Title: You Keep Passing Me By (1/1)

A/N: I know, I should be updating IHYBMM (Wow, that's a lame acronym), but I just got 6 new Mat Kearney songs and I can't stop listening to them. This fic grew out of my newfound obsession/love for a song called "Ships In the Night," which I think (sadly) completely embodies Mark and Lexie.

Summary: He hopes for the best while continuing to suffer through the worst. Mark after the clusterfuck known as the season seven finale.

Disclaimer: I don't own these lyrics or these characters. If I did, Jackson would've been the Mercy Wester to die in season six, not Charles or Reed. And they would play a lot more of Mat's music on the show.

. . .

Like ships in the night

You keep passing me by

Just wasting time; trying to prove who's right

. . .

Mark made it home uncharacteristically late that night. He hadn't stayed so long at the hospital because he wanted to be there, but more because he hadn't wanted to come home. Not when he knew what he was coming home to and what he was leaving behind. Not when he knew she was going home with him and he was going home to an empty apartment he knew would never be full again. Not when he knew he would never feel the same—be the same—without her. Nothing's the same without her.

I'm letting you go, Lexie. That means you've gotta walk away. He tried not to remember why he'd wasted the hours at the hospital. He tried not to remember how he'd spent the duration of three now-mundane surgical procedures trying to convince himself he'd done the right thing. By trying to make himself believe that she'd be better off without him. He wouldn't be better off without her, of course, but that didn't matter. This wasn't about him.

After he stepped off the elevator, Mark walked slowly and soundlessly to his apartment door. He slid the key into the lock, waiting for the predictable click to tell him to turn the knob. He did so, throwing the door open wide as if waiting for a glorious surprise. The knob makes a bang when it hits the far wall, stretching the door on its hinges.

Standing in the doorway, Mark carefully releases the rather large breath he'd been holding as his eyes take in the empty room before him. Who was he kidding, anyway? He had been waiting for her. He had been expecting her. He had held out hope that she'd changed her mind.

But he has to stop. He needs to. The hope has to end, for both of them.

"Stop." He even says it aloud, desperate for the order to be absorbed by his brain and heart. His voice is hushed and soft; he tries to ignore the way it shakes. "Stop hoping. Just leave it alone. Just—Just leave her alone."

She'd asked him so many times in so many different ways to do just that—leave her the hell alone. You have to stop. You gotta stop talking to me and checking on me and talking to my boyfriend. But he'd never listened. He'd always expected she hadn't meant it. He thought she never really wanted to be without him—like he never wanted to be without her—but it's time to face the facts. She doesn't want you.

Even his own, silent thoughts make his jaw clench and his body tense. He forces himself to calm down, to relax himself. He takes a deep breath, repeating the thought. She doesn't want you. It's torture, but it's necessary. It's awful, but it's true. It makes him want to give up, but it will help him move on.

Move on, he thinks, still standing motionless in the doorway. That's what people did when they lost whom they wanted, right? They moved on. They found someone else. They dated someone else. They fell in love with someone else. They moved on to bigger and better things.

Mark lets his eyes fall closed as he takes a steadying breath. He knew what Derek would say if he were here. It'll be okay. You'll… You know, you'll find someone else. There are plenty of other women. Plenty of people you can connect with. You can do it. It'll be hard, man, but you can do it. Besides, you have to. You can't just hang onto her forever.

Derek would make it seem like there was no other option. Derek would make it seem like being with Lexie had been his job and now that he had been fired, it was time to move on and find another. It was time to get out there and start searching for a new career. It was time to move onto something else.

"But I don't want that," he whispers softly, as if his best friend was standing before him to listen and coach him just like they were kids again. I don't want someone else. I don't want to move on.

. . .

Turn the lights down low

Walk these halls alone

We can feel so far

From so close

. . .

He knew what Addison would say. Well… If you love her so much, why don't you try harder? Why don't you, you know, go over there and tell her? Give her a piece of your mind. Go do...what Mark Sloan does. Go and be you and it'll work out. Get the job done, manwhore.

He almost smiles at this. Addison hasn't been an integral part of his life in years; she barely has any useful perspective. She simply acts as a vessel for who he used to be. The guy who took charge, spoke his mind, and didn't care what anyone thought. The guy who said what he was thinking no matter what the circumstances are. Mark feels a stab of nostalgia. He half wishes he could be that guy still. He wishes he could have all of that drive and self-assurance back. But she's taken it all. He can barely speak around her, let alone tell her what he's really thinking and feeling. It'd be too risky, too dangerous, to let her know it all. It wouldn't be worth the potential calamity that could arise from a move like that.

. . .

He knew what Callie would tell him. Look, Mark… I know you love her. I know that. You've told me. And you've told her. But… It's been months. It's been months and she hasn't said anything back. Maybe you should… Maybe you should just let go a bit. Maybe try looking for someone else. And before you say it, I know you and Teddy didn't work out. Well—just try again, try someone new. Dating is difficult. You don't just get the perfect person for you plunked right down in front of you. You have to search. But you'll find her, okay? You will. I just know it. You will.

He can even see that reassuring smile Callie specifically uses for conversations like these. She should label it the 'Mark wants Lexie back' smile, seeing as that's the only time it appears on her face anyway. Or the 'He's too hopeless for anyone to fix' smile. The 'Maybe if I humor him one more time he'll finally get it' smile. That knowing smile she has, when she believes she's able to see through him, read his thoughts, and know his heart.

But she doesn't know him. She likes to think she does, but she doesn't really. She doesn't know him anymore. He doesn't bother correcting her or trying to make her understand these days. She never will. She's Callie and he's Mark and though they're best friends and have a child together, that doesn't mean they understand each other on every single level. That doesn't mean they know each other's hearts.

But Lexie does.

And she was plunked right down in front of him. Contrary to what Callie would believe, the love of his life literally walked right into his existence by showing up at his hotel room all those years ago. He takes a breath, remembering a time when he could finish that sentence with 'and never walked out.' He remembers a time when he thought she'd never leave.

. . .

We're just fumbling through the gray

Trying to find our way down a road we don't know

Trying to find a heart that's not walking away

. . .

A few hours later, lying in his dark and half-empty bed, Mark can't stop thinking. He can't find the 'off' button for his brain, nor the 'on' button for sleep. He can't figure out a way to make the constant pain of knowing he's lost her forever go away. So he thinks back. He let his mind wander. When else had this happened? When else had he thought that someone he loved would be gone forever? A second later he cringes at the memories, remembering when Callie was closer to death than life… What had he done then?

The answer drifts into his mind, coming back to him slowly because it had been such a foreign practice: He'd prayed. He'd sat with Arizona and he'd prayed that the woman they both loved, laid out on the table below them, wouldn't die.

He blinks at the idea. He hadn't been raised by religious parents, hadn't grown up with religion. He hadn't grown into it either. It had never been a part of his life expect in dire life-or-death situations.

Considering he felt like dying himself, though, and considering things seemed to be almost as bad as when Callie had been on that table for hours at a time… He prays. He closed his eyes and tries to focus all his willpower and thought into one simple wish.

"I don't want to lose her," he whispers hoarsely, wondering if prayers are amplified with voice over thought. He'd prayed silently for Callie, and that worked, hadn't it? Maybe speaking his pleas aloud would gain him some sort of advantage. A few extra points. If so, Mark thinks, I should join a congregation. They have prayers for the less fortunate, right, and everyone joins in? A few hundred voices and thoughts would help his cause, wouldn't they? Hundreds of others would amplify the message a hell of a lot stronger than he ever could on his own.

And if the guy sitting up in the clouds could create a planet and all its inhabitants in a week, he could do this too, couldn't he? It couldn't be that hard. It was simple, uncomplicated request. It was a problem with an easy solution. He just wanted her back. He just wanted to know she wasn't really gone forever, hidden away in someone else's arms. He'd do anything, anything at all, if his wishes could be appeased. He'd do anything anyone wanted from him if it meant he could be with her. He'd wait for her like she waited for him if it meant she was back, if it meant that she loved him and wanted to be with him.

He closes his eyes, feeling his faith leak out, encased within the tears on his face. No matter. He'll still try. He won't give up. Blood, sweat, and tears are the ingredients, right?

"Please, God, don't let me lose her." He squeezes his eyes tight, knowing he'll have to try harder next time. His broken voice is gravelly and barely audible. He'll have to be louder next time. "Don't let me let go of her, or let her get away. Don't let us give up on each other. Please, God, don't let us give up."

. . .

Trying to believe in your silent own way

Cause we'll be okay, I'm not going away

And I'm gonna find my way

Back to your side

I'm gonna find my way

Back to your side

. . .

A/N: Please review. I would love to know what you all think.