bar top and the sound made Meredith jump. She turned and saw him, sobriety instantly washing over her. Quickly she looked at Derek, her eyes showing her fear.

Joe's voice caught their attention. "If you don't leave now, I'm calling the police."

Thatcher's hysterical laughter broke out and Derek sighed, walking over to stand behind him. "Thatcher…"

Thatcher swiveled around to see Derek, and his laughter stopped. He narrowed his eyes at him and then turned to the side, automatically spotting Meredith. The anger that filled him was almost instinctive. "You bitch, what are you doing here?"

"Thatcher," Derek said harshly. "Why don't you just–"

"No, no, no…" Thatcher swayed and moved to get closer to Meredith. Instantly, Callie and Meredith were out of their seats and moved to stand behind Derek. Thatcher stopped and stared at the spot where they had previously stood. He continued to stare for a moment before looking up at Mark. "You…" He frowned and then turned, his eyes landing on Meredith. "You…You."

"Thatcher–"

"No…" Thatcher said, annoyed that Derek was once again trying to stop him. "No. You…You aren't the bitch I want to talk to." He pointed his finger at Meredith. "This one. This…This…cold-hearted bitch. I want to talk to her."

"You don't get to talk to her when you're like this," Derek said, his voice showing his anger. It was taking everything in him to not punch Thatcher in the face. "Go home, Thatcher."

"I don't want to talk to you!" Thatcher screamed. "Her! I want to talk to her!"

"She doesn't want to talk to you."

Mark spun around to face Mark, his face showing his confusion. "What would y-you know about that?"

Mark stared at Derek over Thatcher's head before looking down at the drunk. "I just know. She doesn't care what you have to say. No-one does."

While Thatcher's back was turned, Derek leaned down to Meredith and whispered, "Go phone Lexie. Tell her to take him home."

Silently, Meredith nodded before turning and rushing towards the back of the bar.

After a long soak in the bath, Lexie smiled to herself as she walked over to the shelves on her wall. It had been a relief to find the house empty and now, Lexie was determined to relax. She wouldn't worry; she wouldn't strain her ears to see if there were any noises coming from the other rooms. She was alone, she was safe. She would relax.

Her eyes scanned the shelf for a certain DVD spine and when she found it, Lexie let out a little squeal. The songs from RENT had been going around in her head for the most part of today, and now Lexie would finally get to re-watch one of her favorite movie musicals.

Slotting the DVD into the player, Lexie went to lie in her bed. She smiled when the opening scene unfolded, the music from the song she had been humming a few hours before, on full blast before her. Just as Angel entered the screen, clad in her bright clothing and high heels, Lexie heard her cell vibrate on her bedside table. Reluctantly Lexie paused the DVD and picked up her cell.

Meredith.

Sighing, she flipped open the phone and attempted to sound cheerful. "Hey, what's up?"

The noise in the background caused Lexie to strain to hear what her sister had to say. "Lexie! You have to get down here...He's causing a scene."

"What?"

"Your dad. Our dad," Meredith shouted down the line, before glancing over her shoulder to see Derek and Mark trying to calm Thatcher down. "Joe refuses to serve him, but he won't leave. Come over and get him, will you?"

Lexie groaned, so much for her night alone, she thought. "Can't you and Derek drive him over?" She pleaded, unwilling to leave the warmth and safety of her room.

"Lexie, he's your father. He won't let anyone near him. Just get down here. Please."

Lexie pulled the phone away from her ear at the sound of the dial tone. Groaning, she got off her bed and proceeded to pull on her boots. She didn't want to deal with a drunken Thatcher tonight. If Meredith had just left him alone, he would have moved onto another bar and probably slept in his car tonight. Now, Lexie would have to deal with more of his shit.

Great.

Opening the door to Joe's, Lexie walked in to see Thatcher shouting at Meredith, his stance aggressive, with Derek at her side, his emotions barely contained.

She noticed that Mark was standing in between Thatcher and the other two, and Lexie found herself relieved at the sight. For some reason, it comforted her to know he was trying to handle the situation. Slowly, she walked over to the group, catching the end of Thatcher's insults.

"You're an ungrateful bitch!" He shouted, his body swaying forward, only being stabilized by Mark's vice-like grip on his arm. "You...you...you are a miserable bitch, just like your bitch of a mother!"

Lexie looked desperately at Meredith, noticing the shine in her eyes. She didn't deserve this, not after everything he had put her through. Moving forward, Lexie spoke, her voice oddly strong. "Stop it."

Derek and Mark looked at Lexie, who had a similar torn expression on her face, reflecting Meredith's.

Thatcher continued. "You're the reason we weren't happy. We were happy before you!"

Lexie raised her voice, "Dad. Stop it!"

"She wouldn't have had an affair if you w-weren't alive! We s-should have aborted you when we had the chance!"

"Shut up, dad!" Lexie shouted, alerting Meredith and Thatcher to her presence. Lexie sighed heavily, and tried to regulate her breathing. Moving forward, Lexie grabbed Thatcher by the arm. "Stop it. Just stop it. Stop blaming her because it isn't her fault her mother fell in love with another man. It isn't her fault mom's dead. So, just for once shut up!"

Thatcher looked at Lexie, his eyes wild. "You can't talk to me like that," he said, his voice low. "You can't talk to me like that," he shouted, his loud voice making Lexie flinch.

Looking up at Mark, she nodded for him to let go of Thatcher's arm and there was a brief moment where he stared at her, as if he thought she was crazy. But then, albeit reluctantly, he did. Taking Thatcher by both arms, Lexie stood in front of him. "I'm sorry," she said her voice low. "But now, let's just go home."

Thatcher shook his head. "You can't talk to me like that! I'm your father!"

Without giving Lexie anytime to react, Thatcher quickly raised his arms and tried to shove Lexie away from him. They struggled but Lexie held on and quickly glanced up at Mark, who had taken a step forward in an attempt to help her. She looked back at Thatcher and quickly shoved him away, to stop him from pushing her. It was something she had wanted to do for a long time.

Running a shaky hand through her hair, Lexie looked at her father who was trying to remain stable on his feet. She glanced around, and her gaze fell on Joe who was looking torn between chucking them all out and helping them.

Lexie turned to face Thatcher and a sudden anger flared up inside her. After a long, tiring day she had had enough. She didn't need to put up with this. Not in public. She found her voice. "If you don't want to go home with me now, then that's fine. Sleep in your goddamn car for all I care, just stop being so difficult. You're drunk, dad. You are a drunk. It would be in your best interest to come with–"

"Don't tell me what to do, you bitch!" Thatcher exploded and walked forward, his finger pointing at her. Suddenly, he was inches away from her face, his finger poking into her chest. "You fucking dirty bitch! I'm your father! Don't tell me what to do!"

Lexie blinked back the tears that had formed in her eyes and turned around to look at Meredith, who was now huddled up to Derek's side, carefully watching the scene before her. Lexie felt the anger rise in her as she watched Meredith do nothing. "I know you wanted me to take him home tonight, but trust me, when he's like this, it's best for everyone that he sleeps on the streets."

"Lexie," Meredith choked out, her voice low. It didn't matter how insulting he was, he was drunk. He didn't mean it, Meredith had to convince Lexie that. If she couldn't look after her father, then at least Lexie could. "He's your father. You can't let him–"

"I know he's my father!" Lexie shouted, unable to remain calm. "He's your father too!" Lexie glanced in between Meredith and Derek, her breathing becoming more erratic. "Don't you think I know he's my father? Don't you think I know I'm a useless daughter for not being able to take care of my own father? I know he's my father but he's a drunk!"

Thatcher narrowed his eyes at Lexie and moved forward, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. "Are you talking about me?" He asked, his voice showing his confusion.

Quickly, Lexie shrugged of his hand and shook her head at Meredith. "I-I can't do it anymore, Meredith. I can't do this...I can't." Lexie spun on her heel and shoved Thatcher out of her way. When he grabbed her arm, Lexie let out a cry and shoved him. Thatcher fell on the floor. She looked down, and felt tears blurring her vision. "He can die for all I care. I'm done!"

Lexie rushed out of the bar without looking back. Once outside, the cold air hit her and she felt her eyes burn. Her chest heaved and Lexie closed her eyes, not ready to cry over this. She wouldn't cry, she would not cry. Instead, she began to count in her mind, forcing herself to remain calm, when she heard the door open behind her. Her eyes snapped open and she looked behind her.

Mark.

Not knowing what else to do, Lexie turned around and hurried to her car, which was parked across the street. She wasn't ready to talk to anyone about what had just happened. Unlocking her car, Lexie fumbled with the handle, opened the door and rushed in. She sat still, her breathing erratic.

A knock on the window startled her and Lexie looked up to see Mark peering at her. He straightened and the next thing she knew, he had walked around the car so that he could open the passenger door to her car. He got in silently and they both sat in silence for a minute, before Lexie spoke.

"You're in my car," she whispered.

Mark nodded. "I'm in your car."

"Why?"

Mark turned his head to look at her, his eyes taking in the marks on her face, the bags under her eyes. If he asked her about scars she would once again say she tripped. Or walked into something. It was always something like that. He shook his head slightly, not anymore. Now, he knew. He knew better.

"I thought you would want to talk," he replied, his voice low.

Lexie looked at him and she felt like crying. She wanted to talk, but she couldn't make her mind form the words. Instead she turned away from him and looked out of her side window. She watched as the door to Joe's opened and Thatcher staggered out. He looked around, as if not knowing where he was, before he turned to the direction of his parked car. Lexie continued to watch as the door opened again and Meredith and Derek stepped out, Derek's arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. They walked in the opposite direction.

"I don't know what to say, Dr. Sloan," Lexie said as she continued to stare out the window. "I suggest you go home because...I, I have nothing to say."

"Could have fooled me."

Lexie turned around to face him, her eyes narrowed. "And what is that meant to mean?"

"You clearly look like you want to talk to someone, why else would have shouted at Meredith?"

"I-I didn't shout...And, has it ever occurred to you that I said those things because she d-deserved it?"

Mark nodded slowly, "Good point…But, you should still talk to someone."

Lexie snorted. "And you're the best person for me to talk to?"

Mark shrugged. "If you want to talk, I'm here. You've seemed to have the urge to talk to me about your problems in the past. I'm just saying I don't care if you want to talk to me or not, I'm just here."

Lexie sighed and turned to face the windshield. Placing her hands on the steering wheel, she asked, "Do you want me to drive you to the Archfield?"

"No."

Lexie nodded, and turned on the ignition. "We're not friends, are we?"

Mark paused. "That depends."

Lexie shifted into gear and slowly reversed. "On what?"

"At work, I'm your attending."

Moving out of the parking space, Lexie began driving in the direction of her house. "And out of work?"

"...I'm just a guy."

Lexie nodded, her hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. "I don't want to talk to anyone about my problems. My problems are just that, my problems. All I need...All I need right now, is..." Lexie faltered, her mind searching for the right words. "I don't know. I…I need...something."

Mark nodded slowly. He turned to look at her and she swallowed nervously, her eyes remaining forward. After all that had happened, Mark figured that he could do this for her. He could help her, he knew it.

He continued to stare at her as he quietly spoke. "Something...Okay. I can be that."