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

A/N: Thank you so much for the great response. I'm glad everyone enjoyed the previous chapter, I wasn't too sure of it. This may not be what people expected, but then, I don't really know if it's what I expected. Anyway, please, let me know what you think! (:

As they approached the house, Lexie noticed that the lights were out. It was a good sign, she knew that. He wasn't home. He was gone, he wasn't home. She knew that, and even though she was slightly comforted by the presence of Mark behind her, Lexie felt the nerves crawl up her spine. He could come home at any moment; she knew that fact all too well.

Lexie let out a small sigh, she was being paranoid. Again. Carefully, she opened the front door and switched on the hallway light. Walking in, closely followed by Mark, she looked around nervously before she opened the living room door. The lights were out – he wasn't home. His car wasn't in the drive; the lights had been out, the house empty. He must have left to go terrorize another bar. Although she knew this, Lexie couldn't help but stick to her routine of checking before she entered a room.

Walking into the living room, she turned to see Mark stand in the doorway, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets awkwardly. She gave him a small, shy smile, "Can I get you a drink?"

"I don't think we should drink," he said, his voice soft.

Lexie shook her head. "I need a drink." She turned and walked to the drinks cabinet. It was nearly empty. "There isn't much in here, dad's drunk most of it and probably hasn't had time to stock up, but..." She reached around some of the bottles and pulled out a liter bottle of tequila. She showed it to Mark proudly. "Shots?"

He smiled slightly, "I'm more of a scotch man, myself."

"Too bad," Lexie said, collecting two shot glasses and the salt shaker from the cabinet. "You're stuck with this." She glanced back, "Or a bottle of gin."

Mark laughed, and walked towards her. He stood close to her, invading her personal space. He saw her swallow nervously and couldn't help but smirk. "Where do you keep the limes?"

"Err, the, the kitchen. The kitchen, obviously," she laughed slightly, flustered by his proximity. She raised the items in her hands and quickly turned on her heel to walk over and place the glasses and bottle onto the table. She turned back to see an amused Mark. "I'll...Just go get them," she said, gesturing in the direction of the kitchen behind him.

Mark watched her walk past him, her head down, and his eyes softened at the sight of her. "You do that," he muttered before going to sit on the couch.

"Mark," Lexie whined from her place on the floor. "You're hogging the teckwela!"

Mark laughed loudly and held up the half empty bottle of tequila. "The what?"

"The teck–teqwela!"

Mark laughed and began swinging the bottle above his head, completely amused by the drunken woman in front of him. He sat back against the couch, the bottle firmly in his grip. "Say it properly and I might give it back to you."

Lexie huffed, and sat up on her knees. She leaned forward and tried to grab the bottle but missed. Defeated, she sat back on her knees. "You…you, Dr. S-Sloan, are not a nice man."

"I know."

Lexie pouted briefly before reaching forward, placing her hands on his knees. Leaning up again, she carefully placed herself in between his knees, her hands slowly moving up his thighs.

Mark sighed; he was drunk, but he wasn't that drunk. "Grey," he warned.

Lexie looked up at him, her eyes wide, a small, teasing smile on her lips. "Dr. Sloan..."

Sighing, Mark leaned forward so his face was closer to hers. He watched as she lowered her eyes shyly. "I'm just a guy, Grey."

She looked at him. "I know," she whispered.

"And you're drunk," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know."

Mark lowered his eyes to her hand when he felt her fingers run closer to his inner thigh. "You know what you're doing, don't you?"

Lexie swallowed, she knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn't even that drunk anymore. Right now, all she cared about was feeling normal. Wanted.

"Yes," she said as she slowly stood up, remaining in between his knees. She leaned forward and carefully took the bottle of forgotten tequila out of his hand and placed it on the floor next to them.

She wasn't sure whether it was the alcohol that was giving her this strength, or the weight of today. Whatever the reason, Lexie felt something pull at her, urge her to do something. She needed this, she needed to do this.

Her hands floated to the bottom of her jumper and after a second of hesitation, she lifted it over head. She saw Mark's eyes darken, the little bit of restraint he had chip away. She swallowed, and a continuous prayer ran through her mind: please, let him not be repulsed. Just as slowly, she lifted her tank-top over her head and tossed it to the floor.

Please, let him not be repulsed.

She needed him to want her. After everything she had been called, after everything she had gone through – the slaps, the punches, the kicks, the taunts – she just needed to feel wanted. Even if it was for a brief drunken moment.

Please.

His eyes widened slightly at the sight of her. Her delicately white skin was tainted by fading contusions in places, mainly around the abdomen. The light greens and yellows plagued her skin in a pattern that was oddly consistent – the bruises wrapping around her body with a simple ease.

He noticed that her breathing was shaky and he raised his eyes from her secret to her shadowed eyes. All this time, all this time he had suspected, he had wondered, but had never done anything about it. Mark had always prided himself on going with his gut feeling, but this time, the confusion, the conflicting emotions, they had built up inside him and had prevented him from taking action. He hadn't reacted. He had done nothing.

Nothing.

If he knew sooner, maybe, maybe he could have saved her.

"Say something."

Her hushed voice caught him by surprise. The look of anxiety on her face made him want to draw her to him and never let go. It was an odd feeling, the need to protect someone else, but at that moment, the urge was so insistent, so raw, that it shocked Mark. Nervously, he licked his lips before speaking. "How long?"

It didn't take a genius to figure out what he wanted to know, but Lexie didn't want to give exact figures. It would make it seem real. She simply replied, "Too long."

"You never told anyone."

You never told me.

Lexie shook her head. "No-one needed to know."

Mark's eyes reflected the hurt he felt. "I would have wanted to know. I would have stopped it."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do." Mark stared at her, amazed she was arguing about this. "If you had told me like you were supposed to, I would have stopped it."

Lexie let out a small, humorless laugh. "Like I was supposed to?"

Mark sighed, "You know what I mean."

"No, Dr. Sloan. I don't."

"Lexie, that doesn't matter now." His jaw clenched as he looked at the bruises. "I could have stopped it."

Lexie shook her head. "No…"

Mark sighed, his eyes burning from looking at her body. He couldn't understand why her own father would want to hurt her. He tried to stop himself, he shouldn't think about that now. If he continued to think about that bastard, he would become angry and he doubted that was what Lexie needed right now.

Trying to remain calm, he looked up at her. "Why didn't you say something?"

Tears filled her eyes and she found herself giving a half-shrug. "Because…Because it doesn't matter."

"God, Lexie..." How could she believe that? How could she convince herself that letting someone hurt her didn't matter? What had he done to her to make her believe this? He spoke, his voice soft. "Of course it does."

When Mark showed no intention to move, Lexie reached around her back to unclasp her bra. Tearing it away from her skin and dropping it to the floor, she stared at him, her eyes shining. This was it.

"I, I don't want to talk," she said, her voice oddly calm. "For once, I don't want to talk about anything. I…I just want a guy. Tonight, I just need a guy, Dr. Sloan."

Mark looked at her for a beat, calculating what the best thing to do would be. Quickly making up his mind, he stood up slowly and Lexie took a step back. He stared at her, wondering if he was just making matters worse. He should tell her to put on her top. He should leave. He should leave and forget this ever happened. But…He reached for the bottom of his t-shirt and lifted it over his head. He held the crumpled t-shirt in his hand for a moment, waiting for her to do something, anything, to show him that this was what she truly needed.

Lexie reached out to take it from him. She dropped it to the floor, next to her bra.

Moving closer to her, his hand went up to cup the side of her face. Her eyes closed automatically and he leaned down to her. He hadn't realized, but now as she stood in front of him, Mark realized that he had wanted to do this. For so long, this feeling, the one that had been stored away at the back of his mind, it had wanted to be released. This simple desire that was now slowly filling him…he wanted to do this, and now, he was getting his chance. It didn't matter they had had too much to drink, or that they were standing in her living room. It didn't matter that she was an intern and he was her boss. It didn't matter that she was upset and he should know better. This is what she needed, and for too long this was what he needed too.

Slowly, gently, his lips brushed against hers. "It's not Dr. Sloan," he said, his lips moving across hers. "Not tonight."

"Mark."

Her voice was like a strangled, angelic prayer. He wasn't doing the wrong thing, he had now convinced himself. She needed this; she needed this to make her forget. It would allow her to feel...normal. He was almost convinced.

Mark kissed her. His lips slid against hers and Lexie groaned from the simple pleasure it brought. Slowly, he brought his other hand up to caress the side of her breast. Lexie moaned into his mouth when he touched his tongue to hers. Carefully, he let go of her.

"Mark..." Lexie watched as he sighed and brought two fingers and his thumb to rub his temple. She moved forward, resting her hands against his bare chest. "Please..." She leaned up and placed a delicate kiss to his collar bone. "Please." Moving upwards, she placed a kiss on the underside of his chin, before moving her lips across his neck. "Please..." She kissed his cheek, her lips remaining there when she spoke again, "Just for tonight."

All of a sudden, everything that had happened tonight flashed before his eyes. He saw Meredith and the anxious look on her face when confronted by a drunken Thatcher. He saw Thatcher, heard his insults, felt the anger. He saw a broken Lexie in the bar, in the car, on the floor moments ago.

Something snapped inside of him and Mark found himself reach out and pull Lexie closer to him. Her body was flush against his, her head carefully tucked under his chin, and he securely wrapped his arms around her. Her tears ran down his neck, her sadness washing over him, her soft whispers begging him, and Mark hugged her tighter, reassuring her, unwilling to let her go.

"Just for tonight..."