From yesterday, the fear... - Lexie, implied Lexie/Alex , PGwaltzmatildahMay 26 2010, 08:09:53 UTC
From yesterday, the fear...
-
He's home three nights before she finally lets herself fall apart.
Before that there'd been a rampant gunman to protect him from, blood transfusions to run the gauntlet for, ex-wives to impersonate. Before that there'd been emergency surgeries to sit through. Waiting room coffee to consume.
Traces of his dried blood to scrub from her hair.
Before he'd been home for three nights there'd been a ventilator to communicate around, silent, stony terror in his eyes to try and smooth away without actually talking about why it was there in the first place.
There'd been a heart rate monitor that effectively filled the long minutes and hours of silence as he slept and sedating pain medications that blurred his words and weakened the permanent grip his fingers now had on hers.
But it's been three nights now. He's been home for three nights when she walks into the bedroom, more 'theirs' now than 'his' despite the fact that she's barely slept in it for a month.
Barely slept in anything.
Barely slept.
But it's theirs now, not his, and no one questions the move.
He's asleep when she walks in. On his back, one arm, his right, flung out across the mattress just so. He's thrown the quilt to the side, it's more on the floor than it is on the bed and the sheets? The sheets that are tangled around his legs and draped loosely across his scarred torso?
Those sheets are red.
She freezes in the doorway, fingers gripped around the wooden edge of the frame, white knuckled and aching.
She can smell the blood again, see it smeared across the floor of the elevator as the doors slide open, feel it, slippery slick and staining, on the tips of her fingers, watch as it leaks from an impossibly tiny hole between his ribs.
He's breathing. She can see the gentle rise and fall of his bare chest, a stark contrast to the panicked gasps she's trying, failing, to silence.
He's still breathing.
But he was last time, too.
She blinks and he disappears behind a saltwater haze that she can't quite co-ordinate her limbs enough to swipe away.
Backing clumsily from the room she catches her heel in the thick hallway carpet, ends up pressed against the wall behind her. Sliding slowly, 'til her chin hits her knees and her hands clamp over her ears to muffle the sound of the gunshots that are only echoing inside her head anyway.
She stays like that for a minute. Or maybe it's three.
It could be hours, and when a figure squats in front of her, takes her face in its hands, she notices for the first time that she's cold to her core.
The figure speaks. At a volume that she can't hear and using a language that she can't quite manage to decipher.
She imagines that she can.
“He's dead. He's dead. He's dead...”
As the figure spins, abruptly and with one hand against her shoulder for leverage, she realises that it's her that is speaking.
“He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.”
There's shouting then. His name is called.
And the concrete sound of his voice as he replies, still more asleep than awake, cuts through the fog that had descended, cuts through the cumulus clouds that had taken up residence in the cavity where her heart and lungs used to live.
He struggling to stand now. Pushing to upright with one hand wrapped around still healing ribs as the figure from the hallway, as Meredith, tries, fails to push him back down.
She hasn't moved from where she's slumped, child-like and aching on the hallway floor, and it's not until he's standing before her, concern on his lips, one unsteady step away from touching, that she folds into herself, covers her head with her arms, tangles her fingers in her hair, sobs.
He's been home for three nights when she finally falls apart.
Re: From yesterday, the fear... - Lexie, implied Lexie/Alex , PGslybrunetteMay 26 2010, 12:26:24 UTC
Holy. Crap. I had to go digest this for half an hour after I read before I could up with something sort of coherent.
I kind of love how people have rallied around the 'Lexie as totally traumatized' idea because, well, it's fitting with what we know of her, her place in the chaos of all of this, and it makes for really, really good fic.
He's asleep when she walks in. On his back, one arm, his right, flung out across the mattress just so. He's thrown the quilt to the side, it's more on the floor than it is on the bed and the sheets? The sheets that are tangled around his legs and draped loosely across his scarred torso?
Those sheets are red.
I knew right what she was looking at, could conjure that all up in my mind, and damn did you do such a fantastic job with this. That part sticks out, for obvious reasons, but the whole thing is heartbreaking and vivid and raw and horribly beautiful. I love Meredith's place in this, and the fact that Alex actually gets up to see what's going on, is actually concerned.
This is so my favorite thing right now and I have no idea how to put into words precisely why.
Re: From yesterday, the fear... - Lexie, implied Lexie/Alex , PGwaltzmatildahMay 27 2010, 06:26:55 UTC
Thank you so much. It's kinda nice to know that I can leave you 'speechless' in a way!
Alex's concern is totally deliberate on my behalf (obviously, 'cause I wrote it!) because I've read a few post finale fics that post him as an ass and I really, REALLY hope that isn't what happens in season 7.
This is so my favorite thing right now. Oh, really? Thanks!
Re: From yesterday, the fear... - Lexie, implied Lexie/Alex , PGcitron_presseMay 26 2010, 14:34:44 UTC
Guh - this is so powerful! Lexie's descent felt so real and oppressive and, honestly, I think my heart rate was going up through the whole thing.
I loved it that Alex answered to his name; and that he got up to see what was wrong. It was loving, and a welcome bit of solid reality to cut through Lexie's emotions, which I think, by that point, I needed nearly as much as she did!
Re: From yesterday, the fear... - Lexie, implied Lexie/Alex , PGwaltzmatildahMay 27 2010, 06:30:36 UTC
Thank you so much! I really can see Lexie being the one to struggle with what happened the most next season... especially if Alex has a tough recovery (physically or emotionally) and/or doesn't remember much about what happened (ie. the 'i love you' - which I think he was unconscious for anyway, yes? - and the begging for Izzie... which, delirium... he's unlikely to remember that either).
Man, I can't freaking WAIT for season seven damnit! I'm more interested in this than I am about the start of this season even though there was the cliff hanger (that wasn't really...).
Re: From yesterday, the fear... - Lexie, implied Lexie/Alex , PGcitron_presseMay 27 2010, 07:38:22 UTC
I think Lexie's had so much compounded trauma heaped on her, the finale events have to take a big toll.
the 'i love you' - which I think he was unconscious for anyway, yes? - and the begging for Izzie... which, delirium... he's unlikely to remember that either
Oh, totally. I honestly don't think he has any idea about either of these. And as much as Shonda says he made his choice (and as much as I might latch on to that for M/L purposes!), he was delirious . . . (Yes, I did just stand up for Alex/Lexie a little bit ;) )
(btw - I kinda love the way that what's probably a sensible time in Australia keeps coinciding with past my bedtime in California (for which you should blame any incoherence in this reply). Usually, I'm behind everyone else!
ETA: just want to note again that I have serious love for this fic.
Re: From yesterday, the fear... - Lexie, implied Lexie/Alex , PGwaltzmatildahMay 27 2010, 11:41:46 UTC
And as much as Shonda says he made his choice. I know, right? Sometimes I think that, for the creater or various hugely successful medical dramas, Shonda doesn't actually understand all that much medicine!
Yes, I did just stand up for Alex/Lexie a little bit ;) And Mark has been re-deemed for me. I think the world must be a little off kilter! Or maybe it's finally righted itself. Kinda hard to tell.
Re: From yesterday, the fear... - Lexie, implied Lexie/Alex , PGabvjMay 26 2010, 17:24:54 UTC
This is so beautiful. You write the aftermath Lexie so well -- the way she deals with this is exactly how I imagine her dealing with it. Thanks for sharing!
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He's home three nights before she finally lets herself fall apart.
Before that there'd been a rampant gunman to protect him from, blood transfusions to run the gauntlet for, ex-wives to impersonate. Before that there'd been emergency surgeries to sit through. Waiting room coffee to consume.
Traces of his dried blood to scrub from her hair.
Before he'd been home for three nights there'd been a ventilator to communicate around, silent, stony terror in his eyes to try and smooth away without actually talking about why it was there in the first place.
There'd been a heart rate monitor that effectively filled the long minutes and hours of silence as he slept and sedating pain medications that blurred his words and weakened the permanent grip his fingers now had on hers.
But it's been three nights now. He's been home for three nights when she walks into the bedroom, more 'theirs' now than 'his' despite the fact that she's barely slept in it for a month.
Barely slept in anything.
Barely slept.
But it's theirs now, not his, and no one questions the move.
He's asleep when she walks in. On his back, one arm, his right, flung out across the mattress just so. He's thrown the quilt to the side, it's more on the floor than it is on the bed and the sheets? The sheets that are tangled around his legs and draped loosely across his scarred torso?
Those sheets are red.
She freezes in the doorway, fingers gripped around the wooden edge of the frame, white knuckled and aching.
She can smell the blood again, see it smeared across the floor of the elevator as the doors slide open, feel it, slippery slick and staining, on the tips of her fingers, watch as it leaks from an impossibly tiny hole between his ribs.
He's breathing. She can see the gentle rise and fall of his bare chest, a stark contrast to the panicked gasps she's trying, failing, to silence.
He's still breathing.
But he was last time, too.
She blinks and he disappears behind a saltwater haze that she can't quite co-ordinate her limbs enough to swipe away.
Backing clumsily from the room she catches her heel in the thick hallway carpet, ends up pressed against the wall behind her. Sliding slowly, 'til her chin hits her knees and her hands clamp over her ears to muffle the sound of the gunshots that are only echoing inside her head anyway.
She stays like that for a minute. Or maybe it's three.
It could be hours, and when a figure squats in front of her, takes her face in its hands, she notices for the first time that she's cold to her core.
The figure speaks. At a volume that she can't hear and using a language that she can't quite manage to decipher.
She imagines that she can.
“He's dead. He's dead. He's dead...”
As the figure spins, abruptly and with one hand against her shoulder for leverage, she realises that it's her that is speaking.
“He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.”
There's shouting then. His name is called.
And the concrete sound of his voice as he replies, still more asleep than awake, cuts through the fog that had descended, cuts through the cumulus clouds that had taken up residence in the cavity where her heart and lungs used to live.
He struggling to stand now. Pushing to upright with one hand wrapped around still healing ribs as the figure from the hallway, as Meredith, tries, fails to push him back down.
She hasn't moved from where she's slumped, child-like and aching on the hallway floor, and it's not until he's standing before her, concern on his lips, one unsteady step away from touching, that she folds into herself, covers her head with her arms, tangles her fingers in her hair, sobs.
He's been home for three nights when she finally falls apart.
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I kind of love how people have rallied around the 'Lexie as totally traumatized' idea because, well, it's fitting with what we know of her, her place in the chaos of all of this, and it makes for really, really good fic.
He's asleep when she walks in. On his back, one arm, his right, flung out across the mattress just so. He's thrown the quilt to the side, it's more on the floor than it is on the bed and the sheets? The sheets that are tangled around his legs and draped loosely across his scarred torso?
Those sheets are red.
I knew right what she was looking at, could conjure that all up in my mind, and damn did you do such a fantastic job with this. That part sticks out, for obvious reasons, but the whole thing is heartbreaking and vivid and raw and horribly beautiful. I love Meredith's place in this, and the fact that Alex actually gets up to see what's going on, is actually concerned.
This is so my favorite thing right now and I have no idea how to put into words precisely why.
Reply
Alex's concern is totally deliberate on my behalf (obviously, 'cause I wrote it!) because I've read a few post finale fics that post him as an ass and I really, REALLY hope that isn't what happens in season 7.
This is so my favorite thing right now. Oh, really? Thanks!
Reply
I loved it that Alex answered to his name; and that he got up to see what was wrong. It was loving, and a welcome bit of solid reality to cut through Lexie's emotions, which I think, by that point, I needed nearly as much as she did!
This is seriously awesome work.
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Man, I can't freaking WAIT for season seven damnit! I'm more interested in this than I am about the start of this season even though there was the cliff hanger (that wasn't really...).
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the 'i love you' - which I think he was unconscious for anyway, yes? - and the begging for Izzie... which, delirium... he's unlikely to remember that either
Oh, totally. I honestly don't think he has any idea about either of these. And as much as Shonda says he made his choice (and as much as I might latch on to that for M/L purposes!), he was delirious . . . (Yes, I did just stand up for Alex/Lexie a little bit ;) )
(btw - I kinda love the way that what's probably a sensible time in Australia keeps coinciding with past my bedtime in California (for which you should blame any incoherence in this reply). Usually, I'm behind everyone else!
ETA: just want to note again that I have serious love for this fic.
Reply
I know, right? Sometimes I think that, for the creater or various hugely successful medical dramas, Shonda doesn't actually understand all that much medicine!
Yes, I did just stand up for Alex/Lexie a little bit ;)
And Mark has been re-deemed for me. I think the world must be a little off kilter! Or maybe it's finally righted itself. Kinda hard to tell.
I have serious love for this fic.
Thank you :)
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Thank you!
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