Lexie pulled into the driveway of her once beloved childhood home, nervously turning off the engine. She stared at the door, contemplating to just leave again. As she had pulled up on the street, she had seen that the lights upstairs were on, and that meant that he was home. If she was really lucky, he might be passed out drunk in his bedroom. That way she could quickly take care of a few things and he wouldn't even notice she was there.
She was pulled out of her thoughts when her phone buzzed in her purse. She pulled it out and saw a text from Mark, asking her if she wanted to come over.
She sighed. She would really rather be with him right now. It was the first night this week that they could spend together, because they had been either on different schedules or had to keep their secret. They had originally planned to meet yesterday night, but Meredith had surprisingly asked Lexie if she wanted to go out with her, so she had to say yes.
Lexie was startled by a crashing sound, coming from inside the house.
Great. He must be awake.
'I can't tonight. I have rounds really early and I'm too tired to drive. I'm sorry, see you tomorrow 3' she quickly texted. She hated lying to him, but for some reason she didn't want to tell him what she was actually doing.
She didn't wait for a response because that would've just worsened the guilty feeling she had.
She unbuckled her seatbelt, stepped out of her car, and walked to the door with wobbly knees. Standing on the doorstep, she fumbled her keys out of her purse and shakily unlocked the door. She opened it hesitantly, not sure where exactly her father was at the moment.
To her relief, he didn't appear to be downstairs. She let out a breath and calmed herself down.
There was no need to be afraid. He was her father after all. Right?
Yet, she didn't call out for him, fearing that he would actually reply and come.
She walked around, trying to be as quiet as possible, assessing the state of the house. It had been worse sometimes. There were only a couple of empty bottles lying around, some broken. And it didn't smell too much like a liquor store. The room fresheners she had set up the last time she was there must've done their work.
She went to grab a few cleaning supplies from a small closet, including a broom and a small shovel. She used them to clean up the broken glass from the floor so she wouldn't cut herself.
But midway through her work, she suddenly heard him coming down the stairs. It was a loud noise that echoed through the whole house, as the drunken man clumsily pounded down the old wooden stairs, making her shiver with every bump.
"Susan!" he yelled in an angry tone.
Great. He was angry.
Not that he wasn't angry most of the time, but now she knew things would be more complicated.
"Susan! Where the hell have you been!" he shouted again. His voice was louder now, so he must be close to the end of the staircase.
He made himself noticeable by dropping the empty bottle in his hand to the ground.
"No, Dad, it's me." Lexie mumbled, not daring to turn around, as she continued to shove a few pieces of glass onto the shovel.
"Where the hell have you been? I've done everything for you and you just leave me? Ungrateful bitch!" he said aggressively as he saw his middle daughter.
She decided to ignore it. Engaging with him when he was like this didn't make any sense.
However, he didn't see it that way. Because he saw it as a provocation and became more worked up. "Look at me! Show me some respect!"
She took a deep breath and turned around slowly, hesitant to meet his eyes.
Before she knew it, he was standing in front of her, harshly bringing her chin up so she'd look him in the eyes.
"I'm sorry!" she defended herself nervously.
"Are you? Maybe you shouldn't be this loud next time when you clean up!" She felt his breath and immediately smelled the scotch, causing her to try and turn her head away from him.
Bad move. She shouldn't have done that.
He slapped her across the face so hard that it left her dizzy for a second. Her cheek was burning, and she was sure if she had a mirror right now, it would be bright red.
"Now do your work! And a little faster! I wanna sleep." he threatened her and turned back around.
Just let him walk away. He'll leave you alone for tonight.
Thatcher grabbed a half-empty bottle of gin from the counter next to him and was on his way back to the stairs.
Let it be.
"No." Lexie spoke up, frustrated.
Damn it.
He turned around, surprised to see her talking back to him, anger already in his eyes.
"No, I'm not your housemaid. I'm your daughter! And the only one who even cares if you drink yourself to death or if this godforsaken place goes to the dogs!" she shouted. And it felt so good to finally get it off her chest. She had been taking his hurtful accusations and beatings ever since her mother died and she just couldn't take it anymore, being treated like a piece of trash by her own father.
She regretted it the next second though, since he was coming straight towards her with a deadly look in his eyes.
Not good. Definitely not good. Aboard.
Her head told her to move, but the command didn't reach her legs before he threw the bottle at her. She ducked and it collided with the wall behind her, shattering into pieces that were now scattered across the floor she had just cleaned. Her back was wet from the remaining alcohol that had been in the bottle and she already worried how she would get the smell of gin out of her hair till tomorrow.
"You bitch! You really think you can talk to me like that?" Thatcher backed her up against the wall, leaving her no chance to flee.
She turned her head away and closed her eyes in fear as he came threateningly close.
"She died because you weren't here! You're never here!"
Lexie knew that wasn't true. It didn't make any sense. But the words still cut deep, hearing her own father accuse her of being the cause of her mother's death.
"It wasn't my fault that mom died." she muttered, her voice shaky and tears in her eyes.
Again, very bad move.
He slapped her again, this time even harder, then turned back around.
Lexie sank to the ground, holding her cheek in pain. What the hell did she do to deserve to be treated like this?
She asked herself time and time again why she couldn't just walk away from him. But there was this little voice in the back of her mind that told her that he was her responsibility, that she had to take care of him. Someone had to.
"She died from the hiccups. It wasn't my fault." she whispered, more to herself, to remind herself that his words were just drunk babbling.
But somehow he had heard her and turned back to her. "What was that?"
"N-Nothing..." she stuttered.
This wasn't going to end well.
"Now you're lying to me too?" he warned.
She shook her head hastily. "I wasn't! I swear!"
That only seemed to make him more angry, since he didn't believe her.
Why couldn't he just leave already?
"Bitch!" He kicked her in anger, and she cried out in pain.
That felt like her rib. Shit.
"Just go! And don't come back!" Thatcher threatened and waited till she got herself on her feet and fled out the door.
Every movement hurt more, but the need to get out of that house was stronger than the pain.
As soon as she was in her car, she locked it and took a moment to breathe.
How did she let it get this far?
She pulled up her shirt and saw that there was already a light purple-ish discoloration. Combined with the pain she was in, she figured it was probably just a sprained rib or two. Not that it didn't hurt, but it could've been worse.
She looked back at the house, then started the car and drove back to Meredith's.
It was already pretty late, so thankfully no one would be up to ask any questions since they all had early rounds the next day. Lexie, too, so she hadn't told Mark a complete lie.
When she walked through the door of the house, she hoped she wouldn't encounter anyone. She wasn't up for a questioning right now, and she had to take care of her bruises first.
She made her way up to the bathroom and let out a breath, relieved that she hadn't been caught.
She put down her purse and took off her jacket, placing both on the closed toilet seat.
She took a look at her face. Her cheek was slightly swollen, but if she took a painkiller –which she would definitely need anyway because of her rib– it should be barely noticeable the next day.
Then she took off her shirt and looked at herself in the mirror. She had a better image than earlier now and it didn't hurt any less to look at. She flinched just at the sight of the bruise.
How did she let this happen to herself?
She was more than ready to just plump into her bed and sleep, but then she remembered that she still smelled like gin. She would have to shower.
Before, she opened the medicine cabinet and took two ibuprofen, downing the pills dryly.
Then, she turned on the shower, undressed, and got inside. She took a moment to relax under the heat of the water, taking in every beam that pelted down against her skin.
After her shower, in which she shampooed her hair and scrubbed her body ten times, hoping the smell would finally be gone, she went up to her room in the attic.
She dropped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling.
How was she going to hide this? How would she explain a sprained rib?
She had to be really careful when changing in the locker room in the hospital so that no one would catch a glimpse of the bright purple bruise. And she had to hide her pain if she made a wrong movement or if someone accidentally bumped into her or touched her in a wrong way. That would be hard. But it would be manageable.
However, then there was Mark. To hide it from him would be almost impossible. She would have to withhold sex for at least a week, so the bruise would be gone, not to mention it would hurt in the next few days. She couldn't see him at all because he would just notice something was wrong.
She had to lie to him again.
Suddenly she remembered that she had lied to him today as well, and that he probably texted her back.
She pulled out her phone and opened his chat. He had indeed texted her. 'Alright, no problem. I could come over, get pizza on the way, and we could just watch a movie?'
She frowned. The guilt hit her even harder.
'Guess you're already sleeping. Good night 3' he had texted after not getting a reply.
She felt like the worst person ever. She had blown him off and ignored him, all while he was so sweet to her. And that had to mean something, because if you asked anyone else, sweet would be the last word they'd use to describe Mark Sloan.
He didn't deserve to be lied to. And yet, she would have to lie to him for the rest of the week.
She held her phone close to her chest, as tears started flowing. Everything now downed on her, everything that had happened this evening.
Lexie had slept through her alarm this morning. She hurried to get ready and was late for rounds. She had put on a polo neck sweater which she had kept on under her scrubs because the full coverage somehow helped with the anxiety that someone would discover her injury.
If she didn't have enough bad luck, she was also on Mark's service today. For a second, she really contemplated just going home sick because there was already a clot forming in her chest as she thought about lying to him.
As she looked at the OR board to see which surgeries were scheduled for the day, Mark suddenly came up behind her, whispering a "Hey" in her ear as he passed her. She jumped slightly but tried to cover it up with a laugh.
"Hey" she smiled. "I'm on your service."
He nodded. He probably had a part in the matter.
"We've got nothing to do for about thirty minutes, and there's an on-call room right over there. What do you say?" he asked her. He sounded so happy to see her and looked so excited.
She felt the guilt sink in again, but that quickly turned into panic when she realized she had to find a way out of this without being suspicious and without hurting his feelings. She couldn't just say no, that would be the most obvious indicator that something wasn't right.
"I..." she started, but then Mark's pager went off.
Saved by an emergency.
He groaned after looking at it. "ER." he informed her.
"We'll get back to this later." he promised, his infamous grin plastered on his face, then went off in the direction of the emergency room, her following after him, relieved. She was excused for now.
Mark opened the door for her and laid his hand on her back for a quick moment to lead her in the right direction.
There was the accidental touch.
She hissed in pain, but he didn't notice because of the mix of loud noises in the emergency room.
The rest of the day went by rather quickly and before Lexie knew it, it was already afternoon. She would only have to keep herself together for three more hours. That would be manageable.
Yet no one had suspected anything. She was better at hiding this than she had thought.
Maybe because it wasn't the first time?
Mark had asked her earlier if she was free this evening, and she had to blow him off again. It had been hard to look into his obviously disappointed eyes as she told him some dumb excuse of having to help Meredith with some stuff.
Lexie was now on her way to collect some results from the lab when she was suddenly pulled into an on-call room.
She moaned in pain at the sudden movement, her body tensing involuntarily.
"Woah. You okay?" Mark was standing in front of her, dumbfounded. He hadn't pulled her harshly or with force, so it looked pretty suspicious.
Damn it. It had been going so well.
"I... uh... yeah..." she struggled to come up with a reason for her reaction.
"I just... I need to go, umm, I gotta collect some lap results." She wanted to flee, but he stepped in front of her.
"Have I done anything?" he asked. She could tell there was a hint of hurt in his voice, even though he tried to hide it.
She frowned. She didn't mean to hurt him. But she had avoided him as much as she could and blown him off a couple of times.
She put her hand on his cheek and stepped closer to him, aware of how easily he could discover her injury in that position.
"No. You haven't done anything wrong." she said sincerely. "I just... I have some stuff..."
This definitely wouldn't do it for him.
"What stuff? I know that you don't have to help Meredith later, because Derek told me they're going out tonight. I feel like you've been avoiding me." he voiced his concerns.
Yup. Too late.
"I... I promise that it has nothing to do with you," she told him, barely above a whisper. "I have to go."
She turned away from him and went out the door, but he didn't want to be left standing there, so he grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
Holy-
The turn made her inhale sharply and hold her rib in pain as she bent down, unable to stand up straight.
That was it.
He quickly let go of her and tried to support her to stand up.
After she got herself together, she had to face him.
"Okay, Lexie, what's going on? You're clearly hurt." he asked worried, still one hand on her shoulder.
"I..." She looked into his eyes and panicked. There was no way out of this.
He could tell that she was on the edge of tears, so he led her to sit down on one of the beds.
"You can talk to me." he told her comfortingly, making her hope for a moment that she actually could, that she wasn't alone with this.
She opened her mouth, but instead of words, only a sob escaped. Even if she wanted to talk to him, she simply couldn't.
"Where?" he wanted to know where she was hurt. She obviously needed help starting whatever she wanted to tell him.
"I think my rib is sprained." she confessed.
He shot her a look, asking if he could look and she gave him a slight nod, then laid down on her back.
Mark pulled up her scrub top and her sweater to reveal the big purple bruise. His eyes turned soft, and he looked at her pained. "Lex..."
She swallowed hard. She felt both highly uncomfortable and perfectly safe with him.
He examined the injury by probing around the area, applying different pressure. She winced sometimes, making him know where it hurt particularly bad. "Yeah, it's sprained." he concluded when he was done.
It didn't take him long to figure out how she had been hurt.
"Lex, this isn't an injury you could have gotten on your own." he spoke up carefully.
She sat back up, pulling her clothes back into place and avoided looking into his eyes, fearing that she would just break down if she did .
"What happened?" he asked, putting his hand on her chin and bringing it up to look at him. The same action that her father had done so forcefully and harshly last night, Mark did so gently and carefully.
"I was at my dad's last night." she came clean. She couldn't lie to him any longer.
Mark immediately understood where she was going, either this and anger arose in him at the thought. Lexie had told him about her father's behaviour and drinking problems in their first night, when they basically exchanged life stories with each other, feeling so oddly comfortable with one another so quickly. But she had left out a part. The part where he had actually laid a hand on her. She had assured him that he was harmless and wouldn't hurt her. But he had, and by the way she was hiding it so easily, it probably hadn't been the first time.
"And he was drunk again, like always these days... I just wanted to clean up a little and make sure he hadn't drunk himself to death already..." She had to swallow a sob, so she could finish her sentence. "But then he got angry and... it didn't end well..."
She didn't leave him a chance to say anything, feeling the tears already coming, and fell into his arms.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you." she apologized between cries.
He stroked her back, holding her closely to his chest. "It's okay."
They remained silent for a while, allowing her to let everything out. She felt every sob in her rib, but she couldn't stop herself from crying. Finally telling someone what was happening suddenly made it real. Her father was abusing her. It didn't matter that he was drinking, that was no excuse for the things he said and did to her.
"Lex?" Mark asked her after some time.
"Mhm?" she spoke into his chest, not yet willing to leave the safe place.
"I know that you won't just abandon your dad, but... I need you to promise me that you won't go back there alone." He sounded almost scared for her, a tone she would've never imagined out of his mouth.
She nodded. "Okay."
He kissed her head and held her close, not too tightly, so she wouldn't be hurt because of her rib.