Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my writing.

Note: I didn't expect to be so heartsick posting this final chapter! What a journey. I'm so happy to be at the end with you guys. Read and review and thank you thank you thank you for being the best readers a girl could ask for. Cheers! :)

Chapter 20:

Lexie hurt.

For long seconds, that was all she was able to process. Pain threaded through her back, in her stomach, down her legs. It hurt to even think about moving, so she didn't. She lay with her eyes closed, listening to the beep of the monitor and holding onto the warmth of Meredith's last hug.

As the minutes slipped by, Meredith's presence ebbed away and the real world started to sink back in. A second beeping machine, quieter than the first, kept an offbeat rhythm. She could feel the hospital sheets under her, soft but not nearly soft enough to make any part of her aching body feel better. We need to buy softer sheets. There. Her first coherent thought. Knowing that she could still think, and that she was even in good enough shape to think through the importance of still being able to think- meta-thinking? She asked herself blearily- made her brave enough to open her eyes.

She was in a room with a window. Duck wallpaper bordered the walls across from her and the wall was cream, instead of the surgical floor's unremarkable grey. She must be up in the maternity ward. She blinked blearily at the ducks, watching them blur indistinctly together and separate again only if she focused hard. She was in a lot of pain. Enough pain that she was trying not to think about it. Was that the opposite of meta-thinking? Or just meta-thinking in a different sense?

"Lex." A voice drew her from her thoughts, not abrupt or loud enough to really shock her but still a surprise. She had thought that she was alone. Turning her head slowly over to the one corner of the room she couldn't see, she had to blink a couple of times before she could process the new details in her vision. More ducks, two chairs placed against the wall- and her father. He had been sitting in the closer chair, but he stood now. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face grey. She was used to seeing him like this, unkempt and ragged, but the look always came hand-in-hand with the smell of scotch on his breath. Right now the relief in his eyes was crystal-clear, unspoiled by alcohol, and he stood steady. Her mouth curved into a shaky smile.

"Hey dad," she croaked. It was easier than she had thought it would be to talk. One system healthy and accounted for, she thought to herself wryly.

"Hi. Hi." Thatcher reached out his hands and drew her hair from her face, stroking her head like she was still a little girl. "Oh Lexie." She looked up at him, unsure for a moment how to feel. From this angle Thatcher looked taller and broader than he really was, the loving, strong hero that every girl wanted to believe her father to be. The look couldn't suit him. He wasn't that man. That man would never have raised a drunken hand to his little girl. The sting of that day months ago at his house had kept her from telling him about the baby, even though she had known throughout her entire pregnancy that he would have wanted to be involved. But in spite of the deep, sharp hurt that she knew may never heal completely, Lexie loved him. And so, she took a breath and forced herself to think about what it must have been like for Thatcher to have known that she was under the knife. How it would have felt to find out that not just his daughter but a grandchild he didn't even know he had might not make it out of surgery alive. He and Meredith hadn't even had a functional relationship, and her death had still broken him. Even though he was far from a perfect father, she knew in her heart how deeply he loved her. "I'm sorry. I should have-" Thatcher made a choking noise, struggling against tears, and stopped. Lexie could fill in the blank. Should have been there for her sooner. Should have supported her through Meredith's death instead of adding something else to her plate. Should have sobered up without having to be forced. She knew that she had every right to be angry with him, for all the ways he had come up short, and she was. But it felt to her, more and more, that there just wasn't time to let hurt have the last word.

"I know dad," she said softly. "I love you." Thatcher took her hands and squeezed them tightly.

"My girl," he said over and over. "My little girl."

After a couple of minutes, Alex came in. His face broke into a huge grin and he came over to the bed. Thatcher shuffled over to the side, letting him pass.

"You're awake!"

"Shhhh," Lexie groaned. "Sledgehammer voice." Alex smiled wider. That was the thing about post-surgery, you could insult people and say exactly what was on your mind but as long as you were doing it coherently people were never offended, just excited. Briefly, Lexie pondered her choice of the phrase "sledgehammer voice," which was apt to describe the situation but also weirdly creative. It occurred to her that she must still be on a fair bit of drugs. You'd never guess though, by the way her body hurt.

"Your baby's doing great," Alex said, still smiling that ridiculously big smile. "He's in the NICU but I can bring him over." Alex hesitated, pity showing on his face. "You can't hold him yet. And no breastfeeding." Lexie nodded slowly. She knew that her son would be spending a lot of time in the NICU for the first couple of weeks. It hurt already. Being apart from her baby didn't hit sharply like her injuries; it was more like a deep, dull ache that spread out like liquid from her chest. But she would survive, and so would he. They were fighters.

"Thank you for saving my life," she said. Alex shook his head.

"Addison and Arizona were miracle workers. You-" he stopped.

"Flatlined." Lexie looked up at his surprised face. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah…" Alex was close to asking her how she could have known, she could see the question on his face. But it passed as he chalked it up to a good guess. "But Arizona found the tear and she and Addison tag-teamed suturing, it was- really amazing."

"Doesn't feel so amazing," Lexie said dryly. It felt, honestly, like the lower half of her body had been put through a meat grinder. Alex nodded, serious.

"You're stuck in bed for a couple of weeks." Weeks? Lexie sighed- shallowly, because it hurt to be dramatic.

"You know best doc," she gave Alex a weak thumbs-up.

"I'm going to go get your son." He went over to the door, but then stopped and turned around. "April and Jackson have been waiting outside. They good to come in?" Lexie steeled herself. She didn't feel up to socialize, but she knew how worried her friends must be.

"For a bit," she finally said. Alex nodded and left. Lexie felt a thrill of anticipation. When he came back, he'd have her son with him.

April and Jackson rushed in together, relieved and full of energy, but Alex must have warned them to be quiet because they came over to the side of her bed silent as mice.

"Hi Lexie," April's whisper was comically hushed. Lexie would have laughed, if her body had felt at all up to it. Jackson was smiling, his eyes wet.

"You're too happy to see me. Did you think I'd just go and die on you?" Lexie attempted a joke. It wasn't really funny at all, considering how many friends and family had literally gone and died on them, but it made April (quietly) laugh nonetheless.

"How do you feel?" Jackson asked. "Do you need more pain medication?" Lexie shook her head as resolutely as she could manage. Medication made everything slippery and translucent. She needed her first memory of her son to be as clear as glass and as certain as the sky.

Jackson nodded. Her two friends stood in silence, supporting her without words as they waited for Alex to return. When he came back, wheeling a boxy cart in front of him, Lexie's breath caught. There he was. He was so little, just a bundle of pink skin and wires, still terrifyingly fragile. Tears welled up in Lexie's eyes.

Alex came right up to the edge of her bed, positioning the portable incubator as closely to her as he could. "His immune system is still weak. You can't touch him just yet." Lexie was sure that Alex was usually able to deliver that news to mothers without any problem, but it hurt her so badly- and he could see that it hurt her so badly- that he had struggled to get the words out.

"Okay," she managed, her voice dry. She kept her eyes trained steadily on her son, watching his tiny chest rise and fall. It happened so fast, how was he possibly getting any air?

"Do you have any names picked out?" April asked quietly. Lexie was silent. She could feel the expectation of the other three surgeons, their six eyes settled on her. She knew that they were all waiting for her to name the person she most wanted to honour. The baby wouldn't just be named, he would be named "after."

But there were so many people she wanted to honour. So many names that meant enough to give to her son. Susan, her mother. Arizona, Alex, Addison, for saving her life. April and Jackson, for supporting her through the months and months of mood swings and breakdowns and slow, slow recovery. Meredith. Mark. But she had known, even months ago, that she couldn't possibly name one son after two or five or ten people. There was only one of him. So she had decided that he would have her last name, and Mark's, and that his first and middle names would be all his own. Looking at him through the incubator glass, she knew that she had made the right choice. He would grow up knowing who his family was. His living, breathing self would be a truer legacy than any name.

"His name is William," she said. "William Rylan Grey-Sloan."

Alex smiled sadly as if he understood.

"That's a great name." Jackson said firmly.

April nodded. "You won't get any objections from us," she said, something strange in her smile. Jackson took April's hand and squeezed it, a similar look on his face.

"What?" Lexie asked, frowning between them. Jackson just shook his head, while April glanced at the door.

A moment later, Derek and Cristina came into the room. Lexie breathed in, feeling a new flare of pain when she thought of her sister. If only they had been able to say more than goodbye. She knew how blessed she was to have even gotten that… but it had also reawakened grief that had only just started to hurt a little less. Meredith could have told her to tell Derek and Cristina how much she loved them, how much it hurt to go. Lexie had seen it in her eyes. But there hadn't been time for that. Thank you for taking care of my family, was all she had said. It just didn't feel like enough.

She let out a breath and smiled. Meredith would want her to be happy. She was gone, and that was going to be okay. "Come in and meet William," she said. They both came over. Cristina took her hand while Derek went over to the incubator.

"We met, but we hadn't been introduced. Hi William." Derek smiled warmly at her son. Lexie, looking between Jackson and Derek, felt grateful to know that Will would grow up with men in his life who cared for him deeply, even if he would be missing a father.

"He's pretty ugly still, huh." Lexie was obliged to say, even though he was the most beautiful baby she'd ever seen. Cristina laughed.

"Thank God you said it," she agreed. Jackson frowned jokingly.

"He's homely in a very sophisticated way, Lex." He informed her.

"Oh give the kid a break!" April interjected. "If you'd been through what he had yesterday you wouldn't look half that good." Lexie closed her eyes for a moment. It was so nice to hear everyone laugh.

"We know you must be exhausted Lex," Derek put one hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and nodded ruefully. They would all need to go pretty soon. "But there's one more person who really wants to visit you." Inexplicably, Derek was crying.

"Derek?" It came out as a question, her brows knit together in concern. He shook his head, crying and smiling. There were tears in Cristina's eyes too.

"I'll just- we'll be right there." he managed, and then left.

"Why are you all staring at me?" she asked the room, breaking a long silence.

"Just wait," Cristina said.

"Crist-"

"Just-" Cristina said again. She squeezed her hand. "Wait."

So Lexie waited, counting the ducks on the wall. She had made it to fourteen when the door opened again. She glimpsed brown hair, blue eyes, a skinny form in a wheelchair.

But it was a long moment of incomprehension before she realized that what she was seeing was Mark.

Alive. Leaning forward in the chair, crying hard, slim and grey and smiling and alive.

"Mark?" she said. "Mark?" He took her hands. She was shaking. "Mark?"

"I'm here." It was his voice. Her hands gripped his, too hard, she knew she was crushing them but she needed to know that this wasn't a dream. In the dreams he always slipped through her fingers. Now he was squeezing back. "I love you. I'm here." She reached with one hand and grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him closer. Her lips met his.

"You're real," she whispered, their foreheads touching.

"I'm here," Mark said again. Lexie, overwhelmed, started to understand what that meant. Derek had finally come through. William had a father. The realizations flew like fire through her veins, eclipsing the pain and exhaustion, making her strong.

She had been broken after that plane had come down, and she had forged herself back together piece by ruined piece. She had built a life for herself that was good, better than good, without him. She had healed. She could live without those hands, those eyes, those lips. And now they were here, and hers, and she didn't have to.

"We have a son," she said, reaching to touch Mark's cheek with one hand. "William."

"William," Mark said it like a prayer. "William."

"I love you." Her voice was barely a whisper. She remembered, with perfect clarity, the night that she had first confessed to him, his awkward thank you for your candor in response, how angry and hurt she had still been when she climbed into the doomed plane the next day. Had they known then what they knew now… She looked into his eyes, searching for regret. But she found only joy.

"I love you." Mark kissed her again, deeply.

They held each other, the future stretching out wide in front of them.

…

She's alone at the bar until the door chimes. He comes in, wraps his arms around her from behind and kisses her neck.

"I thought you were going to Derek's," he says, his voice muffled against her skin. "Everyone will wonder where you are."

"I thought I'd wait for you." She smiles and pulls away from him to look into his eyes. "How did the surgery go?"

"Well Jackson was a superstar," he says proudly. "He could have handled it all on his own. Maddy's new face is spectacular."

"You guys make a great team." She twines her fingers with his. "Will didn't make a stink about going home a little early?"

"Are you kidding?" He laughs his easy laugh. "The kid was so excited to see Zola he almost imploded. You'd think it had been years instead of a week."

"It's still weird for him not to live with her," she muses. In the months following William's birth, as Mark went through the long and difficult process of rehabilitation, they had lived with Derek and Zola in Meredith's house. Months had turned into a year, and then into nearly two. It was only when they had begun the process of adopting that they had finally needed to look for their own house. It was only a ten minute walk from Derek's, but Will and Zola still missed each other. In two months though, when five-year-old Maya joined their family officially, they would be grateful to have more space.

"He'll be old enough to walk there soon," he says playfully, "And then he can see Zola whenever he wants."

"Don't say that, he's barely two!" She swats him. Joe raises an eyebrow from the bar.

"Don't you two lovebirds have someplace to be?" And, in truth, they do. She grabs her coat and the two of them leave the bar.

They pull up at Derek's house, where the party is being held. She holds limes and a bottle of tequila. He carries her bag for her. They go inside together.

"There you are!" April, her round belly filling out a familiar maternity shirt, swarms them at the door. "Late for your own party, honestly Lexie!"

"I loved that one," she responds with a grin, pointing at the shirt. "So comfortable."

"It is," April acceeds, not looking too happy to be pulled off-course. But the shirt deserves the recognition.

Tiny feet rattle the stairs and Will comes flying from around the corner. "Mommy, daddy!" he beams, lifting up his arms. She picks him up with a good-natured groan and looks into his big brown eyes.

"You are supposed to be sleeping!" she says, half-scolding. Derek comes quickly down the stairs.

"I'm sorry," he says sheepishly. "This was not the plan."

"Are you having a sleepover with Zola?" she asks. He nods brightly and reaches for dad, who takes him easily.

"One book turned into five," Derek shook his head. "Zola's going to be a lawyer someday."

"It's okay, we got to say good night. Sleep well sweetheart." She leans and kisses William's head. He's still tiny for two, not quite caught up in size or stature to other kids his age, but he's the brightest, happiest toddler she knows. They couldn't have been more lucky.

"Lexie, you're finally here!" Arizona comes over, walking confidently on her prosthetic. "And is that tequila?"

"What else?" She laughs as he takes Will back upstairs with Derek.

"Lexie's here?" Callie looks around the corner.

"With tequila!" Arizona gives her a thumbs-up. "Good call."

She follows Arizona into the kitchen. Alex and Cristina are bickering at the counter while April anxiously supervises Jackson adding pepper to the salad.

"It's not a bad song." Cristina clarifies, not for the first time. "It's just overplayed."

"It's an anthem." Alex insists.

"It's mediocre," Cristina retorts dismissively. "And not that great of a message. "Run from your problems, kids.""

"Arguing about the merits of "Let It Go" again?" She smiles drily and joins them at the counter.

"Oh hey, nice of you to make it." Cristina says sarcastically. "To your own party."

"I was fashionably late to my own party," she responds. "Which is totally allowed."

"Tell her Let It Go is a good song," Alex demands. She thinks for a minute.

"It's a pretty good song, but it has been overplayed." she finally compromises. Cristina and Alex both scowl at her.

"Okay okay okay, supper's ready!" April chirps. "Everyone sit!"

The group of surgeons all come to sit around Meredith's old dinner table. It's crowded, elbows bumping elbows. The boys come back from upstairs and sit in their saved seats, Derek between Cristina and Callie, him beside her. April and Jackson bring out the food and lay it all out on the table. It's homemade lasagna, her all-time favourite. She smiles at April. "You did not take the time to make this from scratch."

"Oh you know I did." April grins. "And thank you for the project. I'm going insane." April's baby was due a week ago. Still pregnant, but unable to work, she had been the one to suggest Lexie's party- in large part so that she could plan it from start to end.

"Before we start eating, I'd like to propose a toast." Derek holds up his glass as the table quiets. "To our guest of honour Lexie Grey." She ducks her head, embarrassed. Sitting between her and Derek, he finds her hand under the table and squeezes it. "One of the most talented residents I've ever had the pleasure to teach. And after your year of fellowship I'm so, so proud to welcome you back to Seattle Grace as our newest neuro attending." She beams. She had begun her fellowship in general surgery, but had very quickly switched over upon Derek's direction. And really, it always should have been neuro. Him sitting beside her holding her hand was proof enough of that. "To Lexie." Derek raises his glass.

"To Lexie!" The table echoes. He leans over and kisses her as Derek smiles and all the other surgeons clink glasses and voice congratulations.

"Thanks guys," she says, a little embarrassed. "Now, uh- let's eat!"

The enormous dish of lasagna is passed around. Jackson pours wine, bragging about how he dressed the salad all by himself. Will and Zola fall asleep in the same bed upstairs.

There, through the clamor and noise of supper, in the old house inherited by Meredith Grey and then by Derek Shepherd, all of the surgeons at the table feel it stronger than ever.

Love.