Rating: T, with a small slice of M

Author's Note: Hi, guys! I'm officially back with a (sort of) new story. If you've read You Can't Imagine, I hope you'll be pleased to know that this is the sequel. Before I dive into this, I should let you all know that it is a real work-in-progress (including the title, which I am completely at a loss for—the current one is hopefully only temporary until I think of a replacement). Therefore, please keep in mind while you read and wait for updates, that I'm still writing much of the story and figuring out where it will go in each chapter. I know it may be hard to 'enjoy' a fic on the subject this one is written on, but I hope you all will at least like it, in some way or another.

This story begins a few days after Lexie's miscarriage. The small, italicized section near the end is a flashback to pre-miscarriage Mark and Lexie.

Quick Note: Samantha (Leigh), I know you've been waiting for this. Hopefully it lives up to your expectations.

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Early April

.

"Um... Dr.—Dr. Sloan?"

"What?" He snaps, his eyes flicking to his left where the voice came from. He pauses, pressing his lips together in disapproval when he sees eight mini-doctors facing him. He looks back to his charts, sighing in exasperation. It's barely eight in the morning and his temper is already too short. "What do you want?"

"We, um, we wanted t—to say—"

"Is there anyone else here that can speak without a stutter?" He asks the group of young interns while focusing his glaring gaze at the young man who was just speaking.

"We wanted to say we were sorry," the intern replies.

"For wasting my time? Thank you, but if you hadn't spoken in the first place we wouldn't have to have this conversation."

"N—No, we, we meant—"

"Again," Mark mutters in blatant boredom, "can any of you speak without giving me the impression that you need to see a speech therapist?"

"We're sorry about the baby, Dr. Sloan," one of the girls whispers. Mark's breath catches at the mention, and when he attempts to compose himself by inhaling smoothly, the air can barely pass through to his lungs.

"Excuse me?" He manages a second later, not quite believing he heard her right…And not even wanting to come to terms with the idea that they all somehow thought it was okay to speak to him about this in the middle of a workday.

The girl falters under his direct gaze. "W—We know Dr. Grey and you—Well, we, we know Dr. Grey and we—"

"We're just sorry, is all," another girl cuts in. "I can't even begin to imagine what it must've been like..." She trails off nervously, staring at the attending surgeon and waiting for him to snap. Surprisingly, he doesn't. "Well, we just wanted to say we were sorry, and if—if Lexie needs anything—"

"I'll tell her," Mark replies, unable to hide the rush of relief and gratitude that floods into his voice. They'll help her. He feels himself almost smile at the thought, knowing how easily this situation could've turned sour. They could've rejected her as a pariah, but no…

"We can catch her up when she gets back, too," a guy pipes up from the back.

"I'll tell her," Mark repeats, managing a somewhat friendly tone.

The interns nod, looking around and obviously waiting to be dismissed. Mark sighs to himself, closing his eyes and wondering when some of these schoolchildren are going to grow up. When he opens them, one of the interns is standing a foot closer than the others. He stares down at her, waiting until she speaks. "We—we really are very sorry, Dr. Sloan. If there's anything we can do…"

Mark closes his eyes for a second and the girl's offer peters out. "Thank you for your concern. I will pass all of this along to Dr. Grey." He opens his eyes, staring at them all for a quite moment. "You should know that I really do appreciate all your offers to help her."

.

"Hey," Mark calls, opening the front door to their apartment. "Lex?"

Mark finds her on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. He sits down beside her, pulling her easily into his arms. She rests her head back against his chest, tilting her head to kiss his neck softly. "How was work?"

"Okay," Mark replies. Lexie can hear the tiredness spilling out of his voice; she really wished he hadn't gone in today. Just like she wished he wouldn't go in every day since they'd lost him. "How was today?"

Lexie shrugs, not really knowing what to say. "All right."

Mark nods, deciding not to push the subject if she doesn't want to talk to him. "Your intern friends say hello," he informs her, changing the subject. Lexie turns to look at him, surprised.

"They do?"

Mark nods. "Yeah. They were wondering when you were…coming back. They wanted to say hi."

"And what did you say?" Lexie asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I said I wasn't sure," he replies truthfully. "I didn't really know what to tell them."

Lexie nods. "What else did they say?" She asks after a couple minutes, knowing there must be more to this story.

"They offered to catch you up when you got back," Mark relays. "And they…" He looks down. "They said they were…very sorry." His voice is barely audible as he tries to speak. "For our loss."

"They…said that?" Lexie whispers, beyond shocked. "T—To you? Today?"

Mark nods. "Yeah. They all came to me in a big group." He looks away, taking a breath.

"I'm sorry they did that to you," Lexie whispers.

Mark shakes his head. "No, it's okay. It was…" He takes a quiet breath, looking back over to his girlfriend. "It was actually really reassuring to know there are people at work who will be looking out for you when you get back."

Lexie nods, feeling tears leak out of her eyes. They both know what he isn't saying: I need people to watch out for you when I can't. It takes both of them no time at all to remember the last time he wasn't around to protect her.

But Mark doesn't say anything, opting instead to hold her tighter when he realizes she's sobbing silently. He rests his chin above her head, letting her body fall back into his. He hopes his presence is enough to help her, to be of some comfort to her, though he highly doubts that he's alleviating her pain. But he can't think of anything else to do except hold her as she cries.

Mark Sloan had never felt more useless.

.

Late April

.

"Mark," Lexie whispers.

"Hm?" He murmurs, turning towards her out of habit. Though he's half-asleep, the sight of her tearstained face jolts him awake. "Oh, Lex..." He sighs quietly, shifting closer to her in bed.

"He was our baby," Lexie whispers, her voice broken and eyes swollen. "He was our baby and now he's gone."

"Come here," Mark murmurs, feeling his throat tighten as he reaches out and draws her close. "Come here, sweetheart."

"He's gone," she sobs into his chest. "He'll never be here. He's gone."

"Shh," Mark whispers, resting his chin above her head and feeling grateful that she can't see his tears. "Sh, love, you'll—" He squeezes his eyes tight, pretending he can't feel the tears leaking out of his eyes. "You'll be alright."

"I miss him," Lexie chokes out. Her strangled voice only brings more tears to Mark's eyes, and he holds her body tight against his, curling towards her as if doing so might afford her some protection.

"I miss him too," Mark manages a minute later. "More than I thought possible."

"I'm... I'm sorry I lost your son," Lexie cries. "I'm so sorry."

Mark pulls back, and despite the ruddy quality of his eyes and the tears streaming down his face, he looks his girlfriend on the eye. "Don't you ever apologize for that," he tells her, his words coming out much harsher than he'd intended. "Don't ever apologize for our baby."

"But I lost—"

"It was not your fault," Mark replies forcefully. "I don't ever want you to blame yourself for what happened again."

"Mark..."

"I'm serious, Lexie. I don't want to hear you say that again. Ever."

She pauses, gathering her breath. He looks down at her silence, immediately guilty for having used such a sharp tone with her, especially now. "I'm sorry," he whispers, staring at the sheets beneath them. "I'm so sorry this happened," he continues a second later, his voice a low murmur. "And to you, of all people. You never deserved…" He trails off, his voice drowning out as tears fall from his eyes.

"Oh, Mark," she whispers, her voice breaking as she catches sight of him. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I thought you—" She breaks off, not even sure of her thoughts anymore. I thought you were okay.

"You shouldn't have to see this," he mutters, roughly swiping at his cheeks and scrubbing his red eyes with his palms. She reaches up tentatively to remove his hands from his eyes. Her hands are shaking, but she ignores that, hoping he will, too.

"Let me see, please," she whispers. His eyes flicker to hers for just a second before resting, dead, as they stare downward. She takes in his bloodshot eyes, the bags underneath, and the tears still lurking in his lids. "Oh, honey…"

How long has he been hiding this from me? She wonders, feeling her throat constrict. How long has he held back his own tears because he's had to deal with me and mine?

"I miss him too," Mark chokes out finally. His voice is gravelly and thick with probably just as many tears as she's shed today. "I miss him and I can't stop—can't stop…" His voice lowers; so quiet that she's half-certain he's done speaking. "I can't stop blaming myself," he finishes in a trembling voice.

His words twist at her heart, and it's a couple seconds before Lexie can even begin to formulate a reply.

"You… You blame yourself?" She asks incredulously. He meets her eyes, and nods sadly. The gesture is full of shame and guilt. "Mark, why?" She asks, unable to stop vocalizing her thoughts. "That's insane. Why would it be your fault? It isn't your fault."

"Of course it's my fault," he replies automatically. He takes a moment to attempt to compose himself. "I… I was supposed to be there," he begins. "I was supposed to protect you. He was my son, and I…" His lips tremble, and she watches, frozen and heartbroken, as wet tears cascade down his cheeks. "I should have been there. For him and—and for you." He tries to take a breath, and she watches as it catches in his throat. "I should have taken care of you like I was supposed to, Lexie. You were the mother of my son and I—I should have taken care of you. I should have made sure nothing happened to you, I—"

"Mark," Lexie manages to choke out, "you couldn't have protected me from this."

"I should have at least tried," he spits out in self-loathing.

"Mark," she whispers, forcing herself to breathe. "Mark, you could never have protected me from what happened. This wasn't something you could have prevented or something you could fix after the fact." She stares at him, placing her hand on his neck. His skin is warm, and slightly rough underneath her touch. He didn't shave this morning, and she wonders what other daily rituals he's simply given up on, overpowered by the grief. "You were there for me," she reminds him. "You were there for me when I lost him, and Mark if you weren't—" She breaks off, ducking her head and trying to keep her thoughts straight against the onslaught of agonizing memories invading her mind. "If you weren't," she continues after a moment, "I would not have been able to get through it. If you weren't there, I would never have lived through that." She stares at him, feeling her eyes prick. The tears balance in her eyelids, poised to fall the moment she can no longer hold them in. "You saved my life, Mark," she finishes in a scratchy half-whisper.

The tears fall.

He crushes her body to his.

"I love you so much," he whispers—cries, really—into her ear.

Her arms wrap around his back, and her fingers clutch onto his shoulders like they're handholds. "I love you back," she murmurs into his neck. "Just as much." She clutches him close, and if it were anyone else, she'd be worried that her tight grip was hurting him.

But he isn't anyone else.

He's Mark, and more than anything, she knows that he needs to know she's there. He doesn't need a soft touch or a gentle word, he needs to physically feel that someone is there for him. He needs to know that there's someone to support him, even when he can't or won't ask for such things.

So she hugs him tight, presses a kiss into the side of his neck, and lets him take care of her instead.

Maybe, she thinks hopefully, if I let him take care of me, he'll let me take care of him.

Maybe.

.

Early May

.

"How are you?"

Mark Sloan sighs under his breath, taking his time to turn his head and look over at his best friend. He stares at the neurosurgeon while gathering enough strength to formulate a response. Eventually, he says nothing more than he ever does: "I'm fine, Derek."

"Mark," Derek mutters, drawing out his best friend's name. From his tone, Mark knows the neurosurgeon is less-than-pleased with his repetitive and meaningless response. But right now, he couldn't give a shit about Derek's opinion, not even if his life depended on it. He can't give a shit about anything these days, it seems.

"What?" Mark snaps, fire automatically lighting up his eyes and harshening his words. "What do you want?"

Derek sighs softly. "You're my best friend," he replies quietly, immediately backing down at his friend's anger. He leans forward, as if hoping closer proximity might make the other man confide in him. "And I want to know how you are."

"I said I was fine, or didn't you hear?" Mark replies coldly. He stiffens when Derek leans even closer towards him.

"It's been two months," he states softly. "And you haven't talked to me."

Mark levels his childhood friend with a gaze so chilling its been known to scare off even the most confident of medical professionals. Unfortunately, it does nothing to deter the accomplished neurosurgeon. "And what, exactly, are you waiting for me to say?"

"Anything," Derek replies, holding his friend's gaze. When he realizes that he isn't getting through, he shrugs weakly, a slight smile on his face. "Just let me know you're alive in there," he half-jokes.

Mark stares at his best friend for a long minute without expression. When he finally speaks, his words are cold and detached. "I'm not."

The plastic surgeon turns away and is halfway down the hall before the other man even has a chance to process his chilling words.

.

Early June

.

"Dr. Grey, hello."

Lexie forces a smile, holding tight on the back of the chair in front of her as she stands in the Chief of Surgery's office. Her foot is itching to tap out a nervous beat on the carpeted floor, but she holds herself in check. Be professional, she reminds herself. "What is this about?" She wonders, trying to stay as polite as possible. She hopes he can't hear the fear in her voice. You can't fire me. Please don't fire me, she thinks desperately.

"If you'd like to have a seat…" Richard Webber takes his own, gesturing with a hand to the piece of furniture Lexie is currently white-knuckling. She debates replying that she'd rather stand, but Richard holds his hand up until she follows his suggestion. Her limbs feel large and sluggish as she moves; her hands are numb from clutching the back of the chair so tight.

"I wanted to give you some time to settle back in before I called on you…"

Lexie nods warily, still wondering what this meeting is supposed to be about. Ever since Dr. Bailey pulled her aside early this morning to inform her that the Chief of Surgery wanted to meet with her privately, she's had periodic panic attacks that she'll be losing her job. Only one thought buoyed her spirits through the torturously long morning: I can always pull the grieving mother card. She remembers it now, and almost smiles at her upper hand. Dr. Webber wouldn't fire me if I cried in his office, would he? I've just had a rough couple of weeks. He'd never be so cold-hearted. Not now.

But two things stopped her from going through with that plan. One was that she knew she would never be able to cry in front of Dr. Webber. At least not willingly. And not just him, but anyone in the hospital. The mere fact that her coworkers were cognizant of what had happened last April was enough. She was gossiped about, she knew. She was whispered about behind hands and in the lunch line. They all knew too much about her personal life already—there was no way she was letting them see her personal feelings, too. And if she showed Dr. Webber, who knew how many people might know by the end of the day?

The second reason was much simpler. While it took Lexie a few hours to realize that her plan would never come to fruition for that first reason, the obvious flaw in her plan didn't hit her until she was sitting in Dr. Webber's office—and it's there that it hits her like a ton of bricks.

I am not a mother.

"Dr. Grey, I called you in here because I wanted to offer my…"

I am not a mother.

She can't even hear Dr. Webber's strained and awkward apology over the scream of her own thoughts—of that one, poisonous thought. I am not a mother. She feels her face twitch and her body shake.

"…As I'm sure Dr. Sloan communicated to you, it was a hard time for him as well. We…"

Lexie can hear the sound of her eyelids open and close as she blinks. She stares at the older man in front of her, watching his mouth move, but she can't understand a word he's saying. He might as well be speaking in Chinese, a language she barely knows how to say 'hello' in. But every few seconds, she hears that familiar name.

Dr. Sloan.

She tries to hold onto it as the blood pounds beneath her skin and her breaths seem to come in and out in loud pants. It's only when she hears her name repeated several times that she begins to come back to herself.

"Dr. Grey?" Dr. Webber asks for what must be the tenth time.

Lexie looks up, raising her head ever so slowly. The effort it takes to lift her eyes in incredible. She blinks a few times, feeling a tickling sensation spread from her eyes down her cheeks. Her eyebrows draw together in confusion, and she opens her mouth to question this odd phenomenon. But she can't speak. She can't see, either—everything is blurry and cloudy. The various shapes and colors that make up the Chief of Surgery's face are starting to blend together, much like his words had been doing moments ago. But she blinks, and everything becomes clear. Her vision returns, and a moment later, when her blood stops pounding in her ears, so does her hearing. She tilts her head up, finding Dr. Webber staring at her with a look of extreme sadness and discomfort.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, reaching for a box of tissues on the side of his desk. He offers them to her. "I guess it was too early to mention."

Lexie expands her lungs to take a breath, surprised at the effort the action requires. "No," she manages to croak a few seconds later. "It's—"

"Dr. Grey." His voice is gentle, but stern. It demands the truth.

"It's—It's—" Lexie breaks off, unable to speak as her chin trembles and her whole body begins to shake. "It's—" Fine, she tries to say, but she can't voice the word. She can't lie to yet another person. She feels her eyes spill over again, and as her whole body goes numb, she vaguely registers Dr. Webber picking up his phone and speaking rapidly into it. She could swear she heard her boyfriend's name, but that might've been only wishful thinking.

Not even two minutes later, though, are her wishes are proven to be correct.

Lexie's head whips around when she hears the door to Dr. Webber's office bang open. It hits the opposite wall, but neither the visitor nor the Chief of Surgery seems to care. The attending surgeon shares a few terse words with his superior, but their voices are too low and far away—and her mind is too clouded and confused—for Lexie to make any sense of what they're saying. And before she can open her mouth to try and speak, to ask what they're saying, he's by her side, kneeling in front of her chair. He's murmuring to Dr. Webber as he gently wipes away her tears in a few practiced and overused strokes of his thumbs, but Lexie can't make out those words either. Only one thought dominates her brain, the one that had been poisoning her mind since its very inception.

I am not a mother.

"Mark," she whispers brokenly. Her voice cracks through the silence in the room like a fist through glass. "Mark."

The plastic surgeon forces a smile, cupping her face with his hands. "Yeah, baby?" He whispers, staring up at her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

She reaches up, encasing his wrists in her fingers, manacling him to her. "I'm not a mother, Mark." She watches his face twist in sympathy for a split-second before continuing, feeling the need to explain. "I—I thought Dr. Webber was going to fire me, and I—I was going to defend myself by saying that I was a grieving mother, and that's—that's why I… That's why I haven't been doing so well…"

His eyes fall closed. "Oh, sweetheart…"

"But I'm not a mother, Mark. I'm not—" She breaks off, swallowing and attempting to rein in her emotions. While she does so, Mark moves closer to her, crouching nearer to her chair.

"You wanna go home?" He asks softly.

She shakes her head.

He gives her a small smile, reaching up to stroke her face. He pushes some of her hair out of the way, tucking it behind her ear. "You've done so well," he whispers. "These past few weeks… You've done really well, baby."

She nods dumbly, finding herself incapable of coherent speech. "I… I…"

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to. I can take you home," he suggests quietly.

"No, I…" She finally finds her voice. It's cracked and dry, as if she'd been dying of thirst for days. "I can't," she struggles to say. "I can't leave."

He closes his eyes, moving closer to her. "Lex," he whispers. "Of course you can."

"My—My shift's not over. My job—"

"Richard won't fire you," Mark replies resolutely. Lexie watches as his eyes leave her face for a second—looking somewhere over her shoulder. A moment later, Dr. Webber rushes to affirm his employee's statement. "See?" Mark asks quietly, turning back to his girlfriend. "It's okay. You don't need to be here right now. I can take you home if you can't handle it."

"I can handle it," Lexie snaps in reply, her eyes flashing. Her voice is sharp and scathing, and he immediately regrets trying to coddle her. "I can handle it," she repeats a moment later, her voice a bit softer, yet still just as determined. Mark nods, understanding.

"I know," he replies, shifting his weight back onto his heels and removing his hands from her face. "I know you can."

"I just…" Lexie sighs, closing her eyes. She wipes her face when a few leftover tears leak out. She takes a breath before opening her eyes. When she does so, she doesn't look to her boyfriend. Instead, she turns in her chair, seeking out her boss. He stares back at her with a mixture of pity and sorrow on his kind, aged face. "Dr. Webber, I understand that you were trying to offer your sympathies, and I thank you for that. It's just that I… I don't want them."

The older man sighs, stepping forward. "Dr. Grey…"

"I'm serious," she replies, her voice surprisingly stern despite the fact that she's speaking with the head of the hospital. "Coming into work—coming back, after—after what happened here—has already been hard enough. Seeing all the pitying looks from every person on the surgical staff is hard enough. Remembering everyday what happened in that exam room is hard enough." She looks at him with a plea shining in her eyes. "Please," she says softly, "please don't remind me again. I know you meant well. And I—both Mark and I—we really appreciate it. But we just—we just don't need it, Dr. Webber. We really don't."

The Chief of Surgery nods slowly, taking a few steps around the room to resume his seat behind his desk. He stares at his two employees before him in turn, taking a few moments to settle on each of their faces as they sit in identical chairs before him. "I understand," he replies finally. Lexie breathes a sigh of relief as Mark closes his eyes briefly in thanks. "But," he qualifies a moment later, meeting both pairs of worried eyes. "Will you at least let me say my piece before I promise not to bring it up again? Just so I feel like I've properly paid my respects?"

Lexie looks to her boyfriend for a moment, and after seeing the look in his eyes, she reluctantly nods, allowing Dr. Webber to speak.

"I would first like to say how incredibly sorry I am to the both of you," he begins softly. "Personally, I have never experienced a loss like this, but I'm sure it is one of the most painful tragedies one can endure." Mark and Lexie both nod, looking down. Richard pauses, watching as the plastic surgeon reaches out, taking his girlfriend's hand in his. He gives in a quick squeeze, and when Richard sees the intern's knuckles go white for a brief second, he knows she returned the gesture. Their hands don't break as he continues. "I can sympathize with what both of you are feeling, but unfortunately I am unable to empathize completely. If you should ever need help, though, I would like you both to know that there is a virtual army of psychiatrists, psychologists, and grief specialists in this hospital, any one of which you should feel free to visit. Please forward their fee to me."

"Richard," Mark cuts in, his blue eyes wide with shock. "There's no reason to—"

"Dr. Sloan, I am well aware of how much money you make." He stares hard at one of his most profitable employees. "I am offering these services to you—and to Dr. Grey—as a personal favor. And I ask that you please take advantage, even if you think it may seem unnecessary.

"Now…" He pauses, taking the moment to look both of them in the eye. "If either of you need time—and I mean any kind of time, any kind of leave—tell me. Do not hesitate to give yourself a break when things get too hard." He glances to Mark. "I've sent you home before Dr. Sloan, and I can do it again." Mark glances away, but from the way his eyes flickered back to Richard's, both knew he got the message. "And you, Dr. Grey," he continues, turning to the young intern. He takes a slow breath, folding his hands together. "I can somewhat understand Dr. Sloan's point of view here, but with you, Dr. Grey, I regret to say that I am completely at a loss. I cannot even begin to imagine what this is like for you, how difficult it must be." He gives her a weary smile. "I'm sure some days it's just hard enough getting up in the morning, let alone going into work—especially at a job like this." Lexie nods shallowly. "Especially at a hospital like this," he adds seriously a moment later. "I know how challenging working here can be, especially while still finding your way into the profession as a surgical resident… And I know what the climate is like here, what the people are like." He pauses to look her in the eye. "If anyone—I don't care if it's a department head or a janitor—says anything derogatory to you about your situation or your relationship, please report them to me."

Lexie gives him a weak smile, half-feeling like she might laugh. "Thank you for the concern, Dr. Webber," she replies, "but this isn't middle school. I'm not going to send every nurse that says a mean word about me to the principal."

"Dr. Grey." Richard leans over his desk towards the intern. "Please take note of the fact that I am serious about this. I know this hospital can be a rude and sometimes incredibly hurtful place. There is no reason you should have to deal with those sorts of experiences on a daily basis, not after what you've been through these past few weeks."

Lexie stares at him for a few silent minutes before clearing her throat lightly. "Is that all?" She asks politely. Richard regards her for a moment before nodding slowly. Just when Lexie's about to open her mouth to speak, though, he holds up a finger. She waits patiently for him to reach the end of his train of thought. "Dr. Grey…" He begins. "Am I correct in saying that you initially thought I called you in here to discuss your job performance?"

Lexie looks down at the floor briefly. "Yes," she replies after a moment. "I did." She takes a breath. "I know I may have slipped a bit in these past few weeks, but I assure you—"

"On the contrary, Dr. Grey," Richard interrupts, "your professionalism and continued work ethic despite your circumstances in rather astounding."

"As…Astounding?" Lexie repeats dumbly.

Richard nods, sparing a moment to smile at the young intern. "I've seen many employees—even a few interns—experience various losses while on the job. Many of them requested extended leave to deal with their grief, others took it out on their coworkers, and some, sadly, let it cloud their judgment while on the job." He sighs quietly, happily. "But your ability to hold things together and not only survive your job, but excel in it is really…" He shrugs. "I'll just have to say it again: you astound me."

She gives him a tiny smile. "Well, thank you, Dr. Webber. That…that really lifts a large weight off my shoulders."

Richard inclines his head toward her. "I would love to do nothing else."

"But," she hedges a moment later, "about what you offered earlier… That is much more support than I ever expected…or wanted." She sighs softly. "Please believe me when I say that I am incredibly grateful for all that you've done for Mark and I over the past weeks… But just know that I, at least—" she spares a quick glance to her boyfriend "—I will not be taking advantage of anything you have offered me today." She lifts her chin. "I'm here to do my job, Dr. Webber, and I hope that after today that will be all that I'm here for."

The Chief of Surgery takes a deep breath, exhaling through his nose as he reclines in his chair. He tilts his head, tipping his chin towards one of his senior surgeons. "Do you share this outlook?"

Mark moves forward in his chair, looking his boss in the eye. "For now, yes. I agree with Lexie that work is for work. We've always tried to keep our personal life our of this hospital—at home—and I hope it will continue to be that way."

Richard sighs again, nodding reluctantly. "All right," he finally acquiesces. "If you really want it to be that way, that's fine." He gets to his feet, and Mark and Lexie both follow his example. "If at any time, though, you would like to take me up on my promise for extra leave or some of our grief counselors, please do not hesitate to ask me. The offer will stand for as long as I am Chief of Surgery here."

Lexie nods.

"Thank you," Mark replies quietly.

"Well…" Richard holds out a hand towards his office door. "I guess this is the point where I tell you to leave my office and keep your personal life out of the halls of this hospital." He gives them a friendly smile a moment later, and both Mark and Lexie let out feeble chuckles at his weak joke. A minute later, they're both headed to the door.

Richard calls out to Lexie just as she and Mark and walking out the door. "And, Dr. Grey?"

She pauses, loitering between the hallway and the Chief's office.

"I am truly sorry for bringing it up," he apologizes softly. "If I had known…"

She forces a smile. "It's okay. I'm sorry I broke down and cried in your office, Dr. Webber. It was…" She trails off with a sigh. "Really unprofessional."

He shakes his head, his face still full of kindness. "You don't ever need to apologize for grieving after a lost child, Dr. Grey." He gives her a small smile. "You are a mother, after all."

Lexie Grey stares at her boss for so long after he says those words, both he and her boyfriend are worried she's about to fall apart again. But at long last, she speaks. Her voice shakes and her chin trembles, but she gets out the words: "Thank you."

.

Late June

.

"Hey," Mark calls. "I'm home."

"Hey," Lexie replies, walking over to meet him with a smile on her face.

"What was that for?" He asks softly as she kisses him hello, pressing her chest to his.

"No reason," she whispers against his lips. "I'm just happy to see you."

"I'm happy to see you too," he replies, looking into her eyes. Lexie steps forward, pressing her body to his and wrapping her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. Mark responds immediately, though a little taken aback, and wraps his arms around her back. As the heat between them rises, they begin kissing like they used to, their lips crashing and falling upon one another's like waves breaking on a shore. When they come up for air a minute later, there's an amused glimmer in Mark's eye and a light flush to his girlfriend's cheeks.

"I've missed you," Lexie whispers breathlessly. "Really missed you."

"I've missed you too," he replies, cupping her face. He leans forward, drawing her lips to his, and letting his mouth fuse onto hers again. They kiss slowly this time, as if they're exploring uncharted territory, and they want to do so carefully. It's only a couple minutes before Lexie's hands wander to his chest, slipping down his front as they unzipper his dark leather jacket. Mark shrugs out of it easily, letting it fall, discarded, to the floor. Her hands then drift downward, tugging at the hem of his shirt, letting her fingers explore the muscled abdomen beneath the fabric. As her fingers reach higher, almost to his torso, Mark breaks the kiss, letting his hands fall to hers, holding them immobilized between them as he meets her eyes.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks, short of breath. This is the first time they've had any real intimate contact since they lost their son, and Mark doesn't want to scare her away or hurt her further by letting her rush through things just because she's upset or feeling lonely. He doesn't want to do anything to break the small, yet unsatisfying peace they've found in their lives since the disaster-slash-connection in New York. But, another side of him reasons—the side he has less control over, the selfish side—what if this is what she needs, what if this is what she's been waiting for? What if this could shatter the veiled sadness they've been living behind for months?

"Yes," she replies, drawing his face back to hers so their lips are on the verge of meeting. She knows what he's worried about and she's determined to prove him wrong. I'm not weak. I can do this. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Medically," he interrupts, tearing his mouth from hers. "Medically, can you—"

"Mark," she interrupts with a small smile. "It's been almost three months. Two periods have gone by. I'm healthy, I'm fine… But I need us to be fine."

He stares at her for a long moment before a grin spreads over his face. She smiles reflexively at his happiness, and when he steps forward and crushes her body against his in a tight hug, she manages to weakly hug him back. "We'll be more than fine," he whispers in her ear. She smiles, reaching down at taking his hand. She tugs on it lightly, leading him to the back of their apartment.

Before either of them really knows what's happened, the two are in the bedroom with their clothes off. Lying comfortably on the mattress beneath him, Lexie pulls her boyfriend's head down to meet her lips for a deep kiss. She almost jumps a second later when his hands move to cup her hips, sliding over the sensitive skin just beneath her navel. She breaks the kiss with a quiet, forced laugh as his fingertips ghost over her ticklish skin. He meets her eye, a half-hearted smile on his lips. He can barely look at her without remembering the last time they'd been together like this: laughing, grinning, shouting, moaning… He can see it in his mind's eye, and the scene taunts him with its happiness and unattainability.

.

"Mark, stop it," Lexie shouts through her laughter, trying to shove his wandering hands away from her ticklish midsection.

"Stop what?" He asks, pinning her beneath him as his lips move from hers to trail down her neck. "Stop this?" He asks, licking a trail down the curve of her collarbone and smoothing her sides with his palms. Lexie sighs, letting her eyes fall closed.

"Mm, no, keep going," she murmurs, letting her hands tie into his hair as her legs wrap around his body, anchoring him to her. His mouth is at her breasts now, no doubt waiting with anticipation to lick and suck them to pearled nubs as he has many times before.

"Markkk." Lexie's moan draws out his name, causing him to grin against her soft skin as his tongue swirls around her right nipple. He takes his time before switching to the left and depositing the same treatment on her other side.

"Mark, please," Lexie pleads a minute and a half later, her voice breathless and coming out in near-pants. "Quit teasing me already."

"I wasn't teasing," Mark replies, shifting his weight so he can lean closer to her face. "A tease is someone who has no intention of giving in to temptation." He ducks down, kissing her languidly. "Whereas I…" He grins. "I have every intention of giving you what you want."

He punctuates his soft-spoken statement roughly by thrusting into her wet heat in one fluid motion, bringing him up to the hilt of her body. Lexie closes her eyes in ecstasy, letting out a little cry of pleasure just before Mark begins moving within her. Each time he pulls out, he almost reaches the surface before thrusting back in again—hard and full of unmasked desire. Lexie reaches up, wrapping her forearms around his neck and kissing him passionately, encouraging him silently but effectively. In minutes, seconds—

.

Mark hesitates just before they are about to join, nervous now as he's been about every step that's led up to this moment. "Lex," he whispers again. "Are you sur—"

"Mark, please," Lexie cuts in. Her hands reach up to cup his face. "Please," she whispers, looking into his eyes. He hesitates for only a moment more, unable to tell if its true arousal or a desperation to forget in her eyes, before thrusting himself gently within her. Both Lexie and Mark's eyes fall closed at the wave of intimacy; Mark lets his head fall and rest against her chest, murmuring her name. Lexie's hands latch onto his shoulders, hitching her body even closer to his, needing something to hold onto before she breaks…

Neither move for a few minutes, but when Mark raises his head, his eyes immediately find hers. Lexie's eyes, which are still closed, have tears leaking out the sides, trailing down her face at the slowest of paces.

"Are you all right?" He asks dumbly, terrified he was too rough with her fragile body or that their actions were premature. What if she was ready but her body wasn't? What if she couldn't take it? What if she's still recovering? What if I hurt her? Mark thinks, horrified. Oh, god, what if—

"Lexie," he whispers, his voice tinged with terror. "Lexie, are you—"

"I'm—I'm," she breaks off. "Just—just give me a moment," Lexie murmurs a second later, raising her hand to once again hold his cheek in comfort. She opens her eyes a second later, hoping she's in control of her emotions… Or at least her expression of them. "I'm okay," she says at last. "You can keep going."

He frowns, shaking his head. "No. Not if I'm hurting you," Mark replies seriously, bringing a ring of finality to his voice and their conversation.

"You aren't," Lexie whispers. "This is—this is what I wanted—"

"—But?" Mark cuts in knowingly. Lexie's eyes fill once again at his qualification, and Mark's heart breaks at the sight.

"But it isn't working," Lexie explains in tears, looking down. "I—I thought this might make us normal or—" She sucks in a sharp breath "—or happy or something, but it…" She sniffs loudly. "It's only made things worse."

"Lex…"

"All I do is make things worse," she admits tearfully. " I can't stop thinking about him," she whispers. "And I don't—I don't want us to act like he's gone. I don't want to move on with—without him," Lexie whispers. "Ev—Everyone else has," she cries, "everyone's forgotten… But, Mark, I haven't forgotten. I can't forget, no matter how hard I try."

Mark reaches down to stroke her face with his fingertips, lifting her eyes to his. "I know, baby," he whispers. "I can't forget, either, believe me." He attempts to detach their bodies and lie next to her, but her protesting hands keep him reluctantly in place. He still can't shake the feeling that he's hurting her, and it keeps him on edge.

"I know," he repeats a moment later. "But we can't do anything for him. He's—gone." Mark's voice cracks. "No matter how much we try to remember him, that won't bring him back, Lex." She cries harder at this, not gleaning any comfort from his words. "I miss him just as much as you do. Truly, I do." Tears begin to fill his eyes as well. "But we can't—we can't keep living like this, Lex. We aren't living. We lost him and there's no way we can go back." He lifts a hand to stroke her hair, speaking softly. "I don't want to say we should move on, because I don't want to, but—we—we could at least try to be happy." He swallows roughly, staring at her. "We could try. And if that means putting him out of our minds for a couple minutes or a few hours during the day...If that's what it takes to fix us, to make us happy—then, Lex, I'll do it. I…" He trails off, forcing himself to take a breath. "I just want us to be happy, Lexie." He shakes his head at the futility of that wish. "I want the pain to go away."

Lexie stares at him for a long minute before whispering, very softly, "This isn't fair." She avoids his eye as she speaks, feeling like a child with her elementary-school complaints. But Mark's face fills with sorrow at her words, his grief plain to see on his face.

"I know," he murmurs, bending down to kiss her bare shoulder softly. "Nothing about this is fair. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"Why does it have to hurt?" She whispers brokenly. "And—And so much, so strongly? All—All I wanted was to be with you." She looks away, wiping her eyes. "Just—just for a few minutes, like—like you said, I just wanted to forget about what happened to us. I wanted to be happy, Mark. I wanted to be in love." She bites her lower lip, trying to forestall the tears she can feel springing to her eyes. "I thought doing this would help us, but I… I guess this was just another lie I told myself, the same as all the others."

"You weren't lying to yourself." Lexie opens her eyes at her boyfriend's hushed but harsh words. "You weren't lying to yourself," he repeats. "We are in love." He swallows. "We might not be happy right now, Lex, but we do love each other."

Her expression shakes when she tries to force a smile. "Then why haven't we made love in months?"

Mark sighs, closing his eyes in sadness. But Lexie continues undeterred.

"If we're so in love, why do we spend all our time brooding and crying? Why don't we have friends over for dinner or meet up at work? Why don't we talk about anything besides the baby we lost? Why… Why don't we makes joke or… Or laugh anymore?" Her breath catches, and Mark opens his eyes reluctantly, just in time to see his girlfriend's eyes spill over with tears. "Mark," she whispers, reaching up to hold his face in her hands, "when's the last time one of us has laughed?"

He shakes his head, not knowing the answer. He stares down at her in silence for a few seconds before slowly untangling their bodies and moving to lie, facing her on his side, on their bed.

"It's been months, Mark," Lexie whispers, staring at him with tortured eyes. "Why can't we be happy? Why can't we live a normal life?"

Mark's eyes close, and his mouth draws down in a saddened frown. "I don't know," he whispers into the darkness behind his eyelids. He squeezes his eyes shut harder, as if cutting his mind off from visual stimulation will stop it from working. But it doesn't. The more he tries not to think about that horrible day last April and the unborn son they lost, the more his mind is flooded with toxic and torturous images. They pile up in his brain—blood-stained and tear-streaked—until he can't take it anymore. But the reality that greets him is not much better.

"Oh, Lex," he whispers, touching his girlfriend's cheek softly as he takes in her tearful expression. "Lexie…"

"Did you…" She wipes her face—first the left cheek, then the right—before letting her hand fall to the mattress and speaking again. "Did you know I dream about him?" She asks softly. Lexie keeps her eyes trained on his, watching as his body freezes next to hers. "Yeah," she continues without waiting for a response. "I do."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mark asks in a hushed tone, imaging her dreams to be made of the same horrible material that feeds his horrific nightmares.

"I don't know," she whispers with a shrug.

"What…" Mark swallows, bracing himself for the worst. "What do you dream about?"

Lexie shrugs again, and Mark moves closer until their faces are barely an inch apart. He stares into her eyes until she speaks. "I dream about us," Lexie replies eventually, just as Mark was sure she was going to say I don't know again. Her voice is soft and sweet, flowing smoothly like it used to before the grief and pain ruined her voice. "What it would be like if it was us three. You, me, and…" Mark can see her visibly swallow, the muscles in her throat working to give her a voice. "And Michael," she finishes with effort, her voice almost inaudible. "We're—we're a family in my dreams."

It takes Mark many minutes and multiple long, deep breaths to process this. She isn't having nightmares. He almost smiles, but not before realizing that he can never tell her. Her dreams, for now, are happy. He has no right to poison that beautiful but unattainable future her mind has generously supplied for her with his horror-story nightmares. It's not her fault your mind is a cesspool of pain and suffering, he reminds himself. Just like your life, she was quick to point out.

When Mark manages to speak, his voice comes out much more ragged than he'd intended. "Do you see him?" He asks, studying the fibers in their bed sheets and latching onto one good thing in all of this. Lexie glances over to him at the question, quietly surprised that he isn't looking at her. The longer she stares at him, the more sure she becomes that he's struggling not to cry again in front of her.

"Oh, honey," Lexie murmurs, finally realizing. She reaches out a trembling hand, placing it on his shoulder. "Mark…"

"I just want to know what he looks like," Mark replies, still not meeting her eyes. She can feel the tension in his shoulders, and she knows he's physically holding himself together so he doesn't fall to pieces in front of her. "I—I want to know my own son."

Lexie closes her eyes at his words, biting the inside of her lower lip to keep her own tears in. "Baby, they're dreams," she explains after a few seconds of tense silence. "They aren't real."

Mark shakes his head, and Lexie watches as the movement dislodges a few tears that were threatening to fall down his cheeks. He doesn't bother brushing them away, focusing instead on breathing properly. Mine feel plenty real, he thinks but doesn't say. "I've never seen him, Lex," he whispers. "I—I don't know what he looks like or who he is—"

"I don't either," Lexie assures him hurriedly. "Mark, I don't know him any better than you."

"But you do," he replies, his voice desperate. "You know him so much better than I do. I've never had anything to do with him, but you—you were there. You always had him with you. He was a part of you."

"Mark, please," Lexie whispers. "You had everything to do with him. Don't try and tell me you weren't involved. Don't say that. Don't do that to yourself, or to me. You were his father."

Mark takes a shaky breath. "I—I was involved," he concedes after a minute. "But I… I had—I have—no idea who he is. Was. I don't know him like you do."

"I don't know him either!" Lexie exclaims in protest. "You have to believe that; I have no idea who he is!"

"You're his mother," Mark counters calmly. "You know him."

"Mark, that would have been true if he'd—if he'd l—lived…" She swallows roughly. "But he didn't. So I don't know him. He… Mark, he was barely a person when we lost him. He was barely alive."

Mark tries to bite his lower lip to keep it from quivering, but all he succeeds in is drawing blood. "I know," he whispers a moment later, licking his injured lip as the tears fall from his eyes. Their salt mixes with his cut lip, but he doesn't flinch at the sharp pain. His voice is as biting as the cut on his lip when he speaks. "I know he was barely alive, Lexie, but thank you for reminding me."

She leans towards him, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck as she hugs him "I'm so sorry, honey."

"Me too," Mark whispers back, holding her tight in an apology for his bitter words.

"It'll—" She pulls back, looking him in the eye with a struggling-to-be-optimistic smile. "It'll be alright, won't it?"

He forces a returning smile. "Sure," he whispers with a tired sigh. "Sure it'll be alright."

.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I know it was quite sad, but I'm guessing you guys knew that would be the deal before you started reading. Anyway, I would LOVE to hear what you guys thought of the first chapter! Please leave me a review below!

I will try to update soon, but again, this is quite a work in progress. I apologize for any delays.