this fine line
Her body’s trembling and she’s not certain if he’s aware of what he’s doing to her as the force of his kiss causes her to fall backwards, back pushed flat against the bed, her arms circling his neck. His body’s on top of her in an instant, as if they’d never parted to begin with, the familiarity of his weight overwhelming and overpowering her. mark/lexie. spoilers for all of season 6. one-shot.
She catches him alone, accidentally. She’s slipping into her on-call room, her head a blur of the day’s activities, a dying toddler and a young boy with an aneurism. She knows there are always days like these, where despite everyone’s best efforts, the patients die, but the two are so little and so frail, and she finds herself unable to watch Yang’s open heart surgery along with all of the other residents. She’s past the point of caring, so she slipped away, hoping to be alone for a few hours at least.
Mark’s sitting on the bed, head cradled in his hands, and while she can barely resist the urge to rush over to him, she knows for his sake, she must. The rules have changed between the two of them, and as much as she would love to turn back the clock, she knows too much has happened. Too much was said and done and repairing the damage she caused, that they both caused, will take much more than a talk between shifts.
Instead she hesitates, hand still stuck on the door knob, verifying for the fifth time that this is, in fact, her on-call room. But she’s memorized the number, as always, and her jacket’s still hung in the corner and his shift had ended over an hour ago. (She advises herself to withhold mentioning the end of his shift- she’s not supposed to be privy to that information anymore, and she doesn’t want him thinking into anything she says.)
He’d been avoiding her as well, taking her off of his service, and trading her off like a baseball card to whoever would have her. So, to say that the sight of him here, in her on-call room, had been unexpected, was a bit of an understatement.
"I lost two kids today," she says sympathetically, slowly ushering her way over to the bed. She sits next to him, inches between them, arms folded and buried in her lap. Her shoulders slump downward. She’s trying to improvise as best as she can, attempting to figure out what it is exactly that he needs from her. "One was only three."
He looks up at her understandingly, pain apparent in his eyes. She wants to just ask, to find out what has him so torn up inside, but she no longer has that privilege. Instead she waits, eyes lingering on his brazenly.
"I’m not sure how much longer I can keep on doing this," he says at last.
She sucks in her breath, holding it tightly, afraid to breathe, terrified to believe his words mean what she wants them to mean.
"I don’t know how to talk to her," he says slowly, rubbing his temples to massage his throbbing head. Lexie shifts over slightly, wrapping an arm around his back. She’s not sure whether she should be touching him or not, but he sought her out, and she can’t not try to comfort him.
"Sloane?" she asks slowly, without waiting for an answer. She takes her free hand and slips it in between his palms, cheek pressed against his shoulder. "You’re both new at this," she says after a few seconds. "She doesn’t know how to talk to you any better than you know how to talk to her. She’s scared and you’re all she’s got."
He nods slowly and she feels him squeeze her hand in between his. He turns to her sincerely and offers her a small smile. "I don’t know if I can do it," he admits.
She grins back at him, heartbeat racing. She has to be his friend here, to keep all of her personal feelings and thoughts to herself, and just be his friend.
"I watch you do impossible surgeries every day," she begins, looking in straight in the eye. "You repair people’s faces, their bones, their skin...you give them their lives back. You’re doing the same thing with Sloane. You’re giving her her life back. You’re helping her. You’re there for her. You’re already a great dad."
He chuckles lightly, lowering his head and letting go of her hand. She brings both hands back into her lap quickly, embarrassed that she let herself go so far. His dismissal of her stings much more than she expected, but she remains firmly seated next to him, reminding herself that he came to see her. He waited for her.
"We got into a fight," he mumbles, laughing slightly. "A stupid fight."
"About what?" she inquires, trying her best to keep a straight face. She can barely think clearly with him so close to her, and she’s been dying for this for weeks, for him to let her back in, even if just a little.
He looks at her strangely, half-smiling as he lifts his hand to cup her cheek, thumb stroking her face lightly. "Actually," he begins softly. "It wasn’t stupid at all."
Her eyes widen as she takes in the reality of his admission, that he and Sloane still talked about her. No matter what caused the fight or whose side Mark had been on, the fact remained that he’d cared enough to fight about her, and somehow, this eases all of her fears.
She finds her lids slowly slipping closed as he leans forward to kiss her timidly, his lips barely brushing against hers. She’s too afraid to push back, allowing him to take full dominion over the kiss, too terrified that if she pushes too far, she’ll lose him forever.
Her body’s trembling and she’s not certain if he’s aware of what he’s doing to her as the force of his kiss causes her to fall backwards, back pushed flat against the bed, her arms circling his neck. His body’s on top of her in an instant, as if they’d never parted to begin with, the familiarity of his weight overwhelming and overpowering her.
"I can’t," she chokes, gripping his tee shirt firmly, her fingers shaking and unsure. She’s sobbing now, tears trailing down her face as she cries, lips pursed together in a futile effort to calm herself down. "If you can’t forgive me, I...I can’t...I can’t...I can’t...."
He pulls her to her feet swiftly, arms cradling her like a child, jaw resting on her head as he embraces her, letting her son uncontrollably in his arms. "I’m sorry," he whispers softly, repeating his words every few seconds, until they become rhythmic, her heart pulsating to the beat of his words.
She’s unsure how long they remain that way, her crying softly against his chest, him apologizing and running his fingers through her hair. Eventually, a pager goes off, hers or his, the source unimportant, and they pull apart, her humiliated and exposed, him feeling criminal and torn. Their eyes meet once, quickly, before they disperse, but she ends the eye contact, rushing out of the on-call room with as much speed as she can muster.
It’s an unnerving feeling, not really knowing where they stand or how he’s feeling. She’ll cry herself to sleep that night, she’s certain of that. But she can’t help but feel a small surge of hope, in spite of the tears and the overwhelming fear inside of her, that somehow, slowly, everything will work out.
"Dr. Grey," she hears loudly on her way out that night, Bailey turning to her professionally.
"Hey," she says, spinning around, eyebrows peaked in anticipation. She’s been without sleep for almost 72 hours and she’s praying she’ll be allowed to leave, even if she doesn’t have much to go home to.
"Dr. Sloane requested you on his rhinoplasty tomorrow morning," Bailey remarks, eyeing the board. "You all right to switch with Karev?"
She’s beaming as the information sinks in, her eyes vaguely catching his as he steps out of the elevator alongside Meredith and Derek.
"Dr. Grey," Bailey repeats, not bothering to hide her impatience.
"Uh, yeah," she remarks, biting back her grin to play cool. "That works for me."
She practically skips to her car, feeling lighter and more optimistic than she's felt in weeks.
fin.