CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN
something's gotta give.
season seven, episode eight.

          "I CAN'T BELIEVE SHE BROKE UP WITH ME."

Mark put his head in his hands, a longing sigh escaping through his downturned lips. His breakfast had gone uneaten, his hot coffee turned lukewarm, and yet, nothing had changed since he'd woken up in a cold sweat hours before.

"Yeah, it's crazy."

There was a scoff, a pair of eyeballs practically rolling to the back of their owner's head, and another sigh. "Crazy? It's inexcusable, is what it is! How could she do this to me? How could she possibly leave me all alone?"

Lifting his head from his hands, Mark gave the person across from him a tired look, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed.

"Cass, Robbins went to Africa. She's not dead."

Cassie scoffed again.

Mark was pretty sure that if he heard that sound one more time, he'd have to remove himself from the situation. Lock himself in the bedroom with their cats, maybe. Take a long shower. Take a really long shower.

(I love her, he reminded himself. I love her, and she's definitely not driving me insane this morning. Not at all.)

"She offered to take me under her wing, and like, two seconds later she was all, oh, I won the Carter Madison Grant, just kidding! and then she—"

"—and then she left for Africa and left you and Karev alone to die, yes, we've been through this," Mark groaned, lifting up his coffee to take a sip before remembering that it was several hours old. "I love you, but I get it."

"Yeah, but no, here's the thing—"

Mark all but slammed the coffee cup onto the counter, some of the cool liquid splattering onto his hand. Cassie continued her rant, clearly not even noticing the sound, which gave him time to check his watch.

In doing so, he realized that he'd been listening to his fiancée whine for the past four hours. Since three in the morning. It was seven, now.

(Wait, it was seven already?)

"Babe—"

"—you think you know someone, you think you can trust someone, and then they surprise you in the worst way!"

"Okay, but honey—"

"And Mark, I swear to god, it's always the bad surprises with me. I never get the good surprises! Like, I don't know, a free kitten or something—"

"Didn't Addison give you Pumpkin—?"

"—oh, no, it always has to be a shooter in the hospital, or a secret family member, or a blonde getting cancer, or my favorite attending catching a flight across the world and leaving me—"

"Cassandra."

Cassie stopped talking, her mouth hanging open, as she had no intention of quitting until he said her full name.

Long-winded rant completely forgotten, she took note of the spilt coffee; eyes widening, she gently took Mark's hand in her own, brushing the liquid off with a spare towel.

"Oh, did you burn yourself? Are you okay?"

Mark blinked at her, removing the limb from her hold with his lips set in a straight line. "No, I made that in the middle of the night, when you woke me up, remember?"

Cassie paused, confusion subtly passing over her features. Turning to face the closed windows, seeing light peeking through around the edges, it seemed as if she only now realized how long she'd been speaking.

"Uh... what time is it?"

(Mark loved her so much. But he also loved sleep, and hot coffee, and being on time for work, and walking around without designer bags underneath his eyes.)

"Five-past-seven."

"Fuck."

"Yep."

All at once, they raced into their bedroom, narrowly avoiding stepping on the tails of their three cats.

Sure, they lived across the street from the hospital, but Mark and Cassie refused to look bad, even if it made them more tardy than they already were. By the time they left their shared apartment, it was seven-thirty on the dot, and they were officially an hour late.

(But hey, at least they looked good, right?)

The engaged couple entered through the back doors which opened up to the ER, as it was quicker to get to the locker rooms that way. But the second Mark saw the look on Meredith's face, the blonde sprinting up to Cassie with obvious urgency, he knew they'd be delayed even longer.

"Cristina quit."

Mark watched as Cassie's expression varied between bewilderment, anger, and disbelief, before finally settling on serious concern.

"Okay..." Cassie drawled, clearly startled by the fact that Meredith was finally speaking to her for the first time in over a week, "...is she dying?"

Meredith threw her arms up in frustration, some sort of pained grunt coming out of her mouth. "No. Yes. I don't know. But she quit, and bought a new apartment, and now she and Owen are having some house warming party, apparently."

Mark deduced that this was a lot of information for Cassie to handle at once. She still seemed to be processing the fact that the Cristina Yang quit her job.

Using her knuckles to rub the lack-of-sleep from her eyes, Cassie shook her head, confusion still evident on her features. Mark couldn't help but to find the action rather cute; it almost made him forget that he had several patients awaiting his arrival.

"Okay, so let's drag her ass back here."

Meredith ran a hand through her hair. "Well, we're not really... talking right now."

Cassie cocked a curious brow. "Why's that?"

"Yeah," Mark narrowed his eyes, far more invested in the drama than he'd care to admit. "Why's that?"

Meredith paused just as she opened her mouth to speak, briefly eying Mark before letting out a defeated sigh.

"She blames me. For the whole—for what she had to do to save Derek's life. She blames me, and now she's alone, jobless, traumatized, and shacking up with her stupid ginger husband."

Mark knew that Cassie, for her own piece of mind, never let herself think too hard about what happened with Derek, Jackson, Cristina, Owen, and Meredith in that OR.

Gary Clark had traumatized them all.

Lexie was admitted to the psych ward, Rue lost her uncle and subsequently was put on medication for her depression, Alex was terrified of elevators, Mark still flinched every time someone slammed the cupboard shut, and Cassie's panic attacks had been happening more frequently.

Besides, Cassie quit the literal second after George died, and in Mark's humble opinion, she came back to work long before she was ready.

(He didn't think she had any interest in being a hypocrite and telling Cristina to do the same.)

"Maybe she just needs some time to heal," his fiancée shrugged. "I think we should leave her be, for now. Let her know that we're here for her, but don't try to force anything, you know?"

Meredith rolled her eyes. "No."

Out of the corner of his eye, Mark noticed said stupid ginger husband making his way towards them, clearly having heard the majority of the conversation.

"Thank you, Harper," Owen interrupted. "Grey, I told you to stay out of it. Cristina is... I'm handling it."

He sent Cassie a look of gratitude, presumably for agreeing with him, but she decidedly ignored it.

Meredith's eyes narrowed into slits, her hands on her hips in a way that made Mark think she was about to yell, but no more words were exchanged on the subject.

Clearing his throat to ease the tension, Mark turned to face Owen with a bright grin.

"So... housewarming party, huh?"

With a light scoffed laugh, Owen nodded. "Yeah, it's, uh, tonight at eight... listen, as much as I'd love to chat, I have a packed ER and a resident who isn't even in scrubs yet, so..."

Cassie blinked, and Mark assumed she'd been spacing out since Owen arrived. Coming to the realization that he was referring to her, she glanced behind her, as if there was some other resident who happened to be late.

"Yeah, no. I'm on peds."

Owen frowned. "You've been on my service all week, Harper."

"Exactly, which is why I'm on peds today." Mark couldn't help but to admire Cassie, even when she was being a little bit of a bitch. In fact, he preferred her that way, a lot of the time; mean Cassie was hot. "I mean this in the nicest way possible, but being on trauma gives me trauma."

It was clear that Owen was already having a day, so to avoid making matters worse, Mark chipped in with, "To be fair, once when she was on your service, her best friend showed up in your ER dead, so..."

Cassie nodded, pointing at Mark as if he took the words right out of her mouth. "Yeah, that too."

He knew that she just wanted to suck up to the new peds attending, whoever they were, but Mark was more than happy to use it as another excuse to piss off the ginger.

(As judging by the way Cassie batted her eyelashes at him, she liked it when he was mean, too.)

Owen glanced between them, his eyes hardening just a fraction. "I don't care. Harper, go get changed, and get back here. Now."

Mark winced at the harsh order.

To be fair, trauma really wasn't that bad—usually—and she was being a bit dramatic, but he couldn't exactly blame her. He wouldn't want to spend the next ten hours with Owen, either.

He sent her a sad smile, which Cassie reluctantly returned, and whatever annoyance he'd felt that morning had washed away without him even realizing it.

But before Owen could get too far, Cassie called after him, a hand briefly going towards her stomach and a pained expression coming over her face. Out of instinct, Mark frowned, until she started to speak and he understood what she was playing at.

"Sorry, Owen, but I'm just really not feeling well, so..." Eyeing Meredith, Cassie raised a brow as if to say there's the resident you need, "I'm sure Mer would be happy to take my place. I should probably take a sick day, or... just do some charting. You know, so I don't spread my illness."

Meredith, who clearly assumed she'd been removed from the conversation at this point, immediately refused. "No, no, I'm with Derek—"

"Fine," Owen said with finality, although Mark couldn't help but to find it funny how easily he gave up. "I don't care. I just need someone, so... let's go, Grey."

Pausing to glare at Cassie before she left, Meredith reluctantly followed him. Once they were out of hearing distance, Mark scoffed a laugh, turning back to Cassie with nothing but pure adoration.

"Illness, huh?"

Cassie looked up at him, and it was then that he could see the devious glint behind her hazel eyes.

"It wasn't a total lie," she smiled, white teeth shining under the lights. "My cramps are god awful today. I feel like my uterus is trying to rip through my stomach and escape, like a weird little baby alien in my st—"

Mark cut her off with a chaste kiss on the lips to shut her up, something he'd been dying to do for hours.

"I'm an attending, you know," he said through a lowered voice, his hands delicately placed on her waist, "I could get you in trouble."

"Mm," Cassie hummed, slipping out of his grip and placing one last kiss to his knuckles, "I'd like to see you try."

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Cassie was absolutely sure her day couldn't get any worse.

Arizona left, Cristina quit, Meredith was being weird, her cramps were out of control, and now, she had a four-foot-tall stack of charts to go through before the end of the day, because apparently the new interns couldn't do anything right.

The pain in her stomach had her nearly doubling over several times throughout the day, in addition to a newly acquired headache, and the several ibuprofen she took didn't seem to help in the slightest.

Not only that, but Mark had left before lunch to go home and bake some extremely complicated—but admittedly tasty—casserole for Cristina and Owen's housewarming party.

So, she was miserable and alone.

Well, not completely alone.

"Ow!" Lexie winced, almost knocking Cassie backwards as they approached their lunch table. "Okay, since when is it okay to shoot people in this hospital?"

Entirely confused, Cassie's attention was drawn to Alex, who had some sort of toy gun loaded with ping-pong balls next to his food, which admittedly made her a bit nauseous at the sight.

Sure, it was lunchtime and she hadn't eaten breakfast, but with the way her stomach already felt, Cassie couldn't imagine adding any fuel to the fire.

(Still, Alex noticed the empty space in front of her and gave her his peeled orange.)

Rue, who immediately pulled Lexie to sit beside her, shook her head at Alex and began gently rubbing Lexie's arm where she'd been hit.

"Fucking Gary 2.0 over here."

"They never learn," Lexie added with a huff.

Just as she finished speaking, Jackson and April, who were on the opposite side of the table, were assaulted with ping-pong balls mid-conversation, not that Alex seemed to care in the slightest.

Lexie stole the toy gun from his hand with a scowl. "Okay, inappropriate."

"Very," Rue nodded in agreement, despite the fact that she quickly took the gun from her girlfriend's hand and shot Alex in the forehead.

Cassie flinched, ignoring the pain in her stomach enough to mumble a quiet, "Okay, no shooting people in the face, please."

They all kept talking, after that, but Cassie wasn't paying much attention. A sharp pain in her temple stole her attention; a migraine, probably, due to her hormones.

And then her stomach cramped, again, and quietly, she let out a hiss of pain. A rush of lightheadedness came over her, urging her to set her elbow on the table and rest her head in her hand.

Seemingly done with his hushed conversation, Jackson turned his attention back to the others, nudging Cassie's knee with his foot shortly thereafter. "Hey, you alright?"

The other occupants of the table turned to look at her as he asked the question, but she waved them off. "Mhm."

Narrowing her eyes, April questioned, "Are you sure? You're... you're turning all pale."

Alex picked up the orange he gave her and held it so close to her face that it nearly touched her nose. "Here, eat."

"I have cramps, Alex, I'm not dying."

(If anyone else noticed her words were slightly slurred, they didn't say anything, but the realization made Cassie's pulse race.)

"Eat the damn orange, Cass."

"No, no, I—"

Briefly squeezing her eyes shut as another wave of dizziness hit her, Cassie let out a grunt and got to her feet, ignoring the orange she refused to eat.

Something was up, but she held out hope that her uterus was just in a really bad mood. Her periods were never this bad, ever, but she chose to believe it nonetheless.

Suddenly, she got a chill, and assumed someone must have opened a window. Her eyes snapped shut almost as quickly as they opened, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why.

In her hazy peripheral vision, she spotted Jackson stand almost immediately after she did, and he may have been saying something, but the ringing in her ears made it hard to—

(Wait, since when had her ears been ringing?)

A voice cut through her internal panic, and faintly, she recognized her brother's voice saying a sharp, "Cassie, what's wrong?"

(What was wrong?)

"I—I don't—"

(She'd been fine just seconds ago.)

"Woah, okay," a woman's voice—Lexie—spoke next, her hand reaching to steady Cassie's body, which Cassie hadn't even noticed had begun to sway. "You should sit—"

"No," that was Jackson's voice again, "We should get her checked out—April, page Bailey—"

Alex's voice was next, "And Sloan."

Cassie still couldn't open her eyes, for some reason.

Maybe, because she was so tired from all the cramping and the headaches... or because it was bright in the... in the cafeteria... or... or maybe the... the...

The others were still talking to her, Cassie was sure, but she was so, so, so tired all of a sudden, and maybe it would be best if she just—

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The casserole was supposed to stay in the oven for another six minutes; and technically, it did, because Mark didn't have time to take it out.

Flipping the off switch and grabbing his phone was all he managed to do before sprinting out the front door.

CASS 911.

Two words on his pager.

Four letters, three numbers.

CASS 911.

Mark hoped to god it was some sick joke.

His feet carried him swiftly into the ER of Seattle Grace Mercy West, the same way he'd entered that morning with Cassie.

Cassie.

Mark couldn't see her. He'd been standing in the middle of the ER for more than five seconds and he couldn't see her. Not on any of the beds, not behind any curtains. So maybe it was a joke, a disgusting joke that should never have been made, or—

His eyes caught onto the board behind the desk, and very briefly, he could feel his heart stop.

Cassandra Harper — TR 1 — M. BAILEY

All of a sudden, he was running again.

The door the trauma room slammed open with a deafening thud, but only two pairs of eyes rose to meet his. The others didn't stop what they were doing, not even for a second.

"What the hell happened?"

Lexie took it upon herself to guide him back, allowing Bailey and Alex to continue their work, but the tears in her eyes did nothing to provide him comfort.

"She collapsed, but we don't—I don't know what's happening yet, but she—she just passed out, and—"

"They've got her," Jackson pitched in, though he sounded more as if he were trying to convince himself. "They can help, they'll—she'll be okay, okay?"

Mark was pretty sure he couldn't breathe.

"But what..." he trailed off, feeling the ever familiar sting in his eyes, "What happened?"

Lexie sniffled, shared a look with Jackson, wiped her eyes, and sniffled again. "I don't know."

The monitors behind the smallest Grey's caught his attention, beeping eratically and sounding far too similar to a funeral hymn for his comfort.

Everyone in the small room was yelling at him to back up, to give them room, but Mark couldn't stop himself from pushing between them all and reaching for Cassie's hand.

Her limp hand.

Mark ignored the people around him, and looked adamantly at her face, as if she'd disappear if he glanced away.

There wasn't any blood. There weren't any bruises, or jaundice, or anything. Which meant it was internal. Whatever was happening, was happening on the inside. No matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't be able to stitch her back together.

Cassie was hurt, and he couldn't fix it.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, in the way of all the people who were trying to help, but he was snapped back into consciousness when Alex pushed him a step back.

"Sloan, did you hear me?"

"What happened?"

He sounded like a broken record. But he couldn't care less, because the love of his life was unconscious on an exam table and no one knew what the fuck was even wrong with her.

From across the room, Bailey sighed. Mark tried not to think about how eerily silent she'd been since he arrived.

"Listen, Mark, we don't—" the woman paused, like she was having trouble getting her words out, "There's an obstruction in her abdomen, and that's all I know—look, I'm sorry, but we gotta take her up now."

"I—I don't—what am I supposed to—"

He blinked, and they'd already begun carting her towards the elevator. Lexie and Jackson followed quickly behind, and he partially heard Bailey yell something along the lines of uh-uh, you can stay in the gallery.

Mark watched the elevator doors close.

He didn't even get to say goodbye.

"What happened?"

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To put it politely, Mark Sloan was a disaster.

Lexie couldn't blame him, not at all. When Rue had been shot, she nearly shot herself just so her love wouldn't be in pain alone.

Cassie had been completely fine one minute, then incapacitated in Lexie's arms the next. For a split second, she'd genuinely thought her friend had died in her arms.

For the millionth time since it happened, she teared up at the thought.

That would be something Lexie couldn't survive.

But Cassie didn't die, and Lexie, April, Jackson, and Alex had gotten her to the ER at record speed. Bailey had jumped straight to work, as if it was routine for her to see the resident in such a state; she had barely flinched, only snapped on her gloves and began ordering Alex around.

He was in there with her, now.

Lexie and Jackson had been booted from operating due to personal relationships, and as much as they tried to argue, Bailey didn't fold for a second.

And so, they sat in the gallery.

With Mark.

Lexie was absolutely terrified, but even she was extremely worried for the man standing eerily still with a single palm placed against the glass window.

Jackson sat beside her, restlessly tapping his heel against the ground, watching the surgery with a focus that rivaled the people actually operating on his sister.

She almost said something to him, a quiet it'll be okay or an even quieter are you okay, but decided against it.

None of them were okay.

None of this was okay.

In the reflection, Lexie could see the tears rolling down Mark's cheeks, and she tried desperately to stop her own.

When Meredith and Derek sprinted into the gallery, she failed, and she failed miserably.

"I was in surgery, I—I didn't know, I—" Derek cut himself off, and his hand raised to cover his mouth when he looked down at the operating table. "Oh my god."

Meredith sucked in a sharp breath, instinctively wrapped a hand around her husband's bicep. Lexie would've hugged her, but she knew her sister wasn't too keen on physical affection.

"Is she—what happened?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Lexie saw Mark clench his jaw.

Jackson spoke for both of them when he replied monotonously, not even glancing in their direction, "They found adhesions on... on her intestines, and her bowel, and... and her uterus. Bailey thinks it's... it's scar tissue from her previous surgeries that... that got infected."

Lexie bit the inside of her cheek, reluctantly finishing his thought with a lowered voice, "Cassie's in septic shock."

In front of her, Mark didn't move a muscle.

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How could he move?

Mark didn't know how to do anything at the moment, aside from staring blankly down into his fiancée's open stomach and trying desperately to control the bile building up in this throat.

Scar tissue.

Cassie had so many scars.

Mark had tried his hardest to make them go away, or at least, to make them stop hurting so much. The physical ones, he couldn't control; the gunshot wound from her intern year, the open heart surgery she had from the ferry crash only months later.

The emotional ones, though, he had the power to heal. Well, when Cassie allowed him to, he did.

Bonnie, Denny, George, Ethan, so many of the patients she loved; each of their deaths chipped away at her heart, a bit, until the small scratches turned into a gaping wound.

Mark knew it affected her more than she let on.

Cassie had fought for her happiness, battling against her every instinct to just say fuck it and give up. It took her months—no, years—for her to find the strength it took to let go, to move on.

They were happy.

They were happy.

Mark wouldn't be able to survive, not if he didn't have her. It wasn't metaphorical. He could feel his body generating an injury to match hers; a broken heart, maybe. Whatever it was, something in his chest screamed at the doctors operating to get her back, get her back before he was forced to go away with her.

Because if one of them died, they both did.

A gentle hand on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts, and Mark belatedly realized that his entire body had been shaking.

Derek, with as little force as necessary, pushed his shoulder so that he was forced to look away from Cassie and at his friend, instead.

Mark swallowed, and saw the shining, unshed tears in Derek's eyes. The other man tried to say something, but it got caught in his throat, like he choked on it.

Instead, he just squeezed his shoulder.

A sob racked Mark's body, a heavy dam bursting at the first delicate touch it received, and Derek didn't waste any time before pulling him into his shoulder, strong arms wrapping around his brother and keeping him upright.

The worst part of being a doctor was the unpredictability. No, that was the worst part of being human.

People could be laughing one minute and dead the next. They could be healthy, until all of a sudden they weren't, and everything could be perfect, until all of a sudden it wasn't.

Mark thought back to that morning.

(Had he told Cassie he loved her?)

It was so easy to fall into a routine, an assumption that because everything was fine, that everything would be fine.

(Did he say I love you?)

Mark's cries were muffled into the white fabric of Derek's lab coat, and as much as he wanted to refuse, he allowed the other man to guide him away from the gallery.

(He didn't.)

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Alex's eyes were angled upwards, and Bailey put in valiant effort not to scold him for it.

"Focus, Karev," was all she said.

After making sure he did the same, she returned her gaze back to the surgical field, where it was supposed to be.

Cassie had been on her table too many times.

Bailey believed in God, she knew she did, but she also questioned why the man put this poor girl through so much. Maybe he didn't; maybe, he couldn't control every little thing, or every single person's exact path. But just this once, she begged Him to step in.

Because no matter how hard she worked, how experienced she was, or state-of-the-art her techniques were, she wasn't God.

They'd practically replaced Cassie's entire blood volume by now. Things weren't going perfectly; they'd found that the scar tissue debris had infected several of her major organs, and they had to remove her spleen entirely.

"You're too quiet."

Things had slowed down, just a bit, just enough so Alex's words didn't cause a disruption. Bailey still frowned, though.

"Excuse me?"

"I need you to talk," he continued, rushing through his words like he was too afraid to say them. "About something. It's—you're too quiet."

"Karev—" Bailey cut herself off with a sigh, because he wasn't wrong. She hadn't spoken much, not since she walked in on an unconscious Cassandra Harper in trauma room one. There wasn't really anything to say.

Bailey just needed to save her life.

That was her job. To save lives. To save hers.

It was her responsibility, to look after Cassie. All of the residents, really. And that responsibility transcended write ups, and punishments, and teaching; that responsibility included this.

"No," Alex argued, despite not looking up from the scar tissue he was debriding, "I need you to talk about the stupid weather, or something, because when you're quiet, that means you're scared, and I can't have you being scared when you're supposed to be saving her life, okay?"

Bailey looked up at him, that time.

"I get loud."

Alex scoffed, but confusion was evident in his voice when he replied, "What?"

"When I'm scared," Bailey emphasized, picking up a new surgical instrument and returning her focus back to Cassie, "I get loud. I scream, I cry, I—I'm loud."

Feeling Alex's gaze remain on her face, she sighed again, but didn't acknowledge it. Save her life. She just needed to save her life.

"Then what is it?"

His voice betrayed his fear.

Bailey knew how frightened he was. She knew that George's death changed him, despite his adamant refusal that it did, and she knew that Cassie's death would break him.

It would break her, too. And Mark, and Derek, and Meredith, and Cristina, and Lexie and Jackson and—well, Cassie touched a lot of people. In the hospital, and outside of it. Nothing would make sense if she were gone.

A world without her wouldn't be right.

Bailey wished she told her that, before the possibility of such a thing happening was possible.

"Cassie doesn't deserve this," was all she could say back, because it was the only thing she knew to be true at that point in time. "The old pain coming back from the dead, and bringing more with it."

"Yeah," he agreed halfheartedly. All of a sudden, his tone changed, like he was trying to convince himself everything was alright. "Hey, at least I don't owe her one anymore."

Bailey raised a brow at him. "What do you mean?"

Alex shrugged. "I mean, she saved my life and almost died while doin' it, but now I'm saving her life, so it's payback."

Letting out a half-amused scoff, Bailey shook her head, silently appreciating that he coaxed her out of her silent internal breakdown. "That's what you're thinking about right now?"

He shrugged again.

"I don't like owing people stuff."

Beneath her mask, for just a fraction of a second, Bailey allowed herself smile. Then, she went back to doing what she did best. 

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Mark had finally calmed down.

Well, as much as a man who's one true love was currently in a life-threatening surgery for the millionth time could calm down, that is.

He and Derek moved to the waiting room, impatiently sitting on uncomfortable chairs, occasionally pacing around the open area for the past several hours.

They'd gotten an update from Lexie, who was still watching the surgery with Jackson and Meredith—Callie and Cristina's phones were going straight to voicemail—and according to her, things were actually going well.

Mark didn't necessarily believe it, knowing Cassie's luck, but he wanted to desperately.

Finally, they knew exactly what happened.

Evidently, Cassie returning to work a mere two weeks after being shot her intern year wasn't a good idea.

The scar was fine externally, but she neglected to allow the wound to heal properly before returning to her usual life; three years later, and somewhere along the way, an abscess developed.

And now, she was in sepsis.

People could live through it. Mark knew that, but the knowing didn't help, because he also knew how quickly it could lead to someone's death.

All of a sudden, Derek squeezed his shoulder, and he remembered that he wasn't alone.

"It's Cass," he said simply.

Mark knew the end of the sentence without him having to say it. It's Cass, she'll be okay. It's Cass. Angels don't die. The last part was his own thoughts talking, but that was the gist.

"I know," Mark replied.

He didn't know, though.

Angels don't die, but to be an angel, you already have to be dead. He hoped to God that coming back to life counted.

"You know, she was staying at my trailer, after she and Burke got shot, and—and Denny died."

"Yeah," Mark nodded, his moves monotonous, his voice dry. "I remember. She called to complain about how messy you are, after she stubbed her toe on your... something."

Derek snorted, shaking his head.

His smile dropped as quickly as it came.

"Have you ever noticed that whenever she's hurt, it's always, somehow, my fault?"

Mark did notice, but was too polite to say anything. Putting the blame onto his best friend was easy, but he knew it wasn't right. Blame never helped anyone; it was a scapegoat, almost as damaging as hope.

"Have you noticed that whenever she's hurt, I'm never there?"

Derek sighed, because he noticed, too.

"She'll be okay," he finally said, but Mark knew he was only trying to convince himself of that fact. "It's Cass. She has to be."

Mark forced himself to nod, to have hope, to believe it was true. There was no world in which he would exist in a world without Cassie. He wouldn't allow it. At the very least, if one of them died, he'd be sure to make certain that he'd be the one to die first.

"I—I can't lose her."

"You won't. We won't."

"I can't lose her," Mark repeated numbly with shake of his head. "Derek, she's all I got, man, I can't."

"You won't," Derek emphasized, and for a split second, the other man almost believed him.

But then, Lexie came around the corner.

Mark took one look at her face, the furrow in her brows, the downward twitching of her lips, and he didn't wait for her to speak. He didn't wait for her to tell him that his fiancée was dead. He couldn't hear it. Not before he saw her.

He needed to see her.

He blinked, and he was running again.

As fast as his feet could take him, he ran. Ignoring Derek's shouts, ignoring the way his shoulder rammed into Lexie when he blew past her; Mark ran, ran towards the OR, ran towards the elevator, ran to her.

Somewhere along the way, he went into denial.

If Cassie was gone, he would feel it.

They were tied together by some invisible string, pulled tightly around each of their hearts; if one end broke, he'd be the first to know.

He kept running, until he reached the door to the scrub room, and stopped dead in his tracks.

(He would've felt it, right?)

Mark stared blankly at the door.

(Yes. He would've.)

Before he had a chance to gain the courage to enter, the door swung open from the inside, and a visibly tired Bailey walked out.

"Sloan? I thought you'd be—"

"Where is she?"

Blinking once, Bailey looked him up and down, craning her neck to glance down the empty hallway, and returning her gaze to Mark. He repeated the question, this time more fervently, and she tilted her head.

"Well, I thought I sent Grey—"

Mark's mouth opened, as if he was about to argue, but it was then that he finally noticed the distinct lack of tears on the short woman's cheeks.

Bailey wasn't crying.

Unlike himself, when he finally understood.

"Cass is—"

"Fine," she completed his sentence. Her tone was soothing, and he recognized it as the one she often used with especially sensitive patients. "It was touch and go for a while, but we gave her a blood transfusion and eventually cleared the infection. She'll be fine."

Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, Mark's entire body relaxed, and he instinctively took a step back.

"Cass is..."

Bailey nodded, looking down at him with some mix of exhaustion and relief. "Avery and Meredith took her up to the ICU, which is where I thought you'd be, but—I—okay, what are you doing—oh—"

He hugged her, covering his face with one hand as he fully, openly, sobbed.

"Oh, God, thank you..."

He heard Bailey audibly sigh, and it went quiet for a moment as a hesitant hand rubbed his back, before he was eventually pushed away.

"Alright, okay."

Despite his best efforts, Mark laughed, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. "Sorry, that was—sorry. Thank you."

"It's my job, Sloan," Bailey shrugged, fighting off a grin. "Now, get yourself together. Cassie's been through enough, she doesn't need to wake up to her fiancé lookin' like a kicked puppy."

Mark laughed again, for more reasons than one. Cassie was going to wake up, and that fact alone was enough to bring a smile to his lips.

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

"Okay," Bailey repeated, removing her scrub cab with a tired fist. "Come on. Let's go see your girl."

His girl.

His girl, who was alive.

The restraint it took to not sprint straight to the ICU, nevermind the sick patients and doctors he may injure, was unprecedented.

━━━━━⭒━━━━━

Cassie must've slept wrong.

There was an ache in her back—no, her stomach—that made her wince before she was even able to open her eyes. Which was a difficult task, as she felt increasingly drowsy, like she'd just taken an entire bottle of Nyquil.

Her alarm must've been going off, as the quiet beep, beep, beep rung out in her ears, but she didn't have the energy to turn it off.

Plus, she was really thirsty.

A few seconds later, and she connected the dots.

Oh.

Forcing her eyelids to peel apart, the first thing she did was groan at the sight of the all-too-familiar walls of the ICU. The second thing, was ask for the one person who, even in her hazy, half-asleep mind, she knew she needed to see.

"Mark?"

Although the name came out of her lips as a laughable Mrrrk, he must've been in the room, because she felt a tight squeeze of her hand a fraction of a second later.

Her hand was warm, and she smiled when she realized that he'd been holding it.

"Hey."

The voice came from her left.

Slowly, she turned to face him, as much as she could without straining any muscles. Her mouth was noticeably dry, and she coughed, focusing her blurry gaze onto her fiancés beautiful face.

Mark had dark circles nearly down to his cheeks, puffy eyes, and was wearing a sweatshirt, in public. Safe to say, she knew that for however long she'd been out, he'd been by her side.

(She knew he would be.)

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Mark did his best to laugh, but it was futile. He looked sad, and Cassie squeezed his hand when he silently held a cup of water to her lips.

"You feel okay?"

Nodding, Cassie swallowed the water, finally allowing herself to take in the gravity of the situation.

Tubes in her veins, the crinkling of an overly large bandage covering most of her stomach. The fresh pair of hospital socks on her feet, the braids in her hair that she definitely didn't put there herself.

"How long have I been..."

Mark ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "A little over two days. They had to keep you under, so your infection could heal."

"Infection?"

Just as she asked the question, Bailey entered, and despite being a genius, she didn't need to be one to figure out why.

Cassie was pretty sure Miranda Bailey deserved a Harper Avery Award, simply for dealing with with the strenuous task of keeping her alive for the past four years.

Or even a Nobel Peace Prize, maybe.

"How are you?" the older woman asked, and Cassie recognized the smile behind her eyes, even if one wasn't on her lips. "Any pain?"

"No, I'm just... confused. The last thing I remember is... sitting in the cafeteria, and then just... nothing."

Bailey set down the chart—Cassie's chart—in her hands, and moved to stand near the foot of the hospital bed. Mark took the brief time to check her vitals, and Cassie followed his gaze, seeing that they were surprisingly good.

"There was some infected scar tissue build up, most likely a surgical scar that didn't heal properly," Bailey informed her, and then it all made sense. "It... it was quite extensively spread throughout your abdomen, but Karev and I were able to get in there in time and debride it. You're gonna be okay, all things considered."

Cassie blinked.

"Well, I guess Alex doesn't owe me anymore."

Bailey smiled at that.

Mark hadn't stopped touching her since she woke up, she noticed. Her hand, her arm, and now, as he ran a hand over her head. Cassie leaned into the touch, closing her eyes for a moment.

When she opened them, she met his eye.

"Are you okay?"

Mark let out a sharp exhale, still running a hand through the front flyaway pieces of her hair. "Don't worry about me."

Cassie narrowed her eyes. "That's a no."

He just looked at her for a moment, staring right through her and into her soul, and she looked back just as adamantly. A long, silent conversation later, and he kept her gaze, leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on the back of her palm.

(I love you, she told him. I love you more, he told her back. Not possib—actually, you can have this one, she replied.)

"Uh, there was one more thing I'd like to talk to you about," Bailey interrupted the moment, her voice hesitant. Cassie looked back at her, and froze at the look on her face. "If you have a second."

Mark paused, as well.

Cassie frowned.

"Don't tell me it's cancer."

Bailey seemed taken aback.

"No, no, it's—"

"It's cancer?"

"No—"

"Tumor, then? Am I—I'm not pregnant, right? Oh, god, I was pregnant? Is it cancer? It's not cancer, right, because I really don't think I can handle—"

"Cassandra, stop interrupting."

With a huff, Cassie leaned into Mark's touch again, rolling her eyes at the scolding. Just because Bailey saved her life three—no, four times now, that didn't mean she could just be rude.

"Just let her talk, angel."

Mark spoke, and Cassie melted.

"Sorry," she halfheartedly apologized. "So what is it? Like, good or bad news? Bailey, please tell me it's—"

"Shh," Mark hushed her quietly, and Cassie realized that he was practically petting her head to calm her down. Against her better judgment, she didn't hate it.

"Okay, okay, sorry."

Cassie waved for the woman to go on.

"Alright, so," Bailey started, "The infection spread all the way to your uterus. I had to take a good look at it to make sure it was all cleared out, and I know that after your previous surgeries, you've had some... concerns, about your uterine health. I just... wanted to... fill you in."

Mark strengthened his grip on her hand.

"Okay..."

The word infertility echoed around her mind, but she tried to push the thought away.

Bailey smiled, then.

Cassie held Mark's hand even tighter.

"Everything is perfectly healthy."

Up until then, Cassie didn't know how much impact four simple words could have. Perfectly healthy had never, in her twenty-seven years of life, been used to describe her in any context.

Cassie was speechless, and so with the permission her assured gaze allowed, Mark asked the question she so desperately wanted to.

"What... what are you saying?"

They were both doctors. They were both surgeons. They both knew what she meant, but they also both knew that their chances in the happiness department were slim to none. They both knew that they would never get lucky, and they'd made their peace with that.

"I'm saying," Bailey said with unbridled softness, "That if, at some point, you two would like to have biological children... I see no reason why that's not a possibility."

All at once, the engaged couple's eyes lit up.

Cassie didn't care about the road to recovery after a major abdominal surgery. She didn't care that she'd passed out at work, or scared everyone she loved. She didn't care that no one else was by her side, and she didn't care where they were, either.

At that moment, all she cared about was the man holding her hand through the pain.

"We can have kids?"

Mark's hand moved to her cheek, and he gently turned her head to face him. The elation on his face was worse than contagious; it was an infection in and of itself.

"We can have kids, Cass."

Cassie couldn't stop herself grinning with all of her teeth, despite the strain on her chapped lips.

"I—I mean, not now, but—"

"No, no, but at some point—"

"Yeah. Yeah, at some point."

Mark smiled back, and for once, the dread of Cassie's impending future was nothing but a sad, distant memory.

author's note ━━━━━━━━
in my reputation era (disappearing
from this fic for three whole months)

omg?? an angsty coding chapter with
a happy ending that furthers the plot??
likely place for fxllmoons to be

also if this chapter sucks it's bc i hate
it and just needed to post something
before i had a breakdown abjslnjdejns