Chapter Text
Lexie couldn't count on both her hands how many times she'd felt like a social pariah just in the last week alone. She had friends, sure. But not so many back in Seattle, and after the last few weeks she so wished she could sit them all down and quiz them.
How close are we, I've never really known? If I called you in the middle of the night, would you answer? Were you really busy around my mom's funeral, or are we just not the kind of friends who can cry mascara tears onto each others shoulders? Is there a specific type of friend for that or is it just whoever happens to be there when it happens? Why wouldn't we be anyway... I've known you forever? Why do I often feel so much closer to the ones who have only just appeared in my life than the ones who were "there" for me when it was dark? How can I know nothing about a person and yet somehow feel more seen by them than the people whose bodies and lives I have literally merged my own with? Am I just blindly fumbling in the dark here? Do you secretly want me to shut up and die in a ditch? Is it weird that I’m even overthinking it? God it definitely is but also... do you want to know me? Could you like, tell me on a scale of one to ten how often you've thought about me in the last week? And if it's zero can you just like, shoot me instead cause I'm at a solid nine.
The lines were blurred, the feelings so far removed from her expression of them, the experience of having been entirely too much too soon throughout her entire existence weighing on her, wearing her down into externally being barely anything at all. More so for her seemingly than all those around her, because as far as she was aware, still too much. The hierarchy of it all was so confusing, and everyday ended in exhaustion, another handful of social politics negotiated, tolerance for the complexity of it all completely shot. Another part of her authenticity chipped away, moulded into something more palatable.
Something that would maybe someday get her an invite to the table.
But it's been this way forever.
It’s like this for everyone, they're just better at hiding it. That's what Mom used to say.
She was certain.
So. Why are we still in the storage closet?
She pushed the closet door open a crack, peering around the corner as a sliver of white light from the corridor illuminated the small space she’d spent half her lunch break holed away in. Upon hearing the exact laugh she had been avoiding, she ducked back inside, pressing her body against the door once more.
Meredith.
The sister she had dreamed of forever, who, like most others around her own age, had taken an immediate disliking to her.
She wasn't sure exactly why. She'd been as friendly as she possibly could through the nerves, but Meredith? Meredith had wanted nothing to do with her. That much was clear. She got it, from a logical standpoint. Her dad, their dad, hadn't been a dad at all to her. Not for a long time. And everything she'd ever heard about Ellis Grey didn't exactly paint the portrait of a present caring mother.
So then why wouldn't she want this? After a lifetime alone, a sister who wants to know her and love her? To be not only family, but friends too. Why won't she even hear me out?
That's where she kept coming up short. She knew in her soul it's what she would want, and yet here she was reminded daily of the fact that what she wants, and what other people want seem to be entirely different things altogether. Reminded of it with every dismissal and snide remark and silent glances between Cristina and her that reminded her all too much of the ones she’d received all through school from the girls who were effortless, the girls who’d had to study and cram late night for exams, but not for the intricacies of daily life.
And then there were the other interns. The resentment. The “Grey? Really? Another one?" from attendings across all departments. The constant “Well it’s not really fair, your sister obviously has pull with Shepherd. She can try get you in on all the good surgeries...” and consequential response of “Oh. Trust me. She… won't” that felt more like lead in her mouth every time it graced her tongue.
All in all, internship so far was feeling more like being back in high school. She was making friends, sure. But her confidence had been knocked, and truthfully she was doubting that anyone had ever liked her as much as she liked them.
Yeah. That's why we're in the closet.
So fittingly, in true high school lunch style, there she was in the dark and the quiet, gripping a peanut butter protein bar in her fist like it was a weapon, hoping to god Meredith wouldn't be paged to the same cases as her for the rest of their shift.
No such luck.
Derek to the best of his ability had tried to bring the two together, much to Meredith’s annoyance and Lexie’s mortification. As if it wasn't bad enough her own sister wanted nothing to do with her, she could've sworn that night in the bar her sisters boyfriend had.
So there they were, an intern, two sisters, her sisters chosen sister and the guy from the bar, grouped around a nineteen year old boy from a multi vehicle collision as she tried desperately not to look guilty for feeling like she was having a worse time than him.
“Grey, grab me a fourteen gauge needle…”
“Got it.”
Her hands had already opened the drawer and placed it safely in his grasp before she consciously even decided to move.
“I meant Meredith, but thank you, Lexie. That was… fast.”
She flushed red.
"No problem.”
So many problems.
As they left the trauma bay and headed towards the OR, Lexie let herself fall behind. She tried to stay out of the way, but remained in earshot. Then wished her earshot could be a little less... exceptional.
“Did you see that back there? How did she even know where they were? She's been here all of like, two seconds.” Cristina muttered, as Meredith stifled a laugh, looking down at her feet as Derek turned back around from where he had been striding ahead to give her a disapproving glance.
“I made sure to have the layout of the trauma supply storage memorised by the end of induction… I didn't want to be caught short.”
“Of course you did.” Meredith had replied, dripping in sarcasm, desperately trying not to take it any further.
(Just, let it go, yeah? So what. This girl had taken her childhood, now she was coming for her position as Derek's favorite intern... that's fine. She was fine about that.)
The snark wasn't ever intentional, or targeted. She was just, hurting. Loudly. And partially, Lexie could understand that.
Which made it all the worse.
I don't think I've hurt loudly about anything in my life.
The shift dragged, the loneliness of it all slowly chipping away at her as she watched everyone else break off into the groups she hadn't even been aware had been forming at the time, solidarity to get them through their shifts, silence to get her through hers. When she passed the group of residents sat on the gurneys, it washed over her in a wave. That unmistakable agony of being seen hovering near the door, but just stuck ever so slightly too far on the outside for them to ever ask if she wanted to come in.
She turned on her heel and went to find somewhere to sit by herself, away from the laughter and chatter that she so longed to be a part of, only looking back over her shoulder when she heard a familiar voice calling her name.
“Lexie!”
She kept walking. She didn't have the energy.
“Dr Grey.”
She finally stopped in her tracks.
“Yeah, George?”’
He was a little out of breath, like he had jogged at a considerable pace to catch up with her.
Huh. That's a little sweet, actually. No one has ran to catch up with me in a long time.
“You should come and sit with us.”
“Are you kidding me?”
He's... joking right? Because of how awkward that would be?
“No…? Why would that be a joke?”
She giggled. Sweet. The kind that comes out instead of a sob.
“You’d... be surprised. Anyway. I’ll pass. I think enough groups of people have gone quiet when I've approached them for one day. I don't need it from my own sister too.”
“Look… keep giving her time, okay? I've heard both sides of this story, and truthfully, the dad you grew up with is not the man she knows. It would make sense, to resent you. But it's not about you, it's about him. You just... have spent more time with her in the last few weeks than he has in twenty years, so you're the outlet for it I suppose. Makes a change, I'm usually the outlet for those guys.”
My version of our dad hasn't been all that great as of late… maybe she would know that, if we could get through one conversation without awkward silences and an unspoken insinuation that my life is so much better than hers. Maybe we could bond over that… if she ever bonds with me at all.
Maybe she would know more than me what to do with a parent who hardly speaks to you, and no matter how much you had once longed for it, when they do, you wish they hadn't.
But getting through to her felt impossible, the usual scripts and charm just didn't work on Meredith. She could play the "how to win friends and influence people" game with the best of them, but with her half sister? It was like there was an invisible divide between them. Like she was only half visible to her.
Meredith wasn't a clear cut social equation. She didn't seem to respond to anything she had tried, and Lexie couldn't work out who she needed to be in order to reach through the barrier. She just hoped she could figure it out soon. Before she was any more alone with it.
“Time…yeah. That's what everyone keeps saying. About… well, everything, actually! Thanks, George, really. But I'm good.”
She'd already said too much. But there he was in front of her, all confused and kind eyed and maybe she could just...
Bad idea. Deflect, Lexie. Shit, eye contact, look up look up look up, no, not at his lips. Then he'll think you like him like that. Hang on, do I? Like him like that? Or is he just the only person here who's been genuinely nice to me so far? Wait... okay, actually stop waiting, you've gotta say something. He's looking at you. He’s expecting you to say something. Just speak–
“Oh, just wanted to let you know, the other interns are starting to wonder why you're always hanging out with them.”
“You didn't…?”
Cool. Wrong thing to say.
“No! No, I would never. But just… be careful, okay? It's no fun being the topic of conversation around here.”
“Hey, Dad.”
The front door clicked shut behind her and she checked the lock three times before she slumped against it as she kicked off her boots, dropping her jacket in the hall, tiredness seeping into her bones with every second.
It's not like he'll notice it, anyway.
“I'm home. Work was great! Tons of lives saved. Lots of new friends. I picked up takeout on my way back from the hospital, I thought maybe you'd like dumplings? You know, comforting. Wholesome…”
Her heart sank when the silence didn't break.
It would've probably also sank if it had broken, to be fair.
She pushed open the living room, the smell of scotch hitting her immediately as she spotted a glass knocked over onto the floor.
Sighing, she grabbed two cloths from the kitchen, ringing them under the tap instinctively.
Muscle memory.
That was how she was functioning lately. Out of body, limbs autonomously pulling her through each moment until finally she could let it all slip. She didn't cry, not anymore. She'd cried enough for a lifetime the last few months, and now she was all cried out. No tears, but a silent, exhausted heavy breathing to end each day.
She wiped the spill from the floor, patting at the carpet with the rag, before wiping Thatcher's forehead with the second one, rolling him onto his side. He didn't stir. She leant down, placed her head against his chest to listen.
Lingered. Told herself she was checking for signs of life.
She wouldn't dare admit she just wanted to be close to him.
Nobody has held me in so long.
I don't even think I remember how it feels.
God. The last person I laid my head on like this was mom, at the funeral. I hope this doesn't like, curse him to be next or something.
She dragged herself away from him, pulled the boxes of dumplings from her handbag, propping them on the end table closest to his head with a bottle of water and a cold can of cheap diet cola. She grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch and placed it over him gently. She considered taking the second box upstairs, but the smell permeating throughout the room and from his pores still was nauseating, and she was so, so tired. Too tired to sit and eat, really.
I had a protein bar earlier. I won't like, die if he eats all the dumplings.
He would need them more when he woke, and all she wanted now was to shower and crawl into bed.
The water flowed over her shoulders, tension slipping as much as it could as her eyes grew heavy.
Muscle memory.
Another day alone.