CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT
perfect little accident.
season six, episode sixteen.
(lol, time to grab your popcorn, folks)

          CASSIE WAS ABOUT EIGHTY PERCENT SURE THAT SHE WAS DEAD. She could practically hear the sirens of the ambulances coming to take her body away, lying limply on the bed as she pictured Mark at the funeral home picking out a casket for her body to lie in during her memorial service.

And as someone who had actually been dead before, she felt like this death was somehow a million times worse than the others; mainly because of the fact that she was still breathing.

Hangovers had never been a big deal for Cassie, considering the fact that she rarely (if ever) got them. And if she did get them, they were minor, only some slight nausea with a headache that could be cured by taking a couple ibuprofen. But no, this hangover wasn't like the ones she was used to; this hangover was angry, and it was violent. It had her on the verge of tears only seconds after waking up, and she hadn't even attempted to open her eyes yet. This hangover felt like death.

(Okay, so perhaps she was being a little dramatic.)

With a prolonged groan of pain, Cassie carefully peeled one eye open, the other remaining shut as it was smashed between her head and the pillow.

Patiently, she waited for the drunken embarrassment of the night prior to come flooding back in waves of shock, just as it usually did after each time she drank her heart away. But oddly enough, it never did, leaving her unable to reminisce on whatever tequila-induced bad choices she'd made.

A breeze from the air conditioning made her shiver, and it was then that she realized her covers were nowhere to be found.

Blindly reaching behind herself, she grabbed ahold of them, attempting to yank them over her shoulder, only the covers didn't move an inch. The phenomenon eerily reminded her of her many peaceful mornings several months prior, back when she'd often stay the night at Mark's apartment, and she'd wake up to him cocooned in the sheets while she was left bare, her only heat source being the body beside her.

Actually, now that she thought about it, the current moment felt exactly like that—

Cassie's eyes snapped wide open, and with a gasp, she braced herself for the startling revelation that oh fuck, she slept with her ex, didn't she?

She wished she could be surprised, but really, it was just a matter of time before Cassie blocked her therapist's number and jumped Mark's bones the first chance she got.

Though, she was a little surprised that he would allow it to happen, but then again, he could have been just as drunk as she was (she wouldn't know; really, she couldn't remember anything).

When she turned over, Cassie expected her gaze to land on chiseled muscles, light brown hair flecked with grey, and the face of the man she loved more than life itself.

She expected him to already be awake, looking back at her, a mixture of sadness and relief in his eyes, knowing that this wouldn't change anything between them. At least, not yet.

Only, when she turned over, Cassie was slapped in the face with the realization that there wasn't a man in her bed, at all.

"Lexie?"

The other girl's eyes were locked on the ceiling above them, wide, fearful. At the mention of her name, she pressed the sheets even closer to her chest — her naked chest — and faced Cassie with what could only be described as severe and existential dread. She blinked, not once, but twice, before whispering out a panicked yet entirely true statement—

"Rue is gonna kill me."

Fuck.

"No, she's not," Cassie replied slowly, sitting up at a delayed pace while reaching for the nearest item of clothing that happened to be sprawled across her bedroom floor. As she got to her feet, she chose to ignore the fact that Lexie could see, well, every part of her body.

"We had sex, Cass!" Lexie whispered fiercely, so loudly that she may as well had just said it at a normal volume. "Drunken, messy, really good but also very, very messed up sex!"

"Lexie!" Cassie snapped, her patience running thin as she pulled the t-shirt from the floor over her head. "Rue is not going to kill you, because we are not going to tell her!"

Lexie paused, and when she looked at her, Cassie saw that the thought of lying to their respective exes had yet to cross her hazy, alcohol-soaked mind.

"We're not?"

Cassie didn't enjoy being untruthful; in fact, doing so made her feel more guilty than anything else.

Sure, harmless white lies never hurt, but the big lies? Those were the ones she did her best to stay away from.

After all, the last time she neglected to tell the truth, she ended up with a broken nose and a pseudo-older brother telling her she was unlovable; let's just say, lying never turned out well for anyone as long as Cassie was involved.

"It'll only hurt them if they knew," she reasoned calmly, despite the girl under the covers still being in full fledged panic-mode. "It was just a one night stand. Besides, it's not like— it's not like any of us are together, anymore, right? We— we didn't do anything wrong."

(At least, that's what she was trying to convince herself.)

"Them?" Lexie murmured under her breath, before letting out a gasp and raising her voice to a volume which made the pounding in Cassie's head increase tenfold. "Oh god, Sloan is gonna kill me!"

"Dude, shut up!" Cassie rubbed her temples, the rays of sun coming in through the window only making everything feel worse (wait, the sun was already up?). "Fuck, what time is it?"

Lexie checked the time on the clock, and judging by the look on her face, it was pretty safe to assume they were running late.

Sure enough, when the second year resident tossed Cassie her phone, she realized that they each only had about two minutes to get dressed, brush their teeth, and make it across the street to the hospital, before Bailey suddenly materialized before them with a lecture in her back pocket.

Slyly, she sniffed the t-shirt she'd just thrown on, cringing at the scent of several different boozes mixed together with— was that Lexie's perfume?

Now, it was a well known fact that Lexie and Cassie were both incredibly smart; geniuses, even. But through the fog of their hangovers and, let's just say, a restless night, they weren't currently fit to make smart decisions.

Hence, the alcohol stained shirt Cassie failed to remove, their immediate devotion to lying, and their mutual choice to forgo a shower in the name of being on time.

While Cassie haphazardly stepped into the first pair of jeans she saw, she failed to see Lexie spring out of bed and get fully dressed in the time it took Cassie to find her zipper. When she turned around, Lexie was nearly ready to leave, whereas Cassie had yet to so much as put her socks on.

"I'm a terrible liar," Lexie said to herself under her breath, using the reflection of Cassie's mirror to tie up her hair in an incredibly messy bun. It seemed as though she was becoming increasingly panicked in a very short time, her cheeks flushing red with nerves. "I am a terrible, terrible, terrible, terrible, terrible—"

"Lex, would you just calm down—"

"I am a terrible liar, Cass!" The girl in question jumped at the significant raise in volume, only just now understanding the severity of Lexie's words. "I can hardly manage to keep a straight face in front of patients, let alone my ex-girlfriend, and I sure as hell cannot lie to Mark freaking Sloan!"

"Why not?!"

"He's scary!"

Shutting her eyes with all the force she could muster, Cassie let out a prolonged sigh, still not completely accepting of what happened only hours prior.

Lexie was her friend, and really, the night was entirely platonic minus, well, the whole sex thing. It didn't mean anything at all, and maybe she'd tell Mark someday, but today sure as fuck wasn't going to be that day.

"Lexie," she spoke calmly to the shaking girl in front of her, "Listen to me carefully, okay? It was just a one time thing. It didn't mean anything, and we're still both obsessed with our exes to an upsetting degree. Telling them will only make everything worse. You can do this."

Lexie just looked at her, her face the picture of anxiety.

"Do you have anything to eat here?"

Her brows furrowing, Cassie nodded dumbly, halfheartedly gesturing to the kitchen. By the time she'd managed to follow a sprinting Lexie out her bedroom door, she spotted her with a face full of three separate granola bars and a carton of chocolate milk in her hand.

"Uh, yeah, help yourself."

"I should go," Lexie said between bites, somehow keeping all three bars in her mouth at once as she threw her purse over her shoulder, which was laying in the middle of the kitchen floor, for some reason. "Okay, um, I'll see you at the hospital, so, um, bye—"

Cassie frowned as she watched her move quickly towards the front door. "Wait, Lex, I can walk with you, just give me—"

"No, no, I should— I'm just gonna go."

Just as the door into the apartment hallway swung open, Cassie yelled out, "Remember, don't tell Mark!"

Removing the granola bars from her mouth as the door shut, Lexie sent Cassie a thumbs up in confirmation that no, she wasn't going to tell. Knowing that Cassie put her trust in her, and really not wanting to lose that trust, Lexie made a silent vow to prove to herself that she was perfectly capable of telling a lie once in awhile.

"Don't tell me what?"

On the other hand, proving stuff had always been more Cassie's thing, anyways.

Mark stood there, in the doorway to his apartment, staring at Lexie with the tiniest bit of hope he could muster. She didn't know how much he'd heard (other than the last part, obviously), but it was clear that he had some semblance of what was going on; the real question, was whether or not he wanted to believe it.

Lexie brushed the granola bar crumbs from her lips, avoiding any possible form of eye contact, because she wasn't lying when she said that Mark could be really scary when he wanted to be. That, and that she was generally scared of most men, which was why she regularly thanked god for making her attracted to women, instead. "You know, I'm, um, I'm actually running late to work, so—"

Mark took a step forward.

"Don't tell me what, little Grey?"

"I-I really have to—"

"Is that my shirt?"

(At this time, Lexie heavily considered dropping everything and running in the opposite direction.)

It's not like she meant to wear the-girl-she-hooked-up-with's-ex-boyfriend's-shirt. She just so happened to open the first drawer she saw, and she just so happened to choose the first clothing item that resembled any form of comfort. It's not like she purposely chose the biggest shirt in the drawer, an extra large black t-shirt with the words "I survived Cherry's Strip Club 1998!" in big white block letters. It was an accident.

"No?"

The second the lie left her mouth, Lexie felt immediate guilt — and hunger, for some reason? — at the look on Mark's face. She watched him glance between her and the door to Cassie's apartment in quick succession, before nodding to himself in an oddly calm manner.

"Oh."

Oh.

"I really do have to go," Lexie said, genuine apology clear in her voice despite her rising anxiety that he actually was going to kill her. "I-I'm sorry, Dr. Sloan."

Mark ignored Lexie as she left in a hurry, and for a long moment, he stared blankly at the floor. His jaw was clenched, his hands rolled into fists, and yet, he didn't feel angry. Really, for the first time in his life, Mark wasn't sure if he felt anything at all.

Sparing one last glance at the door after hearing footsteps approaching from the other side, he took a deep breath, unclenched his fists, and headed for the elevator before Cassie could see him.

☆

Today was really not a good day for Cassie.

Entering through the ER, as it was the closest entrance to the street, she could already tell it was going to be a day from hell. Especially because, just her luck, she was assigned to Owen's service for the rest of the week.

It's not that Cassie didn't like trauma surgery, but more so that the chaos of it all was so severe, that each time she was on trauma rotation, she had to take an extra dose of her anxiety medication just to avoid a panic attack.

And yet, throughout her mess of a morning, she'd neglected to take any at all (the first time she'd done so since the month George died).

Besides, she didn't need any more trauma in her life. Cassie was pretty sure she already had enough.

"Harper!" she heard from behind her, the voice coming from the all too familiar redhead. If she were completely honest, Cassie still wasn't sure how she felt about him, but he made Cristina happy, so she decided to remain neutral. "I've been looking for y— why do you smell like you spent the night at Joe's?"

Sending him a fake and slightly distressed smile, she ran a hand through her knotted and disasterous hair. As her stable mind slowly began to come back to her, and the potential reprocussions of her actions began to seep in, so did reality. That alone was nearly enough to send her spiraling off the deep end.

"I had an... interesting night."

She wasn't sure if Owen didn't care, or if he just figured it was none of his business, but he only sent her a curt nod, gesturing towards a nurse to hand her a pair of scrubs (Cassie instantly recognized the nurse as the one who broke up Lexie and Rue, and therefore, was unintentionally responsible for ruining her day).

Still, she took them from her hands with a grin, albeit overly exaggerated and clearly sarcastic.

Owen gave her a strange look as he said, "Go change. I can't have you treating patients looking like..."

Cassie appreciated how he chose not to finish his sentence.

Just as she was about to head to the bathroom to change (as well as put on some much needed deodorant), Cristina came up from behind her, whistling lowly with a teasing tone in her voice. "Wow, looks like McAngel is a little McDrunk."

"I'm not drunk," Cassie corrected sharply, knowing that the one thing she would never do is put a patient in danger due to her carelessness. She had Izzie Stevens to thank for that personal rule. Cristina raised a brow, not impressed. "Okay, I'm a little hungover, but it's fine. I just need to wake up, and... get my hands dirty."

"And change," Owen added, not kidding in the slightest.

"Yeah. And change."

Cristina rolled her eyes, though Cassie knew it was in a lighthearted manner. "Well, feel free to take your time. I'm already up against Gigantor over there—" she gestured to a doctor from Mercy West, who Cassie faintly recalled being named Percy, "—for the trauma coming in, and I don't need more competition. Especially from you."

Headache aside, Cassie smirked knowingly. "Why, 'cause you know I'll get to it first?"

"Oh, shut up."

"I agree," Owen interrupted, practically herding Cassie towards the bathroom. "Shut up, and get changed. There's no time to be late in trauma, let alone chit-chat."

Scoffing, Cassie did as told, though, not without grumbling under her breath, "Calm down, general."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing!"

☆

"And do you feel any pain when you look to the left?"

Cassie's gloved hand rested against the man's neck, who had been in a minor rear-end accident and had a supposed case of whiplash. For the first time in her life, she was actually happy to be on trauma, if it meant routine procedures and a low stress day.

"No," the man shook his head, before wincing, making Cassie hold back an eye roll at his stupidity. Though, she wasn't really one to judge. "Only when I look right, but it's also really bad when I look up."

"Okay, so what I'm going to do is write you a weeks worth of prescription for some non-addictive pain medicine." The man nodded, but looked a bit nervous. "Don't worry, it's basically just, like, bougie tylenol—"

Out of the blue, a loud voice silenced Cassie in the middle of her sentence. She glanced over towards the entrance to the ER, spotting an older white man accompanied by his— wait, was that Jackson?

"Call my driver and tell him there's still time to make my flight if he comes straight here!"

The man didn't exactly seem happy about being escorted on a stretcher, Cassie observed idly as she finished writing her patient his prescription. He did seem pretty healthy, though, which meant that Cassie had unofficial dibs on being his doctor.

"You passed out in a restaurant and you have abdominal pain," Jackson said to the man sternly as they passed by her on a stretcher. Considering that Jackson wasn't in his scrubs, nor did he work today, according to the schedule the last time Cassie checked, she naturally assumed he was with him. "You're not getting on a plane."

As the man was being moved from the stretcher to an ER bed, Cassie instinctively straightened her jacket and tightened the bun in her hair, which she'd made sure to fix in the bathroom as to not look unpresentable (she did care a little bit).

Making her way towards the two, she made sure to put on a kind smile, something she did for every patient she spoke to in order to ease their nerves.

Now that Cassie and Jackson had cleared the air between them the day prior, she no longer felt uncomfortable around him. While she still didn't buy that he was borderline stalking her just so he could ask what kind of car she drove, she also didn't particularly care about him enough to dig any deeper.

"The pain's gone," she heard the man say with certainty as she approached. "And whatever caused it can wait until I get home."

"Hi there," Cassie smiled as she finally arrived at his side, gently removing the stethoscope around her neck. "I'll be taking care of you today. Could you please lie back on the gurney for me?"

Preoccupied with getting the man comfortable, Cassie neglected to spot the panic in Jackson's eyes at the sound of her voice.

Without thinking, Jackson reached a hand across the bed, quite literally pushing her away, at least a few inches. It wasn't rough, and it didn't hurt in the slightest (honestly, she hardly felt it), but the action made her pause in her movements, looking up at him in slight shock.

"I got this," was all he said, cutting off whatever expletive was about to come out of her mouth as a reaction.

Cassie raised a challenging brow, but before she could so much as raise her stethoscope to her ears, Cristina slid between her and the bed, taking residence near the man's head.

With a roll of her eyes, Cassie decided that this patient really wasn't worth it, though that didn't stop her from saying to Cristina—

"Dude, not cool."

Cristina ignored her, just as Cassie expected she would, and began speaking over everyone in the vicinity, as if the man were hard of hearing. Which, at his age, probably wouldn't be a stretch to assume. "Sir, I need you to lie back so I can do a proper examination."

"Tell this lady to back off, Jackie," he responded, rather aggressively, Cassie thought, as he glanced over at her as well. "That one too."

Cristina looked at Cassie, and vice versa, before they both turned to Jackson in confusion. "Jackie?"

Jackson scoffed, playing it cool while still eyeing Cassie warily. "Whatever, it's not—" Cristina began feeling the man's stomach, meanwhile Cassie just watched Jackson stutter in amusement. "—look, I-I've already paged Bailey, and he's not cardio, or— or neuro, so you two can lose interest, okay?"

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Cristina murmured.

"I'm on Bailey's service," Cassie lied, just to see him squirm a little. He seemed nervous — like, really nervous — and Cassie was nosy. She wanted to know why.

"Sir," Cristina spoke to the man, once again using a tone of voice that made even Cassie feel like she thought he was stupid, or demented (she found that a little ageist). "I'm a surgeon, a very good one."

"So is my grandson," he replied, staring into Cristina's eyes with a fire that made Cassie take a step backwards. "So why don't you take your hands off me?"

"Wait," Cristina turned to Jackson, "He's your grandfather?"

Cassie popped up behind Cristina's shoulder, always having had a soft spot for her friend's (or in this case, semi-acquaintances) family members. For all she knew, he could be just as sweet as George's father was.

"It's nice to meet you!" Cassie waved at him with a smile, receiving only a halfhearted nod in return.

Jackson looked between the two women, his aura disturbingly serious for a Tuesday morning. He spoke through clenched teeth, his voice low. "Seriously, you two, I can handle this."

"No," Cristina corrected him, very obviously willing to start a fight. "Because he has midepigastric tenderness and guarding. It could be ascending cholangitis."

Cassie scrunched up her nose, knowing just how much of a reach that was. But she supposed Cristina was allowed to dream.

"Ascending cholangitis?" Mr. Avery repeated, in the same disbelieving tone that Cassie would have if she were to speak her thoughts. "Really? With only one of the symptoms of Charcot's Triad?"

In unison, Cassie and Cristina paused. Slowly removing her stethoscope from his chest and placing it around her neck, Cristina leaned back into an upright position, her head tilting to the side.

Cassie just watched with wide eyes, knowing that a wrong Cristina is a dangerous Cristina. She knew from experience, and she really didn't recommend being the one to tell her she was wrong. It never ends well.

"You're a doctor?"

"Apparently a much better one than you are." The man stuck out his hand as an offer to shake Cristina's own, when he replied, "Dr. Harper Avery. And your name, Doctor?"

Cassie looked at Jackson, only to see him already looking at her, his face paled, almost as if he'd just seen a ghost.

And really, who could blame him? Cassie had been through something like this before, back when Meredith's mother arrived, screaming at the doctors and nurses and even her daughter herself.

She was there when she held Meredith's hand, the blonde girl praying to god that people would stop whispering about it in the hallways. Of course, it wasn't the exact same thing, but just based on the fact that Jackson was initially trying to hide his familial connections, she knew it couldn't be easy.

But she was surprised that no one had thought of it before, his last name being Avery, and all.

Cristina drawled out a response, her hand securely shaking his own and not letting go. "Haaarperavery—"

"Uh, no, that's my name," Harper replied with a slight chuckle, showing them that there were, in fact, emotions within him other than annoyance.

"—as in the Harper Avery award?"

He gave her a blank stare. "Bingo," he replied dryly, looking back to Jackson, who still had yet to look away from Cassie. "Get me a new surgeon, Jackie, one with a pulse this time. What about that one?"

Briefly, Jackson froze. "Oh, no, no, she isn't—"

"She can speak for herself," Cassie send him a confused frown, before she perked up once again, stepping in front of Cristina just as the other woman had done to her only a minute before. Extending a hand, she held her chin up proudly, in the same way she was taught to by her mother; put your chin up, your smile on, and show them that you have confidence. "Dr. Cassie Harper. It truly is a pleasure to meet you, Doctor."

Harper looked her up and down, almost calculatingly. "I'm sorry, did you say—"

"Harper!" Owen shouted across the ER, holding up her previous patient's chart in the air. "You forgot to sign."

Cassie sighed, turning back to the older man, who she was now a bit concerned about, because it seemed as if all the blood had drained from his face. "Excuse me," she said to him politely, before whispering to Jackson on her way past him, "You should have Bailey check his oxygen levels."

As she left, she didn't see the way the two Avery's looked at each other, one in shock, and the other more terrified than he'd ever been before.

☆

"I misdiagnosed Harper Avery, in front of Harper Avery. Do you know what that does to my chances of one day winning a Harper Avery?!"

Cassie walked in step beside Cristina and Meredith, still in awe that she met the Harper Avery. In the medical world, he was basically a glorified Brad Pitt, only much older and much uglier (and also a bit sexist, from what she'd seen of him so far).

"Well, he could die before then," Meredith reasoned, smiling despite her person's external suffering. Cassie also found it a bit funny, not that she'd admit it. "I mean, he could die today, even."

Cristina huffed, the embarrassment of being so openly wrong making her cheeks flush. "I just need to operate on that motorcycle daredevil guy that came in earlier, and I'll be fine."

"Motorcycle daredevil guy?"

"Bashed his head into the concrete."

Cassie raised a brow. "Nice."

As if she had suddenly gained the superpower of sensing the presence of people she'd slept with, Cassie felt Lexie approaching the opposite side of the group seconds before she spoke. "Is it true Harper Avery is here?"

Before responding, Meredith squinted at her sister, eyeing her up and down for several seconds before asking—

"So who did you sleep with?"

It was then that Cassie realized how Lexie was, in fact, telling the truth about being a bad liar. Her eyes immediately went wide, snapping over to Cassie before the girl had any chance to stop it. And as always, the twisted sisters were practically psychic, catching on before either of the brunettes could utter a single word.

"Cassie?!"

(Cassie was too busy cringing to respond.)

"How did you even know?!" Lexie asked her sister in an accusatory tone, her brows deeply furrowed, not even bothering to deny it. "I spent the night at her apartment!"

"Exactly," Meredith laughed, her and Cristina both finding the situation far more amusing than either of the guilty ones had. "You didn't come home last night. Also, I was joking. You really are a terrible liar, Lex."

"Ugh, Meredith—"

The blonde rolled her eyes, sharing a quick grin with Cristina before looking back at Lexie. Cassie just watched the sisters argue, wondering how much she'd have to bribe them each to keep their mouths shut. 

"Relax, we won't tell."

Oh, well, that was easy.

Cristina nodded in affirmation, adding to the conversation despite her mind still being occupied with how badly she screwed up in front of her idol. "Yeah, but be careful, Cass, 'cause—"

"—her heart lives in her vagina," Meredith and Cristina finished the thought in unison, prompting very different reactions from the two others.

Lexie just scoffed in offense, on the verge of denying the accusations, but deciding against it; after all, she was a bad liar.

Cassie didn't have much of a reaction to the statement at all, mainly because in her experience, sleeping with someone and liking someone were two vastly different things. She was sure Lexie felt the same way.

"Relax," Cassie shook her head, a hint of humor in her voice. "We were just drunk off our asses, it didn't mean anything."

Lexie nodded. "Exactly."

Cristina snorted, "Whatever you say, little Grey—"

"Oh, Derek!" Meredith ended the conversation, waving over her husband, who was making his way towards the group. Cassie smiled as he approached, slightly thrown off by his tie, but choosing to ignore it (she still hadn't gotten used to the whole Chief thing). "Did you hear?"

"Hi," Derek grinned at her, tilting his head to the side, entirely unknowing. "Hear about what?"

"Harper Avery is here!" Cassie told him excitedly, a genuine smile on her face as she filled him in. "Hey, did you know that he's Jackson's grandfather? God, imagine how crazy it would be to have a relative like that."

Derek's smile slipped from his face, just for a moment, before it came back. The action was too quick for any of them to notice.

"Yeah, did you know pretty boy's grandfather was god?" Cristina added, very obviously taking the news harder than anyone else.

"No, I-I didn't," Derek said simply as he shook his head, adjusting his tie while refraining from making eye contact with Cassie (for some reason). "That's, uh, that's kind of cool, though."

"No, it's not cool," Cristina continued, "He's an entitled brat, with no skills, except a really good bloodline."

"It is not Jackson's fault that he's related to Harper Avery," Meredith said, more serious than she had been moments prior.

Cassie tilted her head, a laugh bubbling out of her lips before she could stop it. "Mer, I love you, but that's kind of bold coming from you."

"Yeah, Ellis Grey's daughter," Cristina added.

Cassie's pager went off, signaling that Bailey needed her in a patient room rather than returning to the pit, which made yet another smile grace her features. "While we're on the topic of nepotism—" Meredith rolled her eyes, "—why am I being paged to Harper Avery's case rather than mini-Ellis over here?"

"You're being paged?" Cristina scoffed. "You didn't even treat him!"

"Yeah? Neither did you, ascending cholangitis."

"I can't believe they call you an angel—"

"You're on Harper Avery's case?" Derek repeated Cristina's question, though he sounded more... concerned, rather than jealous. Cassie showed him her pager with a tight smile and a shrug, excited that she was chosen, but not freaking out as much as Cristina would have been.

"You don't have to sound so surprised," Cassie joked, well, half-joked. She knew Derek was still concerned for her well-being after everything that went down after George's death, which she assumed was why he was acting a little strange. "Seriously, I've been back in the game for a while. I'm all good."

"Oh," is all he said, though Cassie could tell he was still worried. "Okay, well, um, I'm, um, the Chief, so I should, uh, go with you."

Cassie sent him a slightly confused smile, patting him on the shoulder in mock-comfort. "Don't worry, he doesn't bite. And even if he does, I think he has dentures, so it probably won't hurt."

Derek laughed as he gestured for her to walk in front of him, his amused facade dropping into an anxious one just as she turned away. Meredith sent him a frown, seeing the whole thing, but he just shook his head at her, following Cassie down the narrow hallway.

☆

"As you can see, you've got dialated bowel here, and here," Richard told Harper, standing in front of a computer as he showed him the scans of his abdomen. "Which indicates an obstruction. It's a good thing that our young Dr. Avery brought you straight in. Dr. Bailey can do the surgery right away."

Cassie, who was standing to the right of Richard and Derek and across from Bailey and Jackson, sent the new attending a grin, knowing that operating on someone like this was a really big deal. Besides, if anyone could be trusted with a life, it was Bailey; after all, she'd saved Cassie's own on several separate occasions.

"Was it a student, Webber? A board member's wife?"

Cassie scrunched her nose up in confusion at Harper's words, before she finally understood that he was asking why Richard was fired from being Chief.

Richard blinked at him. "What?"

Harper shrugged, oddly casual. "No one gives up a Chief of Surgery gig, and they don't ask you unless it's for something juicy, so, who were you slipping it to?"

(Cassie wished she could have stopped the surprised laugh that came out of her mouth. What? It was funny.)

"Grandpa—" Jackson sighed heavily at the implication, turning to the former Chief with an apologetic frown, "I'm sorry, Dr. Webber—"

"It was a joke," Harper rolled his eyes. "He doesn't get me. So, Webber?"

"Uh, Dr. Webber decided to focus on his research," Derek cut in. When Cassie looked at him, she noticed the way his hands were just barely shaking; was he really that intimidated by this guy?

"Oh, the research line. Well, either way, at least you'll be free to do my surgery."

"Dr. Bailey is more than capable of performing the surgery—"

"I want Webber," Harper said with certainty, briefly facing Bailey with a clear lack of remorse. "No offense."

Bailey blinked at him. "None taken."

"Oh, and I want to watch."

Cassie's brows furrowed, and she couldn't help but ask aloud, "The surgery?"

Derek mimicked the expression. "What?"

"I'm going to be awake for my surgery. Watch."

Derek said nothing, only letting out a verbal sigh.

"So much for the low stress day," Richard mumbled to Derek, and Cassie found herself silently agreeing.

Granted, she was more than happy to use the surgery as an excuse not to think about how she slept with Lexie, or how she was eventually going to tell Mark, or why Derek looked like he was about to pee his pants right there and then.

Besides, seeing as Harper would be awake, it was an incredible learning opportunity. Though, she was a bit confused why she was chosen for said opportunity, as opposed to Meredith, which was precisely what prompted her to ask—

"Sorry to interrupt, but, uh, why am I here?"

Cassie wasn't sure what to expect when the infamous surgeon turned her way. Perhaps he would tell her that she was paged by mistake, as there was no logical reason she was in the room. Or, he'd make some offhanded sexist remark, or call her a nurse, or something (as if that was an insult). He seemed like the type to do so.

"Well, considering that you're a surgeon, I assume that you'll be in my surgery with Jackie," Harper responded, eyeing her carefully. "You are a surgeon, correct?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"But why her?" Derek cut Cassie off, his tone of voice sending a strange chill down her spine. Sure, she was questioning the same thing, but the way he said it was... insulting, almost. Jackson nodded along, far too enthusiastic, in her opinion, which was also pretty strange. "I mean—"

(But, that was exactly when Cassie realized—)

"It's because of my name, right?"

It was very likely that Derek and Jackson could be diagnosed with whiplash due to the speed that their heads snapped towards her. Cassie thought that perhaps they severed their spinal cords or something, because the looks on their faces were the picture of pure and unadulterated shock.

Derek tilted his head down towards her ear, and quietly asked, "You know?"

Cassie thought her eyebrows might form a unibrow with how often they'd been scrunched together that day. "I know that we're both named Harper?" The response came out as a question, despite it being obviously true. "It's not exactly a secret. Granted, Harper is his first name and my last, but I thought maybe we'd, like, bonded over it... or something."

No one responded, which nearly made Cassie cave into herself out of sheer awkwardness. Why was everyone acting so weird today?

Clearly, Bailey was thinking the same thing. Cutting through the awkward silence that followed Cassie's statement, "Okay, uh, Harper, Avery—"

"Yes?" Harper, Cassie, and Jackson all responded at once.

Bailey paused, stuttering over her words for a moment as she corrected herself. "I-I meant Avery and Harper — no, not you Harper, the other — Jackson and Cassie."

"Yeah?"

"Okay, uh, you two go get the older Dr. Avery's bloodwork from the lab while we discuss the whole... awake thing."

Harper frowned. "There's nothing to discuss—"

"Avery," Derek said Jackson's name, a tense undertone to his voice that Cassie didn't pick up on, "Go, please. Both of you."

Jackson nodded dumbly, walking out the door in front of Cassie so she couldn't see the way his hands were shaking in front of him.

☆

Cassie sat on a bench outside the lab, waiting on Harper's results to come back so they could start the surgery. Jackson remained standing, checking in with the lab tech every few minutes to make sure the results weren't in yet — I told you fifteen times, when I get them, I'll let you know, Cassie heard the man repeat once again, somehow more annoyed with Jackson than she was.

She watched the way his feet restlessly moved back and forth on the tile floor, pacing at an irritatingly loud volume.

Each time Cassie glanced up at his face, Jackson would already be looking at her, only to look away seconds later, as if she couldn't clearly see him doing so.

Cassie wasn't usually one to lose her patience, but for some reason, this guy really got on her nerves.

"Can you stop that?"

Jackson froze in place, removing his hand from his mouth where he was biting his nails. "Stop what?"

"That," Cassie gestured to him as a whole. "The pacing, and the staring, and the nail biting, and the breathing."

"You want me to stop breathing?"

"Right now? Yeah, kinda."

Jackson rolled his eyes at her. "Shut up."

Cassie scoffed. "You shut up."

"No, you—"

"I got the results you're waiting on," the lab tech interrupted their riveting conversation. Jackson moved to grab them, but Cassie hopped out of her seat and beat him to the punch. Not for any particular reason, other than that it was quite amusing to see him annoyed.

"Give them to me," Jackson demanded, holding a hand out for the papers as Cassie expertly avoided his arm.

"Nope," she shook her head, quickly scanning the information they'd recieved. "You know, you're not technically allowed to see this, you being his grandchild, and all."

For some reason, that seemed to shut him up.

"Just... just tell me what it says, Cassie." Cassie raised a brow, holding the papers just out of his reach. "I... please."

"That's better," she grinned, handing him the results while she continued to speak. "It doesn't look like there's anything wrong that we don't already know about, so you don't have to worry. I'm sure he'll be fine."

Jackson let out a sigh, feeling defeated, almost. "That's not... yeah. Yeah, I'm sure he will be."

Cassie leaned against the wall behind her, observing him for a moment. She could feel his fear.

For a moment, she wished she lacked empathy, so she didn't feel obligated to say something to help. But she knew this fear; a bit too well, if she were honest.

She felt it each time her mother had to undergo chemo again, or was rushed to the hospital after fainting in Mrs. Shepherd's kitchen.

She felt it when Denny left the hospital the first time, when he screened her calls rather than responding so she wouldn't worry, which only made her worry more.

She felt it on the way back from getting the heart for him, and in the trauma room after she'd been shot. As much as she wished it wasn't, this fear was familiar.

"You don't have to be scared," she said softly, wanting to comfort him with a hug or something, but deciding against it (they definitely weren't that close). "No matter who the patient is, Webber and Bailey are their best bet at surviving. And I speak from experience."

He nodded, taking in her unusually heartfelt words — well, unusual for him, as he personally had yet to see the McAngel side of Cassie — before he asked, "What do you mean by experience?"

"You remember that ferryboat crash downtown, like, three-ish years ago?" He nodded in recollection. "Yeah, that killed me."

Jackson practically choked on his own spit. "What?"

"Yeah," Cassie nodded, a smile on her face which Jackson thought was a bit odd for the subject matter. "I was legally dead for thirty two minutes. If it weren't for Mark screaming at everyone, they, uh, they would have given up. But, yeah, Bailey was the one to get my heartbeat back, so, I'd say she's pretty trustworthy."

Jackson wished he had something to say that wasn't entirely idiotic, but all he was able to get out was a meek, "Damn."

Cassie snorted. "Damn is correct. Oh, and there was also that one time she saved my life after I was shot by that crazy guy. But I was only dead for, like, ten seconds, so I don't think she should get the credit for that. I'm pretty sure it was pure spite that brought me back to life."

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it once again. "I... can't tell if your joking about that or not."

"First half, no, second half, sort of."

"Got it." Jackson looked at her, really looked at her, hesitating for a long moment before asking his next question. "You've been through kind of a lot, huh?"

Cassie breathed out a laugh. "You could say that. I'm just glad that all the crazy is slowly be coming to an end. Not to jinx it, or anything."

"Yeah," he nodded, eyes downcast. "T-Totally."

In unison, their pagers went off, summoning them to the OR to prep for Harper's surgery. Jackson began walking back, lab results in hand, but Cassie was distracted by a very familiar face at the end of the hallway. "Hey," she called out to Jackson, who looked a bit guilty, but Cassie naturally assumed he was just worried about his grandfather. "I'll catch up with you."

"Oh, uh, okay."

Cassie turned on her heel, jogging down the hallway until she approached Mark, who was heading in the same direction, and thus had his back turned.

"Mark!" she called out, wanting to share her excitement of being in on the Harper Avery's surgery. He didn't seem to hear her, so she called out again, "Mark, wait up!" The man in question stopped walking, but didn't turn around, at least not quite yet. He just stood there, and Cassie thought she could see his grip on the chart in his hands tightening. "Hey, you okay?"

He waited until she was by his side to fully face her, his features unusually blank as opposed to the smile that often came upon his lips when he saw her.

"Do you need something, Cassie?"

Frowning at the use of her full name, she shook her head, wondering for real this time if he was actually okay. "No, no, I just... I was wondering if you heard—"

"Harper Avery is here," Mark finished her sentence curtly, making Cassie no longer wonder if something was wrong, as the four words alone proved her suspicions. "Yeah, I know."

Without any more prompting, he turned back around, walking at an unhabitually quick pace in the opposite direction from his ex-girlfriend. Cassie was frozen in place for a few seconds, as the last time he acted that way, it was shortly after she broke his heart.

"Mark, seriously," Cassie called out, the nagging thought that he knows sitting restlessly at the back of her mind. "Are you... are you angry at me?"

Yes.

Yeah, Mark was angry. He may not have been before, but he blamed that on the shock he felt that Cassie actually slept with someone else. He knew they were broken up, but in a way, they never really were. She told him to wait, which is exactly what he'd been doing (for over six months, he'd like to emphasize). Mark was waiting for her, tail between his legs like an insecure puppy as he impatiently awaited her return home, meanwhile Cassie was out sleeping with her very beautiful (and very gay) friend the moment she got a little alcohol in her system.

He stopped walking, facing her with an entirely deadpan expression when he said with unbridled confidence—

"I was thinking about sleeping with Karev."

Cassie wasn't sure whether she should laugh or cry.

"I'm gonna need you to elaborate on that."

Mark shrugged, giving her absolutely no indication that he was joking, not even in the slightest. Not that she was surprised, as Mark had never stricken her as someone who was completely straight (she was there when he kissed a male bartender at Derek's bachelor party).

"I mean, that's what we're doing here, right?" he replied casually, too casually. "Sleeping with other people?"

Oh.

So, maybe she'd misjudged the situation.

Eyes going wide, Cassie just stared at him, her brain practically short circuiting as she feebly grasped at any attempt her mind made to come up with a response. He knows, she thought to herself with panic, feeling her heart drop down to her stomach at his words. Fuck.

"How did you—"

"I saw little Grey leaving your apartment," Mark said, his head tilting to the side. "Didn't take much to figure it out."

(Cassie floundered for a moment, stuttering out incoherent half sentences, until she finally choked out—)

"I-It's not like I cheated on you."

Okay, so, that probably wasn't the best thing she could have said, but technically, it was true.

After she spoke, Mark just looked at her, saying nothing. It was then that Cassie saw the way his eyes had gone red, as if he was fighting the urge to cry, and realized that god, she really fucked up this time.

Letting out a harsh scoff, he shook his head, his gaze moving away from her face and getting stuck on the floor. "Yeah, sure."

Once again, he turned on his heel, only this time, he didn't stop walking when Cassie called his name. That did nothing to stop her from following him down the empty hallway, of course.

"Mark," she called out helplessly, now on the verge of tears herself as she raced to follow his quick footsteps. "Please, could you just—"

"No."

"Mark, please—"

"Go away," he emphasized, speaking loud enough for her to hear him despite not turning back. "Before I say something I'll regret."

(In the moment, Cassie didn't listen, but looking back, she really wished she had.)

Cassie's footsteps sped up to match his own pace, her vision blurring as she stared at the back of his head, continuing to call out his name. "Mark, please, just talk to me! I-I know I shouldn't have... I've just been dealing with a lot but I... I-I know that's not an excuse, but please, could you—"

"God, just fuck off, Cass!" Mark snapped at her, turning around fast enough to startle her into submission. "You don't get to play the victim here! You fucked up. You ruined this, not me. You don't get to stand there and act like I'm the bad guy in this situation!"

Honestly, Cassie didn't know what to say, or how to react. She'd never seen Mark angry, at least, not like this.

"I'm sorry," she whispered with a faint shake of her head. "I really am sorry, but— but it didn't mean anything, I swear. I-I love you."

"Do you? Really? Cause you sure as hell don't act like it," Mark scoffed, almost disbelievingly. Cassie didn't respond, only stuttering out inaudible half-words with her mouth gaping open. "God, look at you, Cass! You're a freakin' mess, and it's like you don't even care! I mean, what would your mother say if she could see you now?"

Well, that shut her up.

(After a moment, even Mark knew that was way too far, but in the midst of his anger, he didn't particularly care.)

Watching as Mark walked away from her without a glance back in her direction, Cassie took in a sharp breath, tears falling from her eyes before she could stop them.

He was right.

Honestly, Cassie wasn't really sure what the hell she'd been doing lately. Her head spun, chest heaving up and down as she thought back on the last few months.

Messing with Mark's feelings, distancing herself from her friends, sleeping with someone else for no reason other than that she was drunk and lonely and Lexie was there.

Not fighting for surgeries or patients, half-assing charts, skipping out on therapy appointments... and to think, the whole time, she really managed to convince herself that she was getting better—

It all came back to the same thing, the same event, the same person that kickstarted what may as well be referred to as The Great Unraveling of Cassie Harper.

As she stood there, alone, rapid breathing and flushed cheeks, Cassie knew that the only person who had ever possessed the ability to fix her was buried six feet under in a New York cemetery, a street away from her childhood apartment building that was about to be bulldozed to the ground.

The one person she needed, the one fucking person who vowed to love her unconditionally, was gone.

Everyone was gone.

Meredith and Cristina could hardly even pretend to care anymore, Alex was busy with his own life, Derek was acting weird and stand-offish, George was dead, and nobody was there.

But Mark was right. It wasn't them, it was her. How could she blame them for treating her exactly the way she deserved, after all the fires she'd started but hadn't bothered to put out?

A heavy sob racked her body, sending her to the floor in a blind panic as she struggled to take in a full breath.

Fuck, she really needed her mom right now.

☆

Unsurprisingly, Cassie's day was not improving.

After her Mark-induced panic attack, Cassie couldn't find it in herself to attend the surgery she was handpicked for.

The choice to forgo saving the life of someone who was arguably the world's most talented surgeon was a bold one, but going into the operating room with tear stained cheeks and shaking hands was also far from ideal.

Though, that didn't mean she wasn't free to check up on him once the day was coming to an end.

Just by standing in the doorframe, Cassie could tell that Harper was on some serious painkillers. He was awake, though, which was a good sign.

"How's he doing?" she asked quietly into the nearly empty room. Jackson looked up, startled, as she made her way to Harper's bedside. Jackson stood across from her, staring at her with some mixture of worry and confusion.

"He's fine, it went... fine... uh, not to... why weren't you there?" Cassie frowned at him as he continued. "The Chief was kind of pissed when you didn't show."

Cassie just shrugged. "I seem to be making a lot of bad decisions lately."

"You got that right," a voice from between them muttered, words slurred together but still intelligible due to their proximity. Jackson seemed to pause at the response, as if he wasn't aware of his grandfather's level of consciousness until just then.

Cassie frowned at Harper, before looking back to Jackson with a raised brow. "He's on drugs, yeah?"

"A lot of them."

"Gotchya."

Harper scoffed, waving a hand in the air with loose fingers. "No, no, he's not on drugs, he's just... just an idiot. Stupid idiot kid, always screwing the help."

Despite the fact that he was high as a kite, it was clear to both Cassie and Jackson that Harper was speaking about somebody in particular, somebody other than himself.

She wasn't sure what it was about his words, but they really rubbed her the wrong way. Whether it be reffering to a human being as the help in the 21st century, or something else, she knew there was something off.

"What are you talking about, Sir?"

Jackson, seeming to realize something, stood up straight. "Hey, you know, it's getting late so you should probably—"

"I warned you about him," Harper cut Jackson off sluggishly, almost unaware of the words coming out of his mouth. "I warned you, Bonnie, and now... now look at you. Got yourself knocked up by my disappointment of a son."

(I'm sorry, what?)

"He's, uh, he's like really out of it," Jackson rushed out, moving around the bed as if to herd Cassie out the door. "Really, I-I think he needs some sleep—"

Cassie didn't move an inch.

Her brows caved in, heart racing as she stared down at the drugged out man below her. Jackson made his way to her side, placing a hand on her arm to drag her away but freezing when she ripped it from his grasp.

"Did you just.. did you just call me Bonnie?"

Almost like they could telepathically communicate, Cassie thought, but that's my mom's name, and moments later, Jackson thought, yeah, I know.

"Piece of work you are," Harper scoffed in Cassie's general direction, a sneer on his lips as he spoke. "Even got him to... to cheat on his wife. Knock up a waitress. Well, I'll tell you something, there isn't a... there isn't a chance you'll have my help getting rid of the little bastard. Reap what you sow, is... is what I say."

For just a moment, Cassie felt her heart stop beating.

No, no, this couldn't— he couldn't be—

"Cassie?" A meek voice said from behind her, urging her to turn his way. Jackson stared, and for the first time, when Cassie stared back, she knew exactly why he was.

"Yeah?"

Jackson took a deep breath, eyes darting back to their grandfather for half a second before he spoke.

"We need to talk."

author's note ━
hahahahahahaha