𝙇𝙄𝙄.
SOME KIND OF DEATH

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tw: gun violence, death, a lot of angsty stuff

 this is a very overwhelming chapter pls take care

It was going to be a good day.

Lexie Grey had woken up this morning, ate cornflakes and washed her hair. She'd been woken up by her pager but she still fell into her routine. 

She'd stared at herself in the mirror and given herself the same pep talk that she gave herself every day: today was going to be a good day, it was going to be productive and it was going to be good. It was an easy mantra, but not always convincing. 

There was something weird about today, she discovered as she grabbed her lab coat and dashed into the hospital. Today felt strange.

For a day to be good, Lexie knew that it had to be interesting. There had to be patients and there had to be only a tiny percentage of sadness. After all, a hospital was full of sadness, but her job was to minimise it to the best of her ability. She had to make good out of bad. 

Lexie had to spin a bad situation into one that would make people happy, that was what made her whole job worth it. She woke up that morning determined to have a good day— but sometimes, not everything goes to plan.

"Is he dead?"

The woman was unnerved, panicking on the spot as she fought to look over a nurses' shoulder. Lexie could hear her from five beds away, raising her head and glancing over towards the commotion. She had a little girl that had appendicitis, a child in tears and two anxious parents beside her and yet, the woman had her full attention.

The first case had been a man who'd come in from an ambulance. It was the woman's husband. Shot, he'd said, shot by a man who drove into him and then shot him point-blank. 

No rhyme or reason. A senseless violence. It had made Lexie deeply uncomfortable. 

His wife was crying, begging to see her husband, begging Owen and Teddy to save his life— Lexie winced at the thought of being at the end of a gun.

Senseless violence sent shivers down her spine. Bullets. 

They could inflict too much damage. A split-second decision could be so harmful. They ricocheted through bodies and cut vessels, skin and bone and muscle and tore people up from the inside. Such a small projectile could cause so much damage.

This guy had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Lexie had had to remind herself that stuff like that happened. Sometimes people just got hurt real bad and sometimes it didn't happen for any particular reason.

She'd left the ER with an awful feeling in her chest. It crept up on her very slowly, following her every footstep as she walked through the department and up towards the surgical

It was something that she tried her best to shrug off: Today's going to be a good day. It's going to be a good day.

And it was-- well, until people started dying.

Lexie didn't know when people started dying.

Hospitals were built for that, she guessed. These long empty hallways were built for the smell of death. These lights were a little too bright and these doors were a little too snug. 

They were built for saving lives but they were also built for managing the lives they couldn't help— Lexie hadn't really given it much thought until that day. She walked across that hospital, completely oblivious to the chaos that was unfolding around her.

Why didn't she hear it when Reed Adamson was shot in a supply closet? She thought that gunfire was supposed to be loud.

Why didn't she hear it when her boyfriend was shot? She was on the same floor.

She was five doors down, going into the staff stairwell when Reed died. She was not far away when Alex Karev was shot. She was close, too close for comfort. She hadn't noticed when he'd hauled himself into an elevator, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

Why didn't she hear it? Why didn't she notice it?

Lexie was utterly oblivious— and she wasn't alone.

No one heard the first gunshots.

She came back into the ER after booking an OR for Arizona's patient. It was a nice centre to the universe she'd built for herself. Last night, she'd roughed it in an on-call room and this morning she'd been roused by her pager. 

She found Arizona and she gravitated around the little girl with the tears on her cheeks and the ruptured appendix. As Lexie tried to cheer up the patient, she simultaneously managed to pull herself back into a positive mood.

This was a good day and if it didn't want to be one, she'd make it into one.

It was a normal, good day.

They'd already had a death in the ER this morning. Lexie didn't want to think about it. She'd watched them wheel him out on a gurney, watched the family member or close friend sob as one of the doctors offered an empathetic hand. 

Lexie didn't like it when patients died, it left her with a lump in her throat that would never go away. She'd had to watch as Daphne, the head ER nurse, paged Psychiatry for someone to hold the family member's hand.

She'd looked away when Elizabeth Montgomery answered the call.

Beth always appeared the same way: the click of heels through the ER and a breathtaking smile. It was something that Lexie found so obnoxious even though she knew that her aggravations towards the psychiatrist were something that would probably push feminism back a couple of centuries. 

She'd appear and she'd offer that winning, tender smile and talk to the person who was suffering so intensely and then, like a magic touch, they'd be fine. Lexie ground her teeth and looked back towards the ill girl that Arizona had left her to look after.

She didn't have a magic touch like Beth.

The psychiatrist was leaning against the nurses' station, singing off a consultation on a chart and grinning as she spoke to a nurse. Her head was bowed as she scribbled away, ticking boxes and dotting 'i's'. 

She was doing it so elegantly and gracefully and she reminded Lexie so much of her older sister. She was charismatic and engaging and the nurse seemed to be completely delighted by their conversation. They were joking about something, Beth laughed. 

She was having a good day. She'd been having them a lot lately.

But, then her eyes rose and she noticed Lexie out of the corner of her peripheral. Beth frowned slightly. A mood died, rapport seemed to shift. It was the same subtle shift that had dimmed Lexie's mood— Lexie noticed that happened a lot with Beth now, ever since Lexie had confronted her over their mutual ex. 

Ex, Lexie had to remind herself, exhaling and averting her eyes. 

There was no point for bad blood to spoil over a guy she couldn't afford to care about.

She'd gotten good at ignoring Beth. Beth had gotten good at ignoring her. It was like an unspoken treaty between them. It was easier than small talk than Beth pretending that she wasn't still reeling over what Lexie had said to her. It wasn't often that they caught each other staring, although they were both aware of it. 

But Beth's stare was different to hers, it was more of a challenge as if she was constantly waiting for Lexie to say something else, to find another skeleton in her closet to shake for the hell of it. Lexie's was more demure as if she was constantly wary of the woman on the other side of the room— Lexie didn't like meeting Beth's eye.

If Beth got close enough, Lexie found herself feeling bad about what she'd said. She sucked on her tongue and squared her shoulders, all too aware of the fact that Beth was walking past her. Lexie couldn't afford to feel bad. 

Blatantly, Beth ignored her as she passed, a noticeable muscle jumping in her jaw. Lexie turned away quickly, face flushing and eyes flying to the passing gurney— Owen and Teddy were wheeling the gunshot patient up to the OR, a lot of fast-talking and hasty gestures.

She glanced up at the clock. It was 11:00AM. She hadn't even made a dent in her shift and she was wondering whether this good day had already gone bad.

At 11:15AM. The hospital announced a widespread lockdown.

Immediately, everyone in the department stilled. The announcement echoed around them, clashing with the sudden silence. Confusion, bewilderment, Lexie looked around at all of the beds, all of the faces. Everyone looked momentarily startled— heads turned to look towards Daphne as she was the only authority still in the pit.

 Owen was long gone now. Daphne opened her mouth and then closed it. Even she looked caught off guard. None of them had ever seen her so speechless.

Eventually, she turned towards the ER technicians and a paramedic who was on their way out. She jerked her head towards the ambulance bay. "Close the doors."

Close the doors? Lexie hadn't ever seen them close their ER doors. 

A few of the trauma nurses all took a few moments to manually push the doors together, locking them inside the department. She watched them click, the sound loud and almost chilling. She looked over at Arizona, who appeared perfectly at ease. 

The ER hummed back to life and staff continued, completely unperturbed by the sudden break in their day. She frowned as the world just continued turning.

"What do they mean by lockdown?" Lexie asked the blonde surgeon as Arizona organised a transfer up into their department. She just shrugged in response.

"We're not taking in any patients," Arizona appeared nonchalant. 

She even shrugged. Lexie didn't feel nonchalant. Something was wrong, she could feel it. 

"Probably a drill or possibly a lost Psych patient like the one a few weeks ago— in the meantime, we've got to get this tiny human up into the department." Arizona turned to the kid, giving her a friendly smile with sparkles in her eyes. "Don't you worry-- We'll get you all cosy in a bed and then get you prepped for your surgery—"

Another disruption.

Lexie had learnt to anticipate them in a hospital. 

It wasn't uncommon in such a busy place. But this felt sudden, it felt chilling— it rattled the unknown anticipation that Lexie felt in her bones. She jolted, as if in alarm. Someone was yelling. Someone was screaming— immediately everyone turned to watch a woman sprint through the department.

It was a brash sound. Despite how busy it was, this woman was so loud and so despaired. Surgeons stopped in their tracks as the woman came barrelling past. She had tears running down her cheeks and mascara painting her skin. 

At first, no one seemed to know what to do.

Beth was the only person who approached her. Lexie saw Beth take a few paces towards her, hand outstretched as if she was approaching a startled animal. The woman had pure fear plastered over her face. Her whole body was trembling. 

Her eyes were wide and she clutched her jacket to herself. Then Beth placed a hand on her shoulder and told her to take a breath— the woman swelled with the effort of it and then cried.

The woman sobbed, "I can't find my son— I lost him upstairs and now security won't let me upstairs to find him—"

Security was busy. Daphne was on the phone with them, finding out everything about this lockdown. She was scribbling on a piece of paper, fast and quick. No one in. No one out. Possible shooter. Doctor dead. Her head was bowed, eyes slightly wide with the fear of what she was being told. 

One of the nurses, Eli, watched from afar, distracted by the unfamiliar look of urgency in her face.

He'd never seen her scared before. But, by the time she'd received all the order to shut down the department, people were already beginning to leave.

Beth volunteered to go upstairs to find the missing child. Lexie watched as she rubbed the woman's arm, asking a nurse to find her a seat in the waiting room. Maybe this was the missing child Arizona had spoken about.

She dismissed the mother's grateful smile and turned towards the nurse she'd been talking to before. Lexie overheard him remind her that she had an appointment in ten minutes— Beth cracked a slightly crooked grin.

"Well, it won't be the first time I've run late, huh?"

The nurse who Lexie vaguely knew as Eli rolled his eyes, finally looking away from Daphne's hunched and tortured form.

"If you miss your date with lover boy..." He tsked, shaking his head at Beth as she smiled fondly, "I swear to god I'll drag you through down the street myself."

"Over my dead body you will," Beth retorted, rolling her eyes. It was a casual, passing comment but in retrospect, it made Lexie's skin crawl.

Lexie watched as she left. Even despite the loud volume of the pit, she could hear the click of Beth's heels. The psychiatrist looked at her as she passed but Lexie pretended to busy herself with gauze. They never met eyes, only seemed to miss each other by a few seconds.

Lexie felt her face burn with the pressure of distaste inside her.

Beth was watching her, she seemed to do that a lot— it'd been the same since Lexie had confronted her, struggled to express the heartbroken storm that lingered at the back of her head. Lexie kept her head down. She'd long given up deciding whether it was out of regret or sheer repulsion. But, either way, she didn't like Beth Montgomery anymore.

Lexie had no doubts that the woman despised her. She had every reason to. But, Lexie had reason to dislike her too.

"I need you to get Sloan's signature on these forms," Arizona was handing her papers before Lexie could even comprehend what was going on. Her eyes bounced from the state of papers to the elevator Beth had just entered. Arizona saw the look on the doctor's face and sighed. "Or if you'd rather—"

Lexie shook her head. "No, uh, I'm on it."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the elevator doors very slowly close.

Yeah, Lexie thought to herself, I'll take the stairs.

***

There was a man standing in the elevator.

He was stood at the back, tall and foreboding, almost like a storm cloud. 

Beth didn't pay much attention to him, just stood at the front of the elevator and watched the floor counter rise as they steadily went upwards without interruption. 

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, she dropped her eyes to the text message she'd received; a message from Charlie, telling her to have a good day. She smiled.

The door opened: Cristina stepped inside. The two doctors exchanged a brief smile. Cristina shot a glance at the man stood behind Beth but didn't pay much attention. 

She exhaled tiredly and joined the dismal staring at the floor counter, a slight look of sadness on her face.

Behind them, the man stirred.

"Excuse me," He sounded quiet, but the sort of quiet that you could hear in the middle of a busy ER. "Could either of you tell me where to find the Chief?"

Cristina twisted her head towards him. Her eyebrows rose, abruptly startled by the intensity of him. He didn't meet her eye, just stared into the elevator door. He had one of those stares that could melt steel. 

Beth seemed to show no indication that she'd heard him, just continued to smile hazily at her phone. Cristina glanced very briefly at the screen before answering.

"Dr Shepherd?" Cristina asked. The man inclined his head in a half nod. She let out a breath she didn't even realise she was holding. "He's, uh, probably in his office."

"Yeah, I've been to his office before," A dry chuckle and he shook his head at his own misfortune. "I can't seem to remember how to get there. I keep going in circles."

His chuckle didn't feel right in the atmosphere.

"It's in the east wing," Cristina's voice caught at the back of her throat. She looked back at Beth, who seemed completely distracted by the text conversation she was having. The time at the top of her phone read 11:18AM. Cristina should've been doing Teddy's Post-Ops by now, she let out a sigh through her nose. "That's, uh, over by the labs and across the catwalk."

"Sorry?" The man seemed completely distracted. 

After a brief moment, glancing between Beth and the stranger, Cristina realised that he'd been staring at the back of the psychiatrists head, not the door. 

"That's—"

"You just gotta cross through the patient floor on three," Beth's voice rose tenderly. 

Beside her, the cardiothoracic surgeon almost flinched. Beth's voice was clandestine, clear and a little too plastic for the sudden tension. Beth very briefly looked over her shoulder, flashing the visitor a perfect smile. The flash of white teeth did nothing to settle the rising tide. Cristina was silent, a feeling of unease filling her chest.

   "And then follow the signs to the main lobby, And then you should find it no problem."

A brief pause. 

For some reason, Cristina didn't like it.

"Thank you," replied the man. His voice was low, almost a vibration.

"No problem," said Beth, her bright tone not matching the atmosphere.

The door opened on Beth's floor, the third floor, the same floor as the man. They exited at the same time. Cristina's parting smile to the psychiatrist was fleeting and slightly strained, Beth was oblivious and friendly. The two strangers parted in opposite directions. 

He glanced over his shoulder at her as she disappeared. She wouldn't remember his face. He wasn't remarkable. She'd meet hundreds of patients in this hospital and placing faces was never her strong suit. She wouldn't remember Gary Clark's face but he'd remember hers.

As soon as she left the elevator, they all received the page:

LOCKDOWN. DON'T MOVE. EMERGENCY.

Despite this, Beth persisted.

It was probably a drill, anyway.

***

"I miss you."

It wasn't a good day.

Mark was looking at her in that way, with those eyes that told her that he was being honest. She felt her stomach twist and her heart clench and her lips dip into a frown. He waited for her to say anything. There was apprehension in the way his head tilted to the side. 

His eyes searched her face. She didn't like the expression on his face. She knew him well enough to know that there was hope and calculation in the way his lip quirked. His hand outstretched with the papers that she'd needed his signature for. 

When she didn't reply, Mark just placed his pen into his pocket and pretended as if nothing had happened.

Lexie's mouth opened and her mouth shut and she honestly didn't know what to say.

"Can you just sign the order?" 

Lexie was at a complete loss. She felt her skin crawl and she did not like the way he kept glancing over at in between every turn of his notes. She'd come all the way up into this department for him to look at her with those brilliant eyes. He pressed his lips together and exhaled through his teeth. 

Lexie sighed. "It's serious—"

"Lockdown," He said lightly. 

They'd all received the page. Lexie had grimaced at it in the staff stairwell, in the process of trying to continue with her good day. She'd passed a handful of technicians and overheard them talking about how this was all just a drill. 

"Kinda crazy, right," Mark commented, "Do you think that's serious?"

Lexie pressed her lips together. "Can you sign the order—"

"Is this thing with Karev serious?"

Mark wasn't looking at her. If he was, he would have seen the look of irritation on her face. She ground her teeth together.

"Mark-

"I miss you." He said it again. This time he was looking at her.

Lexie stared at him. She felt her breathing stall and her chest heave and that little voice at her head tell her that he meant it. 

She knew him well enough to know that he was being honest. They stared at each other, just two fractured humans gazing across a stack of auditory evaluation forms, having a brief moment in time. Lexie's head was hazy; today was not a good day. The feeling of building anticipation was heavier now as if she was close to a breaking point that she couldn't see or predict— she opened her mouth and then closed it. 

She fought to make a coherent sentence.

"Sign the papers, Mark."

He paused, mulling over the expression on her face. Lexie watched as Mark hesitated, but then, very slowly, he drew out his pen, set the papers on the top of the nurses' station, and signed on the dotted line. She let out a breath that she hadn't even realised she was holding. Her chest heaved slightly with the effort of calming herself down. 

She didn't like talking to Mark, just like she didn't like talking to Beth. Mark made her feel things she didn't like the feeling. Beth did the same, only on the other half of the spectrum. Lexie's brow crumpled as Mark held the papers out to her.

They lingered between the two of them. A no-mans land. Lexie, head heavy with his gaze and the flighty feeling that suddenly exploded in her chest, swallowed the lump in her throat. She accepted them. And then Mark opened his mouth to speak—

Lexie had never heard gunfire before.

It'd never crossed her mind that she ever would. 

It wasn't the sort of sound that you could anticipate. Loud, sudden, disruptive. A sound that came out of nowhere— just like the look in Mark's eyes as his head turned to look at her and he said I miss you in a way that was supposed to break her heart.

She'd never heard gunfire before but it happened right there.

Vivian, one of the nurses was talking to a man, talking to him about the current lockdown. Sir, you can't leave this area, the hospital is in— And then BANG. 

Lexie reeled from the sound of it, patients around them screamed. There was a moment where Vivian seemed to stall in mid-air. Her shoulders sagged, her eyes bugged and then she fell. 

There was a few shots: BANG BANG BANG. 

Lexie almost bit her own tongue— she watched as Vivian fell to the floor, scrubs growing damp with her own blood.

Lexie heard the gunshots this time. 

Was it something someone was supposed to be familiar with? Was it the sort of sound that you were supposed to recognise? She didn't know what it sounded like. She didn't know what she had to look out for— But then she did. 

She didn't recognise it at first. It reminded her of fireworks on the 4th of July when she was a little kid or the rain against a flat roof during thunderstorms. Heavy thudding, like angry footsteps demanding her attention— they echoed around her, sporadic bursts that surrounded her. 

She flinched at every movement.

She wasn't the only one. People started running. People started panicking. 

Suddenly the lockdown wasn't a drill. It was the look of panic on their faces. 

God, she'd never seen Mark so scared.

There was a man in the hospital. She knew him from before. He'd lost his wife a few weeks ago, he'd tried to sue the hospital, sue his wife's doctors because they'd pulled the plug on her DNR. 

She'd been one of the doctors, Lexie had watched the despair in his eyes as they turned the machines off one by one. She'd been in the room as the death took place— and now, the whole hospital was filled with the same feeling.

Bullets buried in colleagues, in friends— God, how was she supposed to know what gunfire sounded like? 

She didn't even know what a gun really looked like. 

She'd never seen one up close— she'd never even been around one when it fired. Her Mom had always hated them, her Dad had never bothered— Guns, guns in a hospital— 

Lexie felt dizzy when she thought about it.

"What sort of asshole brings a fucking gun into a hospital?"

Mark had said that as they'd sheltered, eyes wide and the breath caught in their chests. He'd shoved her to the floor, they'd gone down in a tumble of limbs and Lexie had used every muscle in her body to avoid crying. 

She'd quivered against her ex-boyfriend's chest, brain too scrambled in that moment to really make sense of anything. She'd taken sharp, short breaths against the floor and listened as Gary Clark left as quickly as he had appeared— he went quietly, suddenly the gunfire stopped and he was moving. He was prowling, like a predator ready to strike.

He'd shot Alex.

He'd shot Alex and then Alex appeared in front of them out of nowhere. 

The parting of the doors and been slow, cinematic— Lexie had had to hold something. She'd gripped Mark's arm so tightly. The blood had drained out of her face— Oh— Oh god the blood. 

The elevator doors, the same ones that she'd walked through countless times, opened and split Alex's blood across the floor.

The hospital finally shut down at 11:20AM. 

There was a third intercom announcement and Lexie was shoved into the boardroom. She couldn't catch her breath properly. There was this feeling in his chest, a constant pressure that felt like it was about to explode. She'd reached the climax of anticipation and her body couldn't come down—she stared at the door and looked around the room in despair. 

Mark had his hands on her boyfriend's chest and this look in his eye— he'd asked her to close all of the blinds.

She had, with trembling fingers and the feeling of vomit in the back of her throat.

"I grabbed everything I could—" 

Lexie couldn't look at Alex on the table. He was groaning, shifting, his face contorted in pain. Mark was slapping on plastic gloves with an urgency that left Lexie cold to the bone. She tossed all of the supplies she'd grabbed in a dazed rush. She couldn't look at either of them. 

"I grabbed everything—"

Another loud, guttural moan as Alex attempted to move on the table. She watched, across from Mark as the plastic surgeon loomed over him, attempting him to stop moving. 

Her eyes flickered between the two of them: here she was, in the middle of a lockdown, a crazy gunman outside the hospital and her ex-boyfriend covered in her current boyfriend's blood. 

Mark glanced up at her, mouth twisting.

"Alex, you've been shot," It was Mark's professional voice. 

Lexie tried to focus but she felt as if she couldn't get any air into her lungs.

"We have to get him out of here." It was not a good day. This is not a good day. "He could come back, Mark. We have to get him out of here."

But Mark wasn't listening. He ripped open Alex's scrubs, searching down the front of the surgical resident's chest. 

Her hands shook as she paced at the side of the table, trying her best to get gloves onto her quivering fingers. She kept sniffing, trying to keep herself from bursting into tears— Mark glanced at her, it seemed to be a timed reflex, constantly checking to make sure that Lexie was in one piece.

"There's no exit wound," Mark exhaled out of his nose in irritation. "We're going to have to flip him—"

"Mark—"

"Lexie, grab him under the shoulders—"

"We have to get him out of here— we have to get him out of here—"

"Lexie."

Her movements were fast, desperate. 

Her face was contorted, deeply lined with panic. Slowly, Mark lifted his head to look at her, his eyes softly following the way she seemed to crumble and fray at the edges. She was going through the supplies, her voice strangled as she fought to keep herself together. 

Ever so often, her doe eyes would fix on him and he'd see the tsunami that was powering through her.

She non-verbally answered his question from before. It was serious.

"He's losing a lot of blood," Mark's word's were calm. His demeanour was calm. For a moment, Lexie found that infuriating. They'd just been shot at. They'd just watch a nurse die in front of them— how the hell could anyone be calm? Mark's movements were slow, calculated. "We can't move him— now shut up and help—"

There was a slight rise in his voice and it kicked her into action. 

Something seemed to click. Lexie got onto her knees, hoisting herself up onto the desk and helped to push Alex onto his side. Her wince was audible, her face screwed up in pain as Alex yelled, jostled by the movement. Her eyes drew lines in his back, searching for the telltale exit wound.

"Nothing." Mark shook his head. "Ah, damn. The bullet's still in there somewhere—" He rolled Alex against the desk, barely phased by the exhales of a victim in pain. Lexie looked at him, brow furrowing and eyes watering. The plastic surgeon made a split-second decision. "We're going to have to wing it— start an IV— I'll set up a chest tube—"

She did as she was told. This, this was something she could do. Lexie could follow an attending's orders. She could do that and pretend that they weren't barricaded inside a room lined with windows. She could dive into the pile of supplies and look for the things they needed to save Alex's life. 

They swapped places as if they were part of a mechanism. Lexie took Mark's place beside Alex and she laid a hand on his cheek, pressing her lips together and swallowing hard. She traced her thumb over his cheekbone, biting into her bottom lip to hold back the tears.

"You're going to be okay, Alex—"

His eyes rolled to fix on her, his body twitching as he was overcome with pain.

"I'm gonna kick that guy's ass when I see him."

***

Beth had never walked through a silent hospital before.

Her footsteps echoed around her as she moved down the corridor. She was moving from room to room, head twisting as she peered through doors and tried handles. A lot of the rooms were locked. She couldn't get into any departments. 

Lights were turned off, in half of the places it seemed like no one was there. What rooms she could get into she checked briefly, searching for a hiding kid or someone who could at least remember a missing child.

But whenever she'd rejoin the hallway, the long corridor that seemed to span half the floor and go on for forever, she'd get struck by this feeling. It was almost eerie. So far, she hadn't seen anyone. 

It was as if she was walking through a deserted hospital, waltzing through some sort of second dimension where Seattle Grace Mercy West was dead to the touch. She took out her phone and checked the time.

It was 11:23AM. 

Usually, this whole corridor would be bustling. It was the artery of all hallways, the blood and heart of the surgical floor. Just down from here was the surgical reception, where hundreds of people crossed in and out of the elevators. She was not far from the boardroom either, from the secretaries offices and the nurses' break room. 

She was surrounded by rooms that, she knew, this morning had been occupied. Now all these rooms were locked, lights turned off and curtains drawn. It was as if no one was in there, or as if they'd been trying never hard to make it seem that way.

Beth didn't like walking through a silent hospital.

She didn't like silence. It made her feel weird, feel strange.

Is this what a lockdown meant? The only lockdown she'd experienced was the one a few weeks ago. Her patient had escaped from the Psychiatry department and hidden in the morgue. Then, there'd been people moving around, people who shot her bewildered glances as she sprinted the length of the hospital. 

She checked her pager again. 

It was telling her to stay where she was, telling her to stay still until told otherwise.

Well, I fucked that up. 

Beth thought to herself as she looked up and down the corridor.

Maybe the lockdown wasn't a drill like she'd thought. Maybe there was an emergency going on, one not associated with a missing invisible man or kid. Beth didn't know much about hospital codes anymore. She blamed her lack of hospital experience for that.

But, it didn't seem to matter anyway. It wasn't like anyone was around. She turned away from the surgical reception and started going in the opposite direction— if only she'd come across Vivian's corpse, she would have known— deciding to maybe retreat into the nurses' break room until things came back to life. 

She didn't like being in these empty corridors. The hospital felt too big, her echoes made her feel lonely— she'd never coped well with being lonely.

There was a man at the bottom of the corridor.

Beth turned the corner and failed to recognise him. 

His back was turned to her, but he heard her footsteps. She saw him move, saw his head turn towards her and her immediate feeling was a relief. It was like a boat seeing another boat in the middle of a wide sea— there was still a little bit of tension in her shoulders. God, this whole lockdown thing was making her feel weird. 

She placed her phone back into her pocket— the time flashed 11:25AM as it disappeared.

With a certain stilted grace, Gary Clark turned to face her and she tried to muster her most professional voice.

"Excuse me, sir."

She felt too loud for such a quiet place. Her skin prickled. In her pocket, her phone buzzed with a text message. Another sound. He seemed to stare at her. The man met her words with a blank, almost unnerving gaze. 

It was a weird gaze. It was strange. 

Beth barely blinked an eye. She was good at this: talking to people, she liked doing this, strange to her was her job. But the was a very brief moment in which she began to think that staying in the ER had been a good idea.

"This isn't a safe area... Sir, I'm really sorry but I'm going to have to ask you to leave..."

***

Mark was a good surgeon, she had to give him that.

He'd cut open the bullet entrance site in Alex's side. 

They'd prepped him professionally as if they were in an OR. He was working on getting to the bullet as Lexie sat on the top of the meeting desk. She was kneeling beside Alex, squeezing his hand so tightly that she'd never forgive herself if she let go. 

One of her hands, tinted with Alex's blood, cradled the back of his head as he tried to bit back the groans that threatened to explode through his lips.

"You're doing great, Alex. Really great." 

Mark was soothing as he looked up at Alex's tortured expression. Lexie couldn't take her eyes off of it. It reminded her of the taken aback look on Vivian's face as she'd been suspended between life and death. It'd taken a few seconds for her muscles to crumble and fall. 

"Now I need to put in a chest tube. You with me?" Alex made an incoherent noise. "Okay?"

"No," Alex grunted, "No chest tube— I'm okay— Don't cut me—"

Quietly, Mark turned away. "Lexie, you get the betadine ready and I'll do the rest, okay?"

She looked away, grabbing what was needed.

"Okay."

Their movements were precise, quick— before Alex could register what was happening, they were actively going against his wishes. The two uninjured surgeons prepped for the chest tube and slid it in, but the years of training they'd had could have never prepared them for the noise that escaped Alex's mouth. 

Without sedatives or painkillers, he could feel it all— his whole body flinched and he started yelping, yelling and crying out, taking long laboured breaths.

For the first time in the last ten minutes, Mark showed signs of panic. He shot a look over his shoulder, towards the door.

"Shut him up-" He whispered, eyes wide. Desperately, Lexie looked between the two of them, her heart tearing. Her eyes were round with alarm. "Shut him up!"

"Oh god," Lexie found herself staring at the walls. 

Walls that weren't walls. Walls that were windows. She knew that this boardroom was poorly soundproofed. Staff used this to their advantage when they needed some good, solid gossip. The only proof they needed was the intermittent sound of gunshots down the hallway, in the bowels of the hospital— Lexie loomed over her boyfriend, hands quickly flying to her lips. 

"Alex— Shush, shush—"

He yelled louder as Mark thrust the tube in deeper.

"Shut him up, Lexie," Mark said, urgency in his voice, "If that guy with the gun hears the screaming, he's gonna head this way. Now do something to shut him up."

Lexie didn't like guns.

She did her best to calm Alex down but it was to no avail— with the desperation that only seemed to be designated to this day, this bad, bad day, she ripped some gauze and pushed it into his mouth, muffling his cries. 

Mark continued to work onwards, trying, mercilessly, to stop the bleeding. 

The whole time, Lexie just stared down at Alex with sad eyes, muttering I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry quietly under her breath.

And then it was over, the test tube was in. 

She took the gauze out of his mouth and left her shoulders to sag as he just let out a low, deflated groan. They placed a pillow under his head and Lexie grabbed a stethoscope as Mark hung up the drip and made notes on the back of a binder they'd found underneath the television. She sighed, shaking her head.

"Dammit, He's losing a lot of blood," Mark mimicked the gesture, realising that the situation was worse than they thought. 

Lexie's hands shook as she pulled away from Alex, staring at his blood on his gloves. As her eyes grew unfocused, Mark hung his head. 

"He's going to need a blood transfusion— I don't know what we're gonna do."

A blood transfusion. It was funny to Lexie how that was so easy usually. 

In the OR, everything was so easy and yet she'd been so terrified at the thought of it for so long. Being a surgical intern, the idea of doing a blood transfusion in the OR was something that you worked up to. It was something that she was petrified about doing herself. 

In reality, it was straight forwards. She was beginning to realise how easy it was to save a life when you had the right tools— they didn't have the right tools.

Mark knew that. She knew that from the look on his face. Alex was going to die because they didn't have the right supplies.

Lexie swallowed her fear, "I'll go."

His head rose to look at her, but Lexie was staring at Alex. 

He was suffering, he was bleeding— he was losing a lot of blood. If she didn't do something, he'd be dying too. Today wasn't a good day, Lexie was convinced of that now. 

It was a bloodstained day and honestly, she was kind of fucking over it. Everyone was having a terrible day— but Lexie could try her best to make it better. She was going to make something good out of something bad: She was going to save Alex's life.

"I'll go get it." Her voice was small but her words were big.

"That's insane," Mark's voice was low. "I'll go."

She avoided his gaze. There was sadness and alarm on his face. It made her feel weird.

"No, I—" Lexie broke off. Shaking her head and gesturing down at her dying boyfriend. "I don't know what to do I— I don't—" She stopped before she started crying. "I'll go."

Mark didn't reply to her, just inclined his head and watched as Lexie said goodbye to Alex. He watched the two of them, watched how Lexie insisted that she'd be back soon. Mark had to look away for a few moments. The moment felt intimate. 

He wanted to go, he didn't want Lexie to go— and if he had? Would things outside have happened differently? Would he have stopped what was about to happen?

In retrospect, Mark wished he'd gone, that he'd stood his ground and make Lexie stay.

In retrospect, Lexie felt the same. As soon as she walked out of that door, she wished that she had stayed. The clock said that it was 11:28AM (it was dizzying to her that so much had happened in the last ten minutes). 

Under ten minutes ago, Gary Clark had walked into the surgical reception and killed Vivian and, as Lexie was discovering, everyone else who he had come across.

The corridor was strewn with the odd body. A crumpled form that Lexie couldn't allow herself to look at. She hadn't given the flooring at Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital much attention before. She couldn't remember the colour of it— now everything just looked red. 

She walked with slow steps, cautious and terrified steps. There was a supplies closet at the end of the hall, she knew that. Her hands shook as she grasped her staff key. Her skin crawled and her stomach twisted.

The corridors were empty. 

She found it spooky. Not in a charming way but in a horror movie way. It was silent. 

She could hear her every breath. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Lexie was completely convinced she could even hear her own muscles tremor. Her body was making up for everything the hospital lacked: noise, movement— life.

There was a security desk outside the closet, it was empty. Every door was locked and every blind was drawn. The nurses' station was ransacked and stranded. She walked for five minutes, each minute making perspiration brew on her skin. The further she got, the more it felt as though she was in an alternate reality. 

Everything was deserted. Everyone had run. There was a medical chart in a pool of blood. 

There was a ripped lab coat across a doorway. A light flickered ominously in the distance.

This wasn't a good day at all.

There was a person slumped beside the door of the supply closet and Lexie had to bite her cheek so she didn't cry— she opened the door and couldn't help but sigh in relief when she found exactly what she was looking for. She found a cart and piled everything she could fit onto it, aware that she needed to be as quick as possible. 

Lexie moved quickly, nimbly. Once she was finished, she couldn't help the regret that rose in her when she realised that she had to retrace her steps back into the boardroom.

She didn't even like the boardroom.

Suddenly, moving was a lot harder when you were pushing a heavy cart full of supplies. Lexie hadn't quite thought it through. 

She could barely get the door open, talk about walk silently across the surgical department. 

Her breathing was laboured as she entered the longest corridor in the hospital. She just had to make it down here— around this corner and—

Someone was talking.

Lexie stalled. 

It was as if her muscles had turned to lead. 

She knew that voice. 

She knew both those voices.

"I understand that you are sad and that you're grieving and that you never meant for any of this to happen-"

It was Beth, but Lexie almost didn't recognise it. Her voice was shaking. She'd gotten so accustomed to the sound of Beth Montgomery: Mark's ex and the charismatic put-together one who people called if they needed help, that she almost didn't recognise the fear. 

Her voice was shaking and she sounded scared. 

Scared. Lexie had always seen Beth so cool and collected, even when she'd been hit over the head by a schizophrenic patient. 

She'd forgotten that Beth was as human as the rest of them— 

That tremor in Lexie's hand, she could tell that Beth felt it too.

"I'm a psychiatrist, let's sit and talk, Mr Clark-- people don't have to die," Her voice caught slightly and Lexie took a few steps forwards, catching sight of Beth as she gently held up a hand.

 She couldn't see the shooter, but she knew that he was there, out of view. She knew he was there— just like Beth seemed to know that she was there too.

They'd gotten good at finding each other; knowing where the other was so they could avoid each other. But something Lexie wasn't good at was the horror that overcame her— her face was open book. Beth just glanced at her briefly. 

The expression in her eyes made the younger surgeon shudder. She'd never seen someone so turmoiled. Beth was stood in front of a gun, talking herself down and trying to convince this man to let her out alive.

Lexie was stuck, petrified to the spot.

They both heard the click as the safety was undone.

"You can't help me, Doctor." She recognised his voice. 

A tear rolled down Lexie's cheek. This was the man who had killed Vivian, who had left those bodies in the hallway, who had shot Alex. This was the man that Lexie had watched grieve over his wife. This was the man who had purged this hospital so relentlessly. 

This was the man who had ruined a perfectly good day.

This wasn't a good day.

Her day had been fine until Gary Clark had appeared in the surgical reception and opened fire. He'd done it so callously that Lexie had been struck by the look on his face. 

But then the world had spun, someone was grabbing her and shoving her to the floor, hiding her behind the nurses' station. It robbed the breath from her lungs and it was the first time she'd ever heard it: gunfire, quick and determined, flying with the intent to kill.

Now he was going to kill Elizabeth Montgomery-- right in front of her.

"You can't help me because everyone here- everyone here kills everyone else."

"I am not a surgeon." Beth was talking quietly. Lexie would've thought that she was perfectly calm if it wasn't for the wobble of her body. "I do not choose who lives and dies. I am a psychiatrist. I help people. I talk to them, I listen to them. I help people grieve, people like you. I do not work with the body, Mr Clark. I am a psychiatrist, I do not play God. I help people- and I-I can help you."

"I'm not crazy."

Lexie thought that you would have to be really crazy to start shooting doctors.

It was then that Beth made eye contact with her. It was subtle, it was brief and it was totally unexpected. She watched the psychiatrist fall apart slightly. She wasn't having a good day either. Beth knew that she wasn't going to be able to talk this man down. 

It was chilling how much she was able to convey in a split-second glance. Lexie was too horrified to even think about doing anything but gaping back at her.

Beth raised her hands higher. It was a sign of surrender. I'm no threat. Please don't shoot me.

"I never said that."

Her voice trembled. Everything about her trembled. 

How bizarre it was to contrast against the image in her head. For the past month, Lexie had seen her as someone strong and arrogant, foolish and selfish. 

She'd been the Other Woman. Beth had been Addison's sister, unable to be disassociated from the woman who had caused such a problem in her sister's love life. The competition that Lexie was so, so exhausted of trying to compete with. 

Beth infuriated her, everything about her made her want to turn and never look back— 

But now that Beth was crumbling. She was flailing and falling apart right in front of Lexie's eyes.

"I never planned to shoot those people." Lexie couldn't believe the man's words. "I had a plan. I-I- I planned to shoot Doctor Shepherd, the Chief- he murdered my wife. I shot him. A-And I want to shoot Doctor Webber. He was there- he didn't help me."

Derek. Lexie's sister's husband— Lexie couldn't comprehend what he was saying. Her mind was moving too fast. Tears were coming faster now. Her lip was trembling. Her body ached. How badly she wanted to just lie down on the floor and close her eyes and wake up. 

This was all a bad dream. 

She'd wake up, right? She'd close her eyes and Gary Clark would be a bad thought or a nightmare. That's how this worked, right?

Her mind was also joining the dots. Derek, Richard— there was one last doctor assigned to Gary Clark's wife.

"And there was another doctor," Lexie knew what he was going to say before he said it. This was what she'd been waiting for all day. "Doctor Grey."

It was weird to realise that you were going to die. Lexie had never had to think about to anymore. 

Standing there, listening to the hitch in Beth's breathing, the sudden silence that spanned in between them as Beth processed what was happening, Lexie realised that if Beth died today, the blood would be on her hands.

Lexie Grey's muscles moved without authorisation. Her face contorted in terror as she fought back a gasp of anguish. She slipped against the wall, hiding from view and allowing fully-fledged, unbridled fear to tear through her body. 

Beth was glancing over at her, probably coming to the realisation that this was all her fault 

(Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.) 

Momentarily, Lexie forgot how to breathe. 

Her chest was just moving. Her mouth was just gaping. 

Her body was moving but nothing was working.

 (Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.) 

She steadied herself by placing her back on the wall.

And then Beth started talking.

She started quietly. Lexie almost didn't hear her above the crisis she was having.

"My name is Dr Elizabeth Theodora Montgomery and I am a psychiatrist. My- uh- my birthday is the fourteenth of February and I am-uh 35 years old."

She was reciting it all as if it was something that she practised every day. Lexie could no longer see her face, but she was struck by the lack of emotion in her voice— it was as if Beth had given up, accepted the inevitable. 

The thought made her brain hurt and her knees tremble. She wondered whether this

"I do a lot of relief work- I have a fiancé and- I grew up in Connecticut-"

Her voice caught at the back of her throat and Lexie felt the sudden urge to cry harder.

"I have an older sister, she's called Addie." She was setting out her life, lying it all out on the table so Gary Clark knew exactly who she was. She was making it hard for him to forget her. She was fighting even though she'd lost the motivation to swing. "We fell out, um, I should really call her back-- but I have this older brother too... He's called Archer."

And then he roared.

"Where is Doctor Grey?" Mr Clark exclaimed in anger. Lexie barely caught the horrified yelp that fell through her mouth. She was right. Her nightmare was coming true: he was going to hunt her down and slaughter her and everyone else was just cannon fodder. "Where is she?"

Where is she? She's right here. Lexie could anticipate those words coming down from Beth's lips and leaving bullet holes in Lexie's chest. She had no reason not to anticipate them. 

Her shaky fingers let her edge towards the corner, set her terrified eyes on a rigid and unravelling Beth. She was looking at her— they were looking at each other. Beth pressed her lips together and Lexie watched her throat move from the very determined breath she took.

"I don't know."

I don't know. I don't know. 

The lie was delivered so believably that for a second, Lexie forgot who she was. 

Confusion, bewilderment, Lexie's hand flew up to her mouth and she pressed it to her mouth (shaking and trembling) with shock. 

Beth looked away, shaking her head unsteadily as she signed her death wish.

"I don't know-" Lexie had never seen someone beg for their life before. "Please- Mr Clark. I do not know the surgery timetable, I don't know where Doctor Grey is."

She needed to leave. Lexie needed to go— she turned back to her cart and walked even though her feet were too heavy to move. 

Her whole body felt like lead. Every movement felt exhausting and excruciating but Lexie willed herself to move. 

Move. Get Away. Go. Move. 

Somewhere, in a boardroom, her boyfriend was bleeding out. She needed to go— if she stayed, she was fairly sure that she would die. It was a flight or fight response that was triggered by the look on Beth's face. 

A subtle nod in the direction behind her.

Run. Get away. Now.

Beth was saving her life.

Moving got easier the further Lexie got from them. She was going to get back to the boardroom. She was going to get these supplies to Alex and then she was going to sit and cry all of this tension out of her. 

She could only hope that Gary Clark and her would not cross paths— if they did, she was convinced that she would not survive.

Survive. When had work turned into a game of survival?

Lexie couldn't stop the sobs that threatened to spill through her body. Her body crumpled under the weight of them. 

Slow, calculated steps as the cart made too much noise for her liking. She felt like a sitting duck, just waiting for Gary Clark to turn that corner and shoot her down. 

She kept glancing over her shoulder, back towards where Beth was out of sight.

Beth was going to be alright. Lexie convinced herself of this— she didn't know how Beth could not be alright. She couldn't afford to think that she wasn't okay. 

She knew that Beth was the sort of person that pulled through, that survive despite all of the odds against her— Gary Clark wasn't going to shoot Beth. She was going to talk him down. She was going to walk away and she was going to fine. 

It was going to be a good day for Elizabeth Montgomery— she was going to be good. 

She was going to walk away and go on that date that Eli had spoken about.

Lexie found it easier to breathe when she was convinced that Beth Montgomery would make it out unscathed. She found a way back to the boardroom, one that she hoped wouldn't put her in Gary Clark's path. 

She twisted through the corridor, putting as much distance between her and the shooter as possible. 

Tears were falling down her face but she was moving steadily, with determination— she was making good of a bad situation, she was surviving. 

Just like Beth would—

But then she heard it.

She couldn't not hear it.

It was a loud sound. It was immediate. It was ruthless.

The sound of a bullet firing. (Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.) The sound of the trigger being pulled. The sound of a flesh being torn. The sound of someone getting shot. It echoed. (Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.) It ran up and down the hallways like a jubilant child. It played around her, rang in her ears. It was loud. It was so fucking loud. It slapped her across the face and made her eyes water and throat sting.

Nothing could have prepared her for it. She let out an audible wince as it echoed around her. (Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.) She completely stopped in her tracks. (Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.) She fought back the bile that roused at the back of her throat. She didn't dare to turn around. (Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.) Her hands gripped the cart so tightly that she stared at the white precipices of her knuckles under her skin. (Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.) She closed her eyes, squeezed them shut, shoulders shaking as she began to cry.

One foot in the front of the other. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other— it didn't work. (Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.) She looked back over her shoulder, bracing herself to see Gary Clark, an ominous shadow at the end of the corridor. There was no one there.

Lexie choked on her own breath.

Beth.

She didn't feel like she was there anymore. 

She felt as though she was a disembodied voice, wafting through the halls of the hospital like a ghost. Lexie had never believed in a higher power or the supernatural or any sort of other presence— but something told her, as she willed her muscles to move, as she begged and pleaded, that Beth hadn't talked her way out of the gunfire.

One foot forwards. One foot in front of the other.

Slowly, Lexie began to move again but she was crying harder than she ever had before— harder than when her Mom had died— harder than when she'd had to walk away from Mark Sloan because she was not cut out to be a stepmother so young. 

But now she was walking away from the image that her brain had made for her, the thought of Elizabeth Montgomery crippled and bleeding on the floor.

It was a weird sensation, knowing that someone was dying behind you.

Lexie didn't know how to define it. Her body was a no mans land, caught between flight and fight. Her feet were propelling her forwards but her heart lingered. 

She felt stripped and raw. She had no energy. 

Her body was moving on its own accord. Her brain spun and wheeled, shaken up by the gunfire that still rang in her ears. 

Her lip trembled. Her feet stumbled slightly.

Elizabeth Montgomery crippled and bleeding on the floor.

And then Lexie did something no one anticipated.

She stopped. She turned. She ran.

***

The plastic surgeon had had everything under control, or so he'd thought.

With his sleeves rolled up past his elbow, his scrubs tousled and his ears piqued for the sound of oncoming footsteps, his attention was dedicated to his patient. 

Blood smothered his clothing, his face was slick with sweat but, with determination, he pressed tightly down onto the entrance wound, a wound identical to the many that were scattered throughout the occupants of Seattle Grace Mercy West.

He'd treated bullet wounds before, of course, he had, but there was something so sinister and shocking about Alex Karev lying on the conference table beneath him, minutes away from bleeding out into the varnished wood.

It was different- fuck, of course, it was different. Of course-- he'd been there to see Karev appear like something out of a fucking Stephen King movie through the doors of the elevator. 

There was nothing normal about today.

There was nothing normal about the way he'd had to body-slam his ex-girlfriend to the floor, sheltering her from an onslaught of bullets as a madman opened fire on hospital staff.

There was nothing normal about the fear that had pulsed through the room as he watched his colleagues- his fucking colleagues- get struck and scramble for cover.

There was nothing normal about the inhuman cry that had slipped out of Lexie's lips and the way he'd clutched her tightly to his chest as she shook like a startled animal-- then Karev had made his appearance and there'd been tears and the uncomfortable sting in his eye that he just couldn't get rid of no matter how many times he told himself to man up.

He wasn't having a very good day.

"Fuck." Mark Sloan fumed, for what must have been the tenth time in the last five minutes. It was an exhale of exhaustion, of fear, of stress and anger.

He was angry. Hell, he was livid. 

If he didn't know better, he would've been on the prowl right now, bent on hunting this shooter down and giving him a piece of his mind. But he couldn't, his sometimes not so reliable common sense was in full alert, and besides, he was practically cornered in this conference room. 

He could only think about good ideas, any bad ideas that threatened to make an appearance were very hastily shoved away to the back of his head.

His hand, pressed down on Karev's chest, was the only thing keeping the surgical resident from bleeding out and dying. That had been a good idea. 

He was currently keeping Alex Karev, singlehandedly, alive. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare down at his ex-girlfriend's new beau, wondering how the hell he'd gotten into this mess. He stared at Alex's face.

Smug bastard was all Mark could think. He'd never particularly liked Alex anyway.

"Hey Sloan," Alex had mumbled, eyes fixing onto him as the plastic surgeon sent a very quick text message. 

It was full of capital letters and his fingers had trembled as he'd typed. Mark had had to bite into his cheek to steady himself. 

He'd looked at Alex and been startled by the look of acceptance on Alex's face. 

"Try not to kill me," The resident croaked between bloody lips.

The statement had caused Mark's chest to ache.

A wet, empty chuckle. "I'm doing my best."

He'd once triaged a bullet wound on the street in Brooklyn. He'd come across a guy who was twenty minutes out from a paramedic. 

He'd been on a date. It'd been him and Beth, on their knees, trying their best to pack his chest with whatever they could get their hands on. She'd sterilised everything with a bottle of vodka they'd bought from a liquor store. 

They'd used linen, fabric from a store around a corner, Beth had ripped the bottom of her dress, he'd thrown a spare shirt that he had in his bag. 

They'd spent ten minutes fighting to save his life but the guy had lost too much blood— he'd died and Mark had just had to stare at the wobble on Beth's lip as she got to her feet, covered in his blood and trembling very slightly.

"M-Mark-"

Instantly, his shoulders relaxed, he let out a long breath-- there she was. Lexie Grey gently opened the door; Mark smiled despite himself, his head bowed so he could check Karev's pulse. His good ideas were going swimmingly-- He was still going reasonably well--

See, he did have it all under control.

Luckily, Alex wasn't bleeding out on a street corner in New York. He was bleeding out in a hospital. A hospital where they had

Lexie's voice shook slightly as she sluggishly propped open the door to the room, taking her time in the threshold. At first, Mark didn't think much of it. He was too caught up in the comfort that he and Lexie were fine. 

Alex was doing fine and they now, thanks to Lexie, also had all of the equipment they needed to keep Alex Karev in this stable condition. His grip didn't subside, not even when he heard the sound of something heavy thudding against the conference door.

His good ideas were just going amazingly today.

Mark Sloan heard the sound of Lexie's scrambled footsteps and strained for a few moments, seeking out the familiar sound of the supplies cart that she'd set out to retrieve. Instead, he heard the sound of a heavy object being dragged across the hospital floor. 

His brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter a word, he made the mistake of glancing up at Lexie.

"Little Grey-"

He was instantly pulled back to the memory of the merger, the stressful weeks that had caused the staff to be sloppy.

 Lexie had had an incident then, tripped and drenched herself in blood-- but something about this sight told him that this time it was different.

Of course, it was fucking different.

She was holding back tears, her chin wobbling as she met his gaze. 

It reminded him of how Beth had looked that day. She'd had blood all over her knees and her arms and she'd been dressed so nicely— they'd just wanted to go to a liquor store on the way back from a hole-in-the-wall restaurant he'd found. 

She'd taken a long breath, stared at her hands and then she'd had to turn away as if she couldn't just stand there with a dead patient at her feet. Mark had been lost for words, he hadn't known what to do— but then the paramedics turned up and they took the dead away and he'd laid a bloodstained hand on her shoulder. 

She'd cried.

There was something so heartbreaking about what was in front of him in this exact moment. Lexie was covered in blood, just as she had when she'd tripped and fallen during the merger. 

It was centred around her arms, crawling up her forearms like monstrous tendrils, staining her torso and even smudged around her jawbone.

Just from a few moments of gazing and the heavy shift that threatened to break Mark's world, he could tell that it was taking everything within her to keep her sanity together. Her little body was wavering. Her eyes were watering at her chest was shaking. She was taking long breaths through her nose. If she opened her mouth, she would sob.

His mouth went dry. "L-Lexie-"

Mark didn't know what he'd do if Lexie was shot. 

It surpassed his mind that she was still walking. As if in pain, Lexie squeezed her eyes closed, her hands clenching into fists in front of her as she shook her head, swallowing her sobs.

"It's not mine- I-I am— I am fine- I-I-"

The relief was imminent. He found himself staring at the sheet she had clutched in her hand. It was a sheet from one of the rooms. It'd been torn. 

It reminded him of the way Beth had torn her dress so quickly and without hesitation. It was tight in Lexie's wobbling hand and it was red-- a vibrant blood red.

She was almost not able to string words together, did so with a sloppy incoherence that made his chest grow extremely tight. He was reminded of all of those times he'd faced a drunk disorderly mess that had been unable to recite her name, never-mind recognise him, all because of a deadly cocktail she'd willingly pumped into her veins. 

But this was different- this was Lexie and she was petrified, caught like an ant in a shot glass, startled and overwhelmed.

He wanted to hug her, clutching her tightly to his chest. He couldn't. He had his hands buried inside her boyfriend.

"W-Well- I'm not fine," She cleared her throat and another round of tears fell, "I-I saw it happen-"

She was holding the sheet desperately as if it was the only thing that was stopping herself from splintering into a hundred pieces.

Her hands tremored, but much like Mark, she dared not let go. Wordlessly, she turned around and yanked on the bloodstained cloth, with a hesitant and careful determination that reminded Mark much of his own. 

Mark stood, frozen, his head spinning as he watched her. 

She worked quickly, struggled a few times, but managed to get whatever- whomever- it was through the door.

He dropped his head, squeezing his eyes tightly to restrain the tears that threatened to fall. He couldn't be emotional now. They were surgeons, they couldn't get emotional in these moments, they had to be focused, impartial and dedicated to the matter at hand. 

Even if they were sheltering in a room of windows, with blinds drawn tightly around them, sitting like easy prey for the shooter to pick off for his fancy.

He'd never liked the boardroom. It stank of corporate bullshit. Whenever he stood in here all he could think about was the look on Beth's face as Petunia Vanderbilt fucked them all over simultaneously and with vigour-- fuck that woman, fuck this asshole shooter and fuck this whole fucking fuck of a fucking hospital--

For a moment, Mark wondered how Owen Hunt could do it- the surgeon had worked in the midst of war and had had to work on his comrades, his friends. Despite not considering Karev a friend in the slightest, Mark still found it horrific to have the young surgeon's blood staining his fingers.

There was a wave of silence as Lexie stooped down. He couldn't see what was happening, the bottom half of the door was cut off by the end of the table, the most he could see was the back of her head as she crouched over her patient. 

He could hear her heavy breathing, her mumbles as she said "Come on, come on, come on," to herself in dizzying repetitive gasps. Suddenly, she fell silent and Mark felt his own breaths stall in anticipation.

"I-I found a p-pulse-"

"T-That's great." Mark cursed himself as he voice wobbled precariously, betraying his nerves. "H-How bad is it?"

If he tried hard enough, he could imagine that he was in some triage unit. He wasn't in the boardroom, he wasn't pressing down on Alex's body and Alex's blood wasn't staining the large conference desk. 

But then Lexie's head would shake out of the corner of his eye and he'd be reminded that this was some shitty fucking situation that really fucking sucked--

"I-I can't tell-" Her voice was strangled, hushed. 

They could both tell that she was on the verge of sobs, each word finishing with long gasps as she fought to keep herself calm. Lexie's head turned around and he was struck by the pure torture and panic that was writhing in her eyes. 

"I think- I-I think i-it's bad Mark."

It must have been bad. 

Lexie had initially refused to leave his side; she'd sobbed and laboured over Karev's ill state and had been reluctant to leave Mark alone with him. Yet now, she was on the opposite side of the room, barely fazed by the sight of Mark over her boyfriend's unconscious body. 

Uncomfortably, Mark swallowed: He didn't like this.

Something told him there was something, particularly terrible happening. Something somewhat worse than what he knew was going on-- something that Lexie wasn't telling him. He could see it in her dark, doe eyes. What he'd initially thought was unadulterated fear was something different- something that made his heartbeat pick up and dread boil under his skin.

She looked sad, worried. Scared. Deeply turmoiled. 

It was the same look she'd had when they'd had a gun pointed at them and they'd all, for that split moment, thought about dying.

"Lexie," his voice was suddenly very calm, raw, unfiltered. "Who is it?"

Lexie looked away as she recognised the wariness, the fear, the whirl of emotions that passed over his face.

"I-I saw it-t happen," She took in a deep breath, blatantly ignoring his question as she began to descend on her patient, examining them with impressive expertise. But Mark didn't care-- his breathing picked up as she skirted the subject. He grew antsy. "A-And she was just l-lying there on the fl-floor-- an-and I j-just-- I j-just thought-t she was d-dead-- sh-she's bleed-ding so much--"

"L-Lexie-"

His throat constricted. 

Whoever it was, whoever she was, he still couldn't see them. Despite the tears that gradually trekked their way down her cheeks, she successfully assessed the person she'd watched get shot and torn apart. Mark bit down on his tongue as he checked Karev's pulse once again-- he might not have been able to see who it was, but he definitely had seen the blood.

And fucking hell, there was a lot of it.

"H-He shot her at p-point-blank- h-how could anyone d-do that?"

"Lexie..."

"S-she looks dead- sh-she looks like sh-she's dead-"

The sound Lexie made was barely human.

"Lexie-"

"M-My god- h-her chest-- i-it's-"

He lost his patience.

"Goddammit!"

The room fell silent. Lexie froze. 

Breathing hard, she bowed her head, almost in shame. A foreboding chill ran down his spine. Everything within his being told him to release his grip on Karev's chest and walk forwards. His sometimes unreliable common sense told him to walk towards her, the woman that Lexie Grey had pulled through that door.

His exclamation was loud, stupid. It was risky to make such a noise. They'd been talking in whispers, communicating in harsh breaths that ricocheted like a distorted tennis match. Back and forth. Back and forth.

But Mark Sloan didn't have time to play games.

"Who is she?"

"She s-saved my life." In the face of impending chaos, Lexie appeared to collect herself. She inhaled sharply through her nose, her eyes refusing to meet his. He swore quietly to himself as his temper threatened to make itself known once again. "She looked that man in the eye-- a-and if it wasn't for h-her- I'd be dead."

Finally, Lexie looked up at him.

"Lexie- please--"

He sounded vulnerable at that moment. He was practically begging her. It reminded him of how he'd sat her down and told her that Elizabeth Montgomery had left a big mark on him, how he was scared to love again and that for a long time, he'd thought that he would never find anyone to replace her. 

He hated the feeling that it left. The way his eyes burned slightly.

He didn't beg. Not usually. But there was something not so right-- she was staring at him, but her eyes seemed to stare straight through him. It was as if she could not comprehend a single word that tumbled through her lips. She had this sad look on her face. 

He didn't like it.

He knew it was a bad idea to ask.

Why wouldn't she tell him who it was? Why won't she tell him? What was so painful about this that Lexie couldn't say one tiny name?

There were thousands of people in this hospital. Colleagues, friends, acquaintances, patients-- they were in the surgical floor so that narrowed the pool down to a handful of friends. His intimate friends. 

People like Derek and Callie and Arizona, people who Lexie savoured like Meredith and--

Mark didn't have time for this-- a woman could be dying, Karev could be dying, as could maybe a hundred other people in this hospital-- 

"Goddammit- Dr. Grey who the fuck is the patient!?"

He snapped and that seemed to break her. A long sob fell through Lexie Grey's lips and her hand snapped up to clutch at her mouth.

There were so many possibilities of who it was on that floor, slowly bleeding out into the carpet. The hospital was strewn with casualties. Some would survive. Some wouldn't. Everyone from scrub nurses to security guards, surgeons to general practitioners, psychiatrists to hospital patients and the family and friends that accompanied them. 

There must have been a thousand possibilities.

Mark just hoped that it wasn't one of the few people- one of the limited group that he didn't think he could live without.

"Mark- I-"

She didn't want to tell him, fuck, who would? 

(Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.)

But there was something about the look in his eye, the soft, turmoiled look that was so similar but so different to the look that had made her fall in love with him. 

There was something about it that told her that he'd be able to cope with it, be able to shoulder the burden of what she'd seen, what had happened just a few paces in front of her as she'd hid like a coward.

"It- It's-"

Mark inhaled sharply.

"It's Beth."

His exhale was choked.

He'd hoped it would be someone different.